THE PROGRAMME--THE FARCE.
For some days Milburd, Mrs. Orby Frimmely, Cazell, Chilvern, and the
Medfords have been working hard at a new piece.
The order of the evening is dinner for a few, then theatricals to amuse
the many, then refreshments, then a dance, and finally supper.
The Signor is in great force.
"My dear," he says to his wife, "I shall do my lit-tel step. I shall
valse."
"Mr. Regniati," returns Madame, severely, "you will do nothing of the
sort."
This rather damps his ardour; and the fact of being unable to consult
his nephew on the best means of obtaining his chance of doing his
"lit-tel steps," still further depresses him.
He is perpetually looking into the theatre-room, and as often begging
pardon, and being turned out.
The night arrives. I receive the guests as president, and I take the
lady I don't want to in to dinner.
Dinner successful.
Madame rises at the proper moment; and after an hour, and the arrival of
several carriages full, the gong summons us to the theatre.
Here Medford and myself hand round the programmes, and Miss Medford
performs on the piano.
The programmes are in her writing too. Most neatly done.
_This evening will be represented, for the first time on any
stage, an entirely new and original Musical Farce, entitled_
PENELOPE ANNE.
WRITTEN BY R. MILBURD, ESQ.
_Dramatis Personae._
DON JOSE JOHN BOXOS DE CABALLEROS Y }
CARVALHOS Y REGALIAS DI SALAMANCA, } S. CAZELL.
generally known, and without familiarity }
mentioned, as "JOHN BOX" }
COUNT CORNELIUS DE COXO, Land-Margrave }
of Somewhere, with a Palazzo in Venice, } R. MILBURD.
commonly known as "JAMES COX" }
KARL, the German Waiter T. CHILVERN.
MRS. PENELOPE ANNE KNOX MRS. ORBY FRIMMELY.
MAJOR-GENERAL BOUNCER, B.L.H. CAPTAIN BYRTON.
---------------------
_The Scene is laid in Aix-la-Chapelle, at the Hotel known as
Die Schweine und die Pfeiffer._
_Time._--There being no time like The Present, we choose the present
time.
The Orchestra under the superintendence of MISS CATHERINE MEDFORD.
Stage Manager, R. MILBURD.
Prompter, GEORGE A. MEDFORD.
[Illustration: OUR STAGE.]
PENELOPE ANNE.
The Curtain being drawn up:--
_The scene represents a public room in the small Hotel
above-mentioned, at Aix-la-Chapelle._
_Doors R.H. and L.H. Also a door C. leading on to a garden._
_Time, late in Autumn._
_On the table are various papers, books, &c._
_Enter COX._
_Everybody applauds him. The Signor says, aloud, "_Oh 'ow good! eet
is Deeck_," and looks about, proud of his penetration of his
nephew's disguise, when Madame observes, "_Mr. Regniati, if you
can't be quiet, you'd better go out_," whereupon the Signor
confines himself to smiling and nodding to different people among
the audience, intimating thereby his intense satisfaction with
everything that is taking place on the stage._
[Illustration: COUNT COXO.]
_COX is in full tourist style of the most recent fashion. Over this
he wears a top-coat and round his throat a cache-nez. In one hand he
holds a large glass of water._
_He walks up and down on entering. Drinks a little. Takes off his
coat, which he throws on the sofa. Then drinks again. Then walks.
Then removes the cache-nez, which he throws on to coat, then he
stands still and respires freely._
COX.
Phew! I'm only gradually cooling. This is the sixth day I've taken the
waters of Aix-la-Chapelle ... and I'm beginning to be so sulphurous all
over, that, if anybody was to rub against me suddenly, I should ignite
and go off with a bang. I've written to my friend Box an account of it.
I haven't seen Box for some years; but as I particularly wish him to
remain in England just now, I've commenced a correspondence with him.
I've told him that the doctor's orders here are very simple .... "Herr
Cox," says he to me--Herr's German--I must explain that to Box, because,
though Box is a good fellow, yet--he's--in fact--he's an ass. "Herr
Cox," says he, "you must drink a glass of sulphur wasser." Wasser's
German too; it didn't take long for my naturally fine intellect to
discover that it meant water. But Box doesn't know it ... for though
he's an excellent fellow, he is--in fact he's an ignoramus. "Herr Cox,"
says he to me, "you must take the sulphur wasser, and then walk about."
"What next, Herr Doctor?" says I. Note to Box. _Herr Doctor_ doesn't
mean that he's anything to do with a _Hair_-cutter. No, it's the
respectful German for Mister--must explain that to Box, for though he's
a tiptop chap, yet Box is--is--in fact, Box is a confounded idiot. "Herr
Doctor," says I, "what next?" "Well," says he "when you've taken the
sulphur water and walked about, then you must walk about and take the
sulphur water." Simple. The first glass ... ugh! I shan't forget it. I
never could have imagined, till that moment, what the taste of a summer
beverage made of curious old eggs ... a trifle over ripe ... beaten up
with a lucifer match, would be like ... now I know. But I was not to be
conquered. Glass number two was not so bad. Glass number three .... less
unpalatable than glass number two--glass number four ... um, between
number three and number four a considerable time was allowed to elapse,
as I found I had been going it too fast. But now my enfeebled health is
gradually being renovated, and they tell me that when I leave this, I
shall be "quite another man." I don't know what other man I shall be.
Yes I do. I am now a single man. I hope to leave here a double, I mean a
married man. Cox, my boy, that's what you've come here for. Cox, my boy,
that's why you want to keep, diplomatically, Box, my boy, in England,
and in ignorance of your proceedings. Herr Cox, you're a sly dog. If I
could give myself a dig in the ribs without any internal injury, I'd do
it. I came here for the rheumatism. By the way I needn't have come here
for _that_, as I'd got it pretty strongly. I caught it, without any sort
of trouble. I bathed, at Margate, in the rain. Before I could reach my
bathing machine, I was drenched through and through, I don't know where
to, but long beyond the skin. The injury was more than skin deep. No
amount of exterior scrubbings could cure me. Brandies and waters hot
internally, every day for two months, produced more than the desired
effect. I began to wander. I finished by travelling. And here I am. In
six more lessons on the sulphur spring, I shall be quite the Cure.
(_Dances and sings._) "The Cure, the Cure, the Cure, &c."
(_Great applause: from the Signor especially._)
_Enter WAITER._
(_More applause. An elderly lady with eye-glasses asks audibly if that
isn't _Captain Byrton_?_)
WAITER (_putting newspaper on table_).
Aachen Zeitung, Herr Cox.
(_More applause for his German accent._)
[Illustration: THE WAITER.]
COX.
Nein danky. I mean, no thank you. Nix--nein--don't want any.
WAITER.
Nein, Herr Cox, zis ees de baber--de daily baber at Aix. Beebels come.
[_Exit._
(_The Signor here observes aloud, "_Eet is so like ven I----_"
Madame says, sternly, "_Hush, Mr. Regniati_," and he contents
himself by finishing with a wink privately to me._)
COX.
Ja. Goot. I flatter myself I'm getting on with my German. Here's the
arrival column .. English .. I look at this every day ... because ... um
(_reading it_) ... "Mr. and Mrs. Bloater, from Yarmouth, and all the
little Bloaters ... Major Bouncer" ... goodness gracious! how
extraordinary!... Major Bouncer ... Oh it can't be the same, it must be
one of his ancestors ... or his posterity ... "Major Bouncer of the
Royal Banbury Light Horse" ... pooh! fancy Bouncer on a light horse!
Ride a cock horse
To Banbury gorse
To see Major Bouncer
Upon a light horse;
Rings on his fingers ....
Stop a minute ... Rings ... Ah! (_reads_) "accompanied by Mrs. Bouncer,
also of the Banbury Light Horse." Of course, that settles it. It is
_not_ old Bouncer. Next, "Mr. and Mrs. Winkle, from Pinner." Ah! at
last ... "Arrived at the Hotel, der Schwein und die Pfeife," that's
here--"Mrs. Penelope Anne Knox." I only heard it the other day at
Margate. There she sat. Radiant as ever. A widow for the second time.
Originally widow of William Wiggins, of Margate and Ramsgate, and now
widow of Nathaniel Knox, of the Docks, with a heap--a perfect heap--of
money. Then my old passion returned. I determined to propose to her. I
was about to do so, when on the very morning that I was going to throw
myself at her feet, I caught this infernal rheumatism, which laid me on
my back. When I recovered she was gone. "Where to?" says I. "Aix!" says
they. My spirits mounted. I took a vast amount of pains to get to Aix,
and here I am. I had heard of some property in Venice, which belonged to
the Coxes some hundreds of years ago, and so I thought I'd join pleasure
with business, and take Aix and Penelope Anne on the road. And now
_here_ she is. If Box had only known it, he'd have been after her. He's
a first-rate fellow, is Box, but abominably mercenary and mean. He'd
think nothing of proposing to Penelope Anne merely for her money. And
_I_ think nothing of a man who could do such a thing. So I've written to
Box telling him to go to the North, and I'll come and stay with him for
the shooting season. A little shooting Box in Scotland. Ha! ha! when I
_do_ go, it will be with Penelope Anne on my arm, as Mr. and Mrs. Cox.
Let me see, when the hour strikes again, it will be time for my third
tumbler--here it is--and the promenade. The Doctor says I must be
punctual in drinking the water, so I'll put myself straight, and then,
so to speak, lay myself out for the capture of Penelope Anne.
VERSES.
(_"Les Pompiers de Nanterre."_)
I'm so very glad,
Feel so very jolly,
Like a little lad
Who has come home to play.
Now about I'll gad!
Widow melancholy!
She will be delighted
When I my addresses pay.
Tzing la la la! Tzing la la la!
I'm an artful dodger!
Tzing la la la! Tzing la la la!
Hey! for Victory!
[_Exit out of room R.H._
(_Immense applause. The Signor insisting upon joining in the chorus,
which he thinks he knows. MILBURD sings it again and then makes his
exit._)
_Enter WAITER with portmanteau._
_Applause. Then enter BOX as if from a long journey; he is wrapped
up to the eyes, and above them. Questioning among audience, "_Who's
that?_" WAITER points to room L.H. BOX inclines his head. Exit
WAITER. BOX commences unbuttoning long foreign overcoat with hood.
Then takes off hood, then takes off immense wrapper. When free of
these he appears dressed in very foreign fashion._
[Illustration: DON BOXOS.]
_Re-enter WAITER._
WAITER (_puzzled_).
'Ave you zeen a Herr mit ein long code, ... long tail?
BOX.
A what? A hare with a long tail?
WAITER.
Ah! ah! (_laughing_). You are him I zee (_pointing to coat_). Dat vas
you dere. Zo ist goot.
BOX.
Oh, I see. Yes, that's me, I mean that was me, only now I've come out
like the butterfly out of a grub. (_Aside._) I forgot that this is
Germany. (_Aloud._) Ja.
WAITER.
Ach! der Herr sprech Deutsch?
(_Great applause._)
BOX.
Yah. (_Aside._) That's more like a nigger. (_Aloud._) On second
thoughts, nein.
WAITER.
Vill you your name in dese book write? (_Presenting visitors' book._)
BOX.
I will. (_Writes._) Don Jose John de Boxos Cazadores Regalias, Spain.
WAITER.
Dank you, milor!
[_Exit WAITER C._
BOX.
We know what we are, but we never know what we shall be. I am not quite
clear at present, by the way, what I am, let alone what I _shall_ be. If
anybody three months ago had said to me, "Box, my boy, you are a grandee
of Spain" ... I should have said that he was a ... in point of fact I
shouldn't have believed him. But still I am--that is, partially so--I'm
gradually becoming one. At present I'm only half a grandee. Three months
ago a friend, my legal adviser, a law stationer's senior clerk, near
Chancery Lane, said to me, "Box, my boy, you've got Spanish blood in
you." I said that I had suspected as much from my peculiar and extreme
partiality for the vegetable called a Spanish onion, and I was going to
a doctor, when my friend and legal adviser said to me, "Box, my boy, I
don't mean _that_. I mean that your great grandmother was of Spanish
extraction." I replied that I had heard that they had extracted my great
grandmother from that quarter, "I came across some papers," continued my
legal adviser, "which allude to her as Donna Isidora y Caballeros,
Carvalhos y Cazadores y Regalias, Salamanca, Spain, who married John
Box, trader, of Eliza Lane, St. Margaret's Wharf, Wapping. Date and all
correct. Go," says he--I mean my legal adviser--"go to Spain, and claim
your title, your estates, and your money, and I'll stand in with you,
and take half the profits." I was struck by this remarkably handsome
offer, and went down to Margate to cultivate a Spanish moustache and
think about it. Whenever I want to think about anything deeply, I go
down to Margate. Well, one morning as I was examining the progress of my
moustache, after shaving my chin and letting out some of the blue blood
of the Hidalgos in a most tremendous gash, judge of my astonishment,
when, walking on the beach, in among the donkeys and the Ethiopian
serenaders, I saw in widow's weeds, as majestic as ever, Penelope Anne!
(_Sings_) "I saw her for a moment, but methinks I see her now, with the
wreath of--something or other--upon her--something brow"----and then I
lost sight of her. But my Spanish blood was up. The extraction from the
sunny South boiled in my veins ... boiled over, when I learnt, on
referring to the visitors' list, that Penelope Anne was the relict of
the short-breath'd--I mean short-lived but virtuous--Knox, who had left
her his entire fortune. All my long-stifled passion returned--the
passion which the existence of a Wiggins, her first, had not quenched,
which the ephemeral life of a Knox had not extinguished, a passion which
I have felt for her before I knew that the blue ink--I mean the blue
blood, of the Hidalgos danced in my veins, and while she was only a
sweet village maiden eighteen years old, and known to all as Miss
Penelope Anne, of Park Place, Pimlico! I determined to go out and throw
myself at her feet, declare my passion, and take nothing for an answer
except "Box ... John ... I'm yours truly, Penelope!" I couldn't present
myself before her with a scrubbing-brush on my upper lip. So that
afternoon I sacrificed Mars to Venus--I mean I shaved off my moustache
for the sake of Penelope Anne. The next morning .... Toothache wasn't
the name for what I suffered. Face-ache fails to describe my agonies.
Neuralgia doesn't give the faintest idea of my tortures. The left side
of my face looked exactly as if I was holding a large dumpling in my
mouth, or a gigantic ribston-pippin which I couldn't swallow. Swallow!
Not a bit of food passed these lips, except slops, beef-tea, and tea
without the beef, for days. At the end of a week I was a shadow.
Penelope Anne had gone. Where, no one knew. Somebody said they thought
it was the Continent. I bought a map and looked out the Continent, but
it wasn't in that. I suppose it was an old edition--there have been so
many changes, and they're building everywhere--so I consulted my medical
man and my legal adviser. The first said, "Get change of air. Go
abroad!" The second said, "Seize the opportunity and go to Spain. And,"
he added, "come home by the Continent." That suited me down to the
ground. I should get my title, my lands, and my money, meeting Penelope
Anne on the Continent. As I was coming back I should be able to offer
her the hand and heart of either Don Jose John de Boxos y Cazadores y
Regalias y Caballeros y Carvalhos of Salamanca, Spain, or of plain John
Box, of Barnsbury. So here I am. I haven't got the whole title yet, as
the Spanish legal gentleman and I didn't hit it off exactly.... If I'd
only known what he was talking about, it would have shortened the
proceedings. However, as that remark applies to all legal business, I
couldn't quarrel with a foreigner on that point. Besides, if you quarrel
with a Spaniard, his southern blood can't stand it. He stabs you. He's
sorry for it afterwards, but that's his noble nature. So I've adopted
half the title, and the rest will be sent on to me if the suit is
gained. But up to this moment I've not met Penelope Anne. I've had so
much of the wines of Spain, that my medical man wrote and advised me to
try the waters of Germany. So here I am. (_Takes up paper_). What's
this? _Comic Journal_, um. "We are sorry to announce the death of ..."
um, um. (_reads_) "_Spain on the eve of a crisis._" ... There were three
while I was there. Nobody took any notice of them. What's this? "Hotel
der Schwein and die Pfeife"--that's here--"Mrs. Penelope Anne Knox." ....
Don Jose de Boxos, she's yours. You've only got to propose, and she's
yours. Tell her you're a Spanish grandee, and offer her a position as
Spanish grand_she_. Don Boxos, you've only got to give yourself a brush
up, and she's yours. (_Taking up COX'S glass of water which he has left
on table_) I wish myself every possible success! To my future happiness!
(_drinks._) Ugh! (_suddenly makes fearfully wry faces. The clock
strikes. Re-enter COX, R.H._)
COX.
Punctual to the moment. (_Seeing glass empty_) Confound it, dash
it--who's taken my sulphur wasser? I say who (_sees BOX who is slowly
recovering_)--Have you--(_starts_) Can I believe my eyes?
BOX.
I don't know.
COX.
It _must_ be--.
BOX.
If it _must_ be, then in that case (_opens his eyes and recognises
COX_). Ah!
COX.
Box!
BOX.
Cox!
[_They are about to rush into each other's arms, when they
think better of it, and shake hands rather coolly._
BOX.
How d'ye do?
COX.
How are you?
BOX.
Very well, sir.
COX.
Very well, sir! (_Aside_) I don't like the look of this.
BOX (_aside_).
I don't like the taste of _that_.
COX (_aside_).
What's Box here for?
BOX (_aside_).
Has Cox been trying to poison himself--and poisoned me?
COX (_aside_).
He mustn't stay here.
BOX (_aside_).
Cox must go. I don't think I feel as well as I did.
COX.
Ahem!
BOX.
Ahem!
COX.
I beg your pardon, you were going to say--
BOX.
On the contrary, I interrupted you--
COX.
No, you speak first. _Seniores priores._
BOX.
In that case you have the preference. Why, I'm quite a chicken by the
side of you.
COX.
Pooh, sir.
BOX.
Well, if you don't like "chicken" I'll say gosling.
COX.
Don't be absurd, sir. At what age were you born?
BOX.
What's that to you? I'm six years younger than you, whatever you are.
COX.
So am I. So you speak first.
BOX.
This is absurd. I'm only a visitor. You're a resident.
COX.
No I'm not. I'm only _ong parsong_.
BOX.
Ong Parsong? Why, you don't mean to say you've become a clergyman?
Archbishop Cox, I congratulate you.
(_Our two curates, who are among the audience, see the joke and laugh
sweetly._)
COX.
Don't be a fool. Are you stopping here?
BOX.
Well, that depends. Are _you_?
COX.
Well--(_shrugging his shoulders and stretching out his hands_).
BOX.
Ah! (_imitates action_) That's exactly my case.
COX.
It's time for me to go out and take the waters. You've taken mine for
me.
BOX.
If you don't feel any better after it than I do--What's the effect of
the waters?
COX (_aside_).
I'll frighten him. (_Aloud_) If you're unaccustomed to them--poisonous.
BOX.
Good gracious! The first draught then is--
COX.
Fatal. Deadly.
BOX.
Then you don't have much chance of getting accustomed to it. You look
very well.
COX.
Yes. I could have taken that glass with impunity. It was my eighteenth
tumbler.
BOX.
Then I'm safe. I began with the eighteenth. Aha! I shall smoke a cigar
and read the paper.
COX (_aside_).
The paper!
BOX.
Don't stop for me. (_Aside_) I wonder if he's seen the news.
COX (_aside_).
He mustn't know she's here. He's got it. (_Seeing BOX reading the
paper._) Would you allow me to look at the paper?
BOX.
There's nothing in it.
COX (_coming up to table and putting his hand suddenly down on it_).
Sir!
BOX (_taking no notice_).
Come in.
COX.
No, sir, I shall not come in. I'm going to come out, sir, and come out
pretty strongly too. (_Suddenly pathetic_) Box, my boy--
BOX (_the same_).
Cox, my boy. (_Turns and allows the smoke of his pipe to come under
COX'S nose just as COX is attempting to take the paper._)
COX (_sneezing_).
Excuse my emotion (_sneezes_).
BOX.
It does honour to your head and heart--specially to your head. (_Offers
his pocket-handkerchief._)
COX.
Thank you. I can't forget that we were once brothers.
BOX.
We were.
COX.
We had no secrets from each other. At least you had none from me, had
you?
BOX.
No, not unless you had any from me.
COX.
Then I will confide in you. I don't mind telling you--
BOX.
I have no objection to inform you--
COX.
That I am--
BOX.
So am I--
COX.
Here--
BOX.
Exactly my case--
COX.
To marry--
BOX.
Yes, to espouse--
COX.
Eh?
BOX.
It's the same thing.
COX.
Oh. To marry Penelope Anne.
BOX.
Penelope Anne! So am I!
COX.
You!
BOX.
I.
COX.
Then, Box, I'm sorry for you. You've no chance. Go.
BOX.
On the contrary, Cox, as there can't be the smallest possibility of your
being accepted, it's for you to retire. _Allez._
COX.
I shan't allez.
BOX.
No more shall I.
COX.
Mr. Box, since we last met, circumstances have changed. You no longer
speak to a gentleman--
BOX.
You needn't explain _that_--
COX.
I say, to a gentleman connected with the Hatting interest. _No_, my
family solicitor discovered that my great grandfather had been a
Venetian Count, or a Margrave, or a Hargrave, or a something of that
sort, and that therefore my proper title was Count Cox The Landgrave.
BOX.
The _Landgrave_--you might as well be a tombstone at once.
COX.
I am serious. I have come over to mix pleasure with business, and to
offer to Penelope Anne the hand of The Landgrave, or of the Venetian
Count. So yield to the aristocracy; and, Printer, withdraw.
BOX.
Excuse me, Cox, but since our parting I have discovered that in my veins
flows the blue blood of the Hidal_gos_--
COX.
How many "goes"?
BOX.
Don't be profane--of the Hidalgos of Spain. I have already assumed half
the title. The rest will be sent on to me in a few days, and I am here
to offer to Penelope Anne the hand and coronet of Don Jose John de Boxos
y Caballeros y Regalias de Salamanca. _Fuego_, as we say in Spain,
_Fuego_.
COX.
Never, while _I_ live, shall _you_ marry Penelope Anne.
BOX.
Never, while I marry Penelope Anne, shall you live. I've Spanish blood
in my veins. Pistols!
COX.
Swords!
BOX.
When?
COX.
Now. (_Clock strikes_). That's the second glass of water you have made
me lose. You are ruining my health.
BOX.
Then let me shoot you at once. By the way, I haven't got a pistol.
COX.
Paltry evasion! There's a shooting gallery here where they let 'em out
by the hour.
BOX.
How many hours shall we take 'em for?
COX.
Well--we've got to pay in advance.
BOX.
Well, you advance the money and I'll pay.
COX.
No. We'll borrow it from the waiter.
BOX.
Yes, and leave it to be paid by our executors out of the estate. Come.
BOTH.
DUETT.
("_Suoni la tromba._")
Off to the tented field!
Pistols! revolvers they shall be!
Sooner than ever yield
I'll fight for death or victore_e_!
BOX (_aside_).
Yes! he must be my target.
Must the unhappy Cox.
COX (_aside_).
What will they say at Margate
When I have shot poor Box.
BOTH.
Ah!
["Off to the tented," &c. _They repeat the duett and are
about to exit, when they stop at the door and return._
BOX.
Hem! I say, sir.
COX.
Well, sir?
BOX.
I intend to exterminate you.
COX.
I mean to blow you to atoms.
BOX.
But if we _don't_ exterminate each other it will be rather awkward.
COX.
Yes. I shouldn't like to be wounded. It hurts.
BOX.
Besides, if we both came off without our noses, or with only two eyes
between us, we should neither be able to marry Penelope Anne.
COX.
True. I have it.
BOX.
So have I.
COX.
The Lady shall decide.
BOX.
Just exactly what I was going to propose.
[_A female voice heard without, singing a joedel._
[* _This is MRS. FRIMMELY. She sings a Tyrolienne by
Offenbach, and in French. Every one delighted.
Being encored, she appears at the door, curtseys,
retires and sings again, "without."_]
COX.
'Tis she! What superb notes!
BOX.
It's a rich voice.
COX.
She's a rich widow.
BOTH.
She comes.
[_PENELOPE ANNE appears C. in ultra Parisian
watering-place toilette. They bring her
down between them, each taking a hand._
BOTH.
Penelope Anne!
[_Both kneel R. and L.C._
[Illustration: PENELOPE ANNE.]
PENELOPE.
Mr. James Cox. Ah! (_starts_).
BOX.
You've frightened her. You're so ugly.
PENELOPE.
Mr. John Box. Oh! (_faints, and falls into a chair placed C._)
COX.
You've killed her. You Gorilla.
BOX.
Gorilla--(_they are about to fight, when she screams again_). What shall
we do?
COX (_excitedly_).
Cold key--Senna--no, I mean Salts.
BOX (_more excitedly_).
Pooh! Cold water .... with something in it.
COX.
Where's the sulphur water--throw it--
PENELOPE (_shrieking_).
Ah! (_rising_). How dare you! (_calls_). Husband!
BOX.
She said Husband. Dearest--
[_PENELOPE slaps his face._
COX.
She means _me_. I knew it. Angel--
[_PENELOPE repeats the slap on HIS face._
BOX.
You _did_ say "Husband?" Surely you can't be blind to the fascination of
Don Boxos de Regalias Salamanca--
COX.
When you said "Husband" you must have been dreaming of Count Cornelius
Cox, Landgrave.
PENELOPE.
Gentlemen. Mr. Cox ... Mr. Box--if the truth must be told--
BOX.
It will be painful for Cox--but tell it, brave woman, tell it.
COX.
It will be harrowing for Box--but out with it, courageous Penelope, out
with it.
PENELOPE.
Well--when--I said--"Husband"--I meant ...
COX.
Me--
PENELOPE.
No--
BOX.
Ha! ha! hooray! Me--
PENELOPE.
No ....
BOTH.
Then whom _did_ you mean?
PENELOPE.
When I said "Husband" I meant--
_MAJOR BOUNCER, suddenly entering._
BOUNCER.
Me. (_Sings in military style_) "Rataplan! Rataplan!"
[Illustration: MAJOR-GEN. BOUNCER.]
(_Immense applause._ "Why _that's_ Captain Byrton," _exclaims the
elderly lady, who, up to that moment, has been under the impression
that he was playing the waiter._)
BOTH.
Him! You! Bouncer!
BOUNCER.
Major Bouncer, of the Banbury Light Horse, at your service. We were
married this morning.
COX.
Stop! Virtuous but misguided Penelope. Bouncer is married already!
ALL.
Ah!
COX.
Behold! and tremble! Read it, Box (_giving newspaper_).
BOX (_reads_).
At the hotel So-and-so--um--Major and Mrs. Bouncer.
[_PENELOPE and BOUNCER laugh._
COX.
They laugh! Horrible depravity.
BOUNCER.
Nonsense! Mrs. Bouncer mentioned there--
BOX.
Is not the Mrs. Bouncer we see here.
BOUNCER.
True. The Mrs. Bouncer _here_ is Mrs. Penelope Bouncer, _My_ Mrs.
Bouncer; but the Mrs. Bouncer there is your old landlady, your Mrs.
Bouncer, _now_, the Dowager Lady Bouncer.
BOX AND COX.
Good gracious!
BOX.
Has she any money?
COX.
Is she well off?
BOUNCER.
No. I support her entirely.
BOX.
Oh! Then bless you, Bouncer. Persevere. Go on supporting her.
COX.
I congratulate you, Bouncer. You may keep your Dowager to yourself.
PENELOPE.
And if you like to join us at the wedding-breakfast--
BOUNCER.
We shall be delighted--
PENELOPE.
Now, as always--
BOUNCER.
To see--
PENELOPE.
Two old friends.
BOUNCER.
Come, join hands. I'm an old soldier.
BOX.
You are.
BOUNCER.
I've stolen a march upon you.
COX.
You have.
BOUNCER.
But forgive and forget.
BOX.
I'll forget you with pleasure, but forgive--oh! Penelope Anne!
COX.
Well, I'll forgive you; but don't do it again.
BOUNCER.
I promise.
PENELOPE.
So do I.
BOX.
Do you? Then there's my hand, and when I've got my Castle in Spain you
shall come and stop with me. (_Aside_) I'll have old Bouncer up before
the Inquisition.
COX.
And when I've got my Palazzo di Coxo at Venice, you shall always find a
knife and fork at your service. (_Aside_) I'll take him out for a walk
by a canal and upset him.
[_Enter WAITER with tray, which he puts down. Everything
is placed ready for dejeuner a la fourchette._
WAITER.
Das Fruehstuck ist fertische.
(_Applause._)
ALL.
Eh?
WAITER.
Break-a-fast.
[_They sit._
BOX.
Permit me--
COX.
And me--
BOX.
To propose--
COX.
The health--
BOTH.
Of the Happy Pair. Major and Mrs. Bouncer. Hip! hip! hip! Hurrah!
BOX (_singing_).
It's a way we have in the army.
[_They all join in chorus._
SOLOS AND CHORUS.
("_Ha, ha!_" "_Les Dames de la Halle._")
BOX.
I drink the health of Madame Bouncer,
And of the Major Bouncer, too!
SOPRANO ET TENOR.
Too too too too too too too!
BASSI.
Too too too too too too too!
COX.
Of his foes he is a trouncer,
Equal to any Horse Guard Blue.
ALL.
Blue, &c. (_as before_).
BOX.
All our jealousy we smother
From this happy bridal day.
COX.
We'll embrace him like a brother
BOX.
And a sister--if I may!
PENELOPE ANNE.
Ah!
BOX AND COX (_together_).
Viva, Viva Rataplan!
Oh! Rataplan Penelope Anne,
Oh! Rataplan Penelope-elope
Anne, Anne, Anne!
CHORUS (_including the WAITER, all at table standing up, glasses in hand
convivially_).
Viva, viva Rataplan!
Oh! Rataplan Penelope Anne!
Oh! Rataplan Penelope-elope
Anne, Anne, Anne!
Tableau.--_BOUNCER on chair, with dish-cover and carving-knife.
WAITER at side, waving napkin. PENELOPE between COX and BOX in
centre._
_Curtain descends._
[Illustration: "AUTHOR! AUTHOR!"]