First Performed at the Royal Lyceum Theatre,on Wednesday, December 6th, 1854.
Thank you, no, we are going on to Bognor.
To Bognor, Sir ?—take any refreshment before the omnibus starts, Sir ?—first rate sirloin of beef just in cut, Sir—splendid cold ham, Sir—be-au-tiful pigeon pie, Sir.
Have you got any coffee ?
Coffee, Sir ?—plenty, magnificent coffee, Sir!
But genuine, good coffee, I mean ?
Couldn't be better, Sir, we don't put anything in it, I assure you, Sir.
Then get us two cups of coffee, very hot.
—But tell me, Clara, who on earth is this fellow who has fastened himself upon us, all the way from London ?—and where did you make his acquaintance ?
The deuce you didn't! I made sure you must have met him before somewhere.
I havn't the slightest idea who he is, and his attentions were excessively disagreeable to me, I assure you.
And to me too—he was so confoundly obsequious. I can't bear such excessively polite people.
I think he saw that we didn't like it, and persevered on purpose to annoy us.
I think so too. I believe he was making game of us all the while, and if I wasn't a peaceable man, I should have exploded—I am sure I should.
How was it possible to be angry—he was always laughing.
Very true; besides, one can't very well quarrel with a man because he's too attentive to you.
Of course not. But he's perfectly insufferable.
Just now, too, when I was going to call a porter for our luggage he wouldn't let me, but insisted upon taking charge of it himself, and I didn't much like it, because you see, there are five packages, and there's a good bit of money in my portmanteau.
Good gracious, papa, if he should be a thief ?
Oh dear! I never thought of that. You've put me in a cold shiver, and I'll run and look
after him this very minute.
A porter ! nonsense, he would have turned everything topsy-turvy, and it would have cost you sixpence at the very least.
Rot the sixpence, there are some moments when I would rather pay.
Oh, very well! if you would rather have it that way, I can easily take them back again, and
you can send for them when you like.
No—confound the fellow!—now they're here let them alone, can't you ?
By the coach ? What, you are not going any farther by rail ?
No !—unless you've any objection.
I'm very sorry for it—it isn't often that one meets with fellow travellers like you.
Nor like you, Sir—
Thank you. By the bye, waiter, book me two places in the Bognor coach.
Bognor omnibus, Sir ?—very good, Sir—what name, Sir ?
Biffin.
No, Sir, from Essex. Why do you ask?
Oh, nothing! I only fancied—Norfolk biffins, you know.
Well, Sir, and what then ?
Oh, nothing!
Omnibus start, Sir? in half-an-hour, Sir—plenty of time for coffee, Sir—time for lunch, if you like, Sir— be-au-tiful pigeon pie, Sir.
There, that will do. Take those packages into the house.
Those packages, Sir? Very good, Sir?
Half-an-hour, then we shall just have time to call on the agent at Bognor, with whom I have arranged for the purchase of the farm adjoining the grounds of my country house.
A country house and a farm!—pleasure and profit— charming combination.
(L.C.) Then it's about the farm that we are going to Bognor, is it papa ?
Of course not. Didn't I tell you ! no, I recollect I didn't; but its there that you are to meet your intended
None in the world—provided she get's a husband worthy of her.
How I wish I wasn't a peaceable man.
How curious I am to see, what sort of a person he is ! But why should he go to Bognor instead of going to London ?
Ah ! why indeed!
From New York! you don't mean to say you're going to give your daughter to a brother Jonathan.
Perhaps that doesn't please you.
Of course it doesn't, it's quite enough for them to steal our books, without robbing us of
our pretty girls into
When do you think he'll arrive ?
Perhaps to-morrow. He may have arrived already; at any rate he'll be here soon—I shall be so glad to see him, the son of my old friend, Popplewig.
Popplewig ? ha, ha, ha! Popplewig!
It's a highly honorable name, Sir.
That's lucky, for it isn't a pretty one, that's certain.
His father was my correspondent when I was in business.
I see: and he forwards his son, warranted, as per bill of lading.
Shall I fetch it for you ?
No, Sir! Come, Clara.
Oh, papa! my foot hurts me so dreadfully !
Allow me to support you.
You sha'n't do anything of the sort, Sir—nobody has a right to support a young lady but her papa.
Support her ? Ha! I understand—not so bad. I see you're a wit, Mr. Biffin,
No, I tell you—no, no, no—a thousand times, no!
Come along, Clara,
Ha, ha, ha! he's superb, upon my soul—he's worthy of a glass case in the Crystal Palace—that
he is! I've been teazing him in this way all the way from London —seventy miles—and by a slow
train, too. Two hours and a half of incessant aggravation. I wonder what he thinks of it all ?
I dare say, now, he says to himself, " Who the devil is this fellow who has fastened himself
upon us with such horrible pertinacity ?—he must be in love with my daughter, that's very
certain." Me in love when I've
—The devil! I've missed the train ! Never mind, I can go by the next—I never worry myself, never.
Excuse me, Sir, but can you tell me whether the Portsmouth train has arrived ?
I believe it isn't due till a quarter to three, and it's only just half-past two, so if you feel disposed to lunch—
You're very obliging, Sir, you will think me rude if I don't accept your very kind offer, but I'd rather not take anything.
I'm not hungry, and I'm very glad of it. I shall be able to get away all the sooner.
You're in a hurry to reach London, Sir.
Oh dear no, quite the contrary ; but the fact is there's probably somebody in that Portsmouth train—
Whom you are anxious to meet ?
No, quite the contrary. I'd give my little finger to avoid meeting her.
Ah, it's a lady.
How do you know that ?
You said, to avoid meeting
So I did—I said her—it was very indiscreet, very.
Your wife I presume ?
Oh dear no ! quite the contrary.
Ah!
It's the widow of a Mexican General.
You don't say so ?
Who in consequence of family difficulties was obliged to open a confectioner's shop in Philadelphia.
Ah ! I see, you made her acquaintance in eating a Bath bun, and breathed your passionate vows over a glass of ice cream. What melting moments!
No, it was on the ocean—we came home in the same packet.
Indeed!
Alas ! yes we used to walk the deck together in the moonlight evenings, whilst our vessel ploughed the waves.
And she harrowed your heart. How pastoral!
Take my advice, my dear Sir, never make acquaintance with a woman on board ship.
Nag; I promise you I won't.
If it's only between London and Gravesend, it doesn't much matter—but when it's from New York to Southampton—
What! you came from New York!
Three weeks at sea, with nothing to look at but the sky, the ocean, and a woman.
It's very dangerous, one can't be always looking at the sky, especially if it rains—and if the woman's pretty.
But a woman always is pretty at sea! If she doesn't seem so the first day, you're sure to think her so the second, and as the hours hang heavy, one must kill time somehow.
So one kills it by making love.
Alas, yes ! and I confess I adored Sophonisba : that's the name of the Mexican.
And a very pretty name too,
But I only meant to adore her till I got to England.
Of course, you looked upon your love as booked from New York to Southampton, like yourselves.
Precisely—but the moment we landed, Sophonisba, fastened herself on to me.
Like a hook in a eye—to be sure, that's always the way.
I was obliged to temporize, I accompanied her to the hotel—ordered supper, and told her I'd
be back in a minute. I jumped into the first train, went to Southampton then to Basingstoke by
the South Western, from Basingstoke to Reading by the Great Western, from Reading to Reigate
by the South Eastern, and from Reigate to Bognor by the London and South Coast, There's a
journey for
But why did you come here at all? She must pass through Bognor on her way to London. It's very imprudent.
I was obliged to come here—I'm going to be married.
You don't say so.
And my intended lives close by.
But I'm standing here, and the Portsmouth train will arrive before I'm off. Might I venture to ask you to render me a service, Sir?
I shall be enchanted.
It's only to book a place for me in the omnibus that starts from this inn.
The Bognor omnibus ?
Precisely.
Between ourselves my name is Peregrine Popplewig.
But you had better book it in your own name— then she won't be able to find any clue to me.
To be sure, it's a capital idea,
Coming, Sir, coming. Take any refreshment, Sir ? Be-au-ti-ful pigeon pie, Sir.
No, book a place in the Bognor omnibus.
Bognor omnibus, Sir, very good, Sir—what name, Sir ?
Peregrine Popplewig.
All right, Sir.
I'm very sorry, I did'nt mean to say it.
When does the omnibus start.
Omnibus start, Sir—immediately, Sir—they're putting the horses to, Sir.
That's right, and the Portsmouth train ?
There it is, Sir—just come in, Sir.
The devil!
After all I'm a fool to frighten myself. I dare say she's in London by this time.
Heavens, that's her voice !
What, Sophonisba ?
My dear Sir, I implore you, tell her you haven't seen me. No, what a fool I am !—don't tell her anything at all. Where shall I hide myself?
Here in the inn—under the bed.
Nonsense—she'd be sure to find me.
Here then in this old water-butt—there's no water in it—she'll never find you there.
I've got you now, my friend; only see if I don't teaze you a bit, that's all.
Don't go in there, my dear Madam—don't go in there.
Sir!
It isn't the slightest use—you won't find anything there I assure you.
What, not even a sandwich ?
A sandwich ? nonsense ! At your age, and with your charms, you must be looking for something much better than sandwiches.
What do you take me for, young man ?
A lady who is in search of somebody, that's all. Perhaps you'll try and convince me that you are not looking for a certain Peregrine Popplewig.
What, you know Peregrine?
Know him ? of course I do. I haven't known him long, it's true, but I know him.
But don't imagine that I'm going to tell you where he is ! Betray my friend ? never !—especially when he's close by.
You have seen him—he's here—I know he's here.
Oh ! if you know he's here, of course that alters the case entirely.
But don't fancy you will learn anything from me, not a word.
I'll ransack every corner of the inn !
But I want my Peregrine—I must have my Peregrine! I'm sure he is sighing for me at this very moment.
He sighing for you ! Why, next to the cholera, there's nothing on earth that he's more
anxious to avoid : and he's quite right, too. If I were in his place I should have run away as
he did—I should conceal myself as—
Now if you can find him yourself, of course I can't help it; but don't expect to gain any clue from me. Betray my friend ? never!
You're a monster, Popplewig ! Think of your infamous conduct—is that the way to treat a virtuous woman?
Stick to facts, Sophonisba—don't be rhapsodical.
I ought to spurn you with contempt, unfeeling man.
You ought—there, spurn me—adieu, Sophonisba!
No, I deserve to be spurned with contempt! spurn me with contempt.
Hold your tongue, you're a monster, that you are ! there isn't an adjective in the dictionary strong enough to characterise your conduct. The idea of leaving me in the hotel at Portsmouth all night encompassed by all the trenches which gallantry digs around the feet of beauty. Oh ! you vile man !
I couldn't help it, Sophonisba, an imperious necessity tore me from your side.
Necessity—fiddlesticks.
Then you don't believe me—but I assure you it was. I have an uncle at Reading—a very wealthy uncle— he's very old, and he wanted to give me his blessing—of course I couldn't take you with me—it wouldn't have been proper.
Why didn't you tell me ?
Because you wouldn't have believed me ; you're so horribly incredulous, so I thought it best to start alone by the night train. I arrived at my uncle's at daybreak, woke him with a tender embrace.
Yes, but you did'nt wake me with a tender embrace. It is all an abominable concatenation of incredibilities.
Nothing of the sort; all stern realities, I assure you, my uncle, received his blessing, and set off at once for Bognor to meet you.
To meet me?
Of course, what other reason had I for coming here ?
How do I know ?
And you'll see how well I calculated every thing. I said to myself she'll start for Portsmouth by the two o'clock train—you did start by the two o'clock train, didn't you ?
Of course I did; but how did you know I should ?
Because I was sure you wouldn't be in time for an earlier one.
Well, go on.
Then, I said to myself, the two o'clock train stops ten minutes at Bognor for refreshments, she'll be sure to get out.
How did you know I should get out ?
Because if you had'nt it would have been the first time in your life that you had missed a chance of taking refreshments, that's all.
There, I suppose you grudge me my nourishment now, don't you ?
On the contrary, I was only waiting for you to lunch with me.
To lunch with you ?
Of course, if you don't believe me ask my friend, he knows all about it.
What, the mysterious individual who was here just now ? What's his name ?
His name ?
Of course you can tell me his name ?
Tell you his name—walker.
Walker!—it isn't a very aristocratic one, but never mind.
Really ? and you'll never leave me ?
Oh yes, once.
Eh ?
When I die; but I shall love you as much then as I do now.
Well, I suppose I must believe you ; but mind, no more sick uncles, Lothario.
What, you're not convinced ? Never mind, suppose we lunch ?
With all my heart, for I'm as hungry as——
Say as usual—you can't find a stronger expression.
Coming, Sir. Take any refreshment, Sir?— be-au-tiful pigeon pie, Sir.
Bother your pigeon pie! Serve, us a banquet— everything you've got in the house that's good, knives and forks for two, lunch for six, and sherry by the hogshead.
Very good, Sir—like a private room, Sir ?— cloth's laid in No. 4, Sir ?
We'll have No. 4, but look sharp about it.
All right, Sir—ready in half a minute, Sir.
Is that your portmanteau ?
Yes ; why do you ask ?
Oh, nothing ! I'll take it up stairs with me.
Sophonisba, I couldn't think of allowing you to undertake such a menial task.
Don't teaze me—I've my reasons.
Oh good gracious! I've left my luggage in the train!
Give me your ticket, quick! I'll run and fetch it for you.
Luncheon's ready, Sir.
Very good.
—Catch me running after her luggage! She's got my portmanteau, and she may wear my clothes,
socks, nightcap, everything if she likes. I'm off for Bognor, without waiting for the
omnibus,
Ouf! you've doubled me up!
Zounds! you man, can't you look where you're running to ? You've driven every bit of breath out of my body!
What, you're going to Bognor?—but I'm going there myself. How droll! We'll go together.
With all my heart. Come along.
We'll go by the omnibus.
I can't wait for the omnibus ; I'm going
What, on foot, through all the ruts and puddles ? We should be smothered with dust.
You won't come, then ? Good morning,
Stop a minute.
You've changed your mind ?
Will you have the kindness to—you'll be surprised at the request, I dare say, but since you're going to Bognor—
Come to the point—I'm in a hurry.
Will you have the kindness to change coats with me ?
Is that what you called me back for ?
You don't know how much it would oblige me You see, I was strolling along at my ease with my gun, having a pop at the partridges now and then in an old coat, as you perceive; but I've got a better one at home.
Come to the point, I tell you.
Just at the corner of a field I saw something rise, I was going to fire, and what do you think it was—a gamekeeper ! wasn't it droll ?
If you don't come to the point
Where's your certificate, said he? Never had such a thing in my life—he ran after me—I threw my gun between his legs and tripped him up, he got up again, and kept running after me, and crying—stop the drab coat! Stop the drab coat! This confounded paletot will betray me, I know it will—I shall be sent to prison for poaching and, I haven't the time to spare.
And you want me to take your place ? Upon my word I'm very much obliged to you.
But I'll give it you back when we get to Bognor.
Go to the devil.
He doesn't like the idea. He isn't of an obliging disposition that's clear, and it's a great
pity, for I believe that confounded gamekeeper didn't loose sight of me. But I must get rid of
this coat at any rate;
Now, then, passengers for Bognor.
The omnibus going to start ?
Directly, Sir.
That's all right—keep a place for me.
There isn't a place left, Sir; but we've a beautiful pigeon pie.
Not a place left!—but I
Very sorry, Sir, but I can't help it.
You've got a conveyance of some kind, of course.
Not even a wheelbarrow; but the miller, over the way, has got a donkey, I dare say he'll lend it to you, Sir,
A donkey,
Oh ! but a first-rate doukey, Sir—there's many a horse that isn't worth the half of him, Sir.
A pretty figure I shall cut upon a donkey; and I shall wear holes in my trowsers too—where does he live ?
The donkey, Sir ? He's mostly on the common when he's not at work, Sir.
No, the miller.
Just over the way, Sir—it isn't two steps, Sir.
A donkey; but after all, when one's in a hurry.
I say, Peter, you've got a chap here with a drab coat, haven't you ?
No, Toby, I haven't seen anything of the sort.
You're trying to humbug me, Peter ; I never lost sight of him, and I saw him get over that gate.
Very well, Toby, you may search the house from
Confound the fellow, a nice dance he has led me, but I've got him now, that's sure.
I'm very sorry—I thought you said "Go ahead! go ahead ! " and of course I went on at full speed.
Omnibus is ready, Sir—only waiting for you, Sir.
It's the agent that's detained us. Come, Clara, let us look after our five packages.
I'll help you.
No, Sir, you sha'n't help me—leave me alone, can't you ? you annoy me !
Oh, papa!
I shall explode, I know I shall! Come along, Clara; if he says another word he'll make me forget that I'm a peaceable man !
Ha, ha, ha! the old boy has broken out at last! That's just what I wanted ; now there's no
more fun to be got out of him—the Biffin is roasted to a turn, so I'll be off to Stonehenge.
Where the deuce did I leave my paletot ? Ah ! I recollect—I put it on this bench.
It's a horrid bore to be obliged to lunch with one's self.
If I can only manage to get a place in the coach.
Eh ? oh, it's you, is it ?
I beg your pardon, Mr. Walker.
You would oblige me so much if you'd tell Peregrine that I'm waiting for him.
You're waiting for him ?
I've been waiting for him for the last half-hour, and so has the luncheon.
You don't say so! and you really expect him ?
Expect him, of course I do.
Charming simplicity!
What?
It's positively refreshing to meet with such unsuspecting innocence in this wicked world.
Unsuspecting innocence ! young man, you've put me in a cold shiver.
Shiver as much as you like, only don't expect him.
You don't mean to say he's bolted.
I don't know whether he has bolted in the strict sense of the word, but I'm quite certain that he has run away.
The monster! but you know where he is—tell me where he is.
Betray my friend—never!
If you don't tell me where he is, I'll jump out of window and smash myself into little pieces before your very eyes !
Don't be rash, you might hurt yourself. I could only make out that he was going to Bognor,
Bognor ? where's that ?
A village a few miles off—where he expects to meet his intended.
His what ?
His intended. Didn't you know he was going to be married ?
Married.
To be sure—to Miss Biffin.
Heavens! support me !
With pleasure; but don't tumble out of window.
I won't—I'm coming down stairs.
That's right—I'll support you as soon as you get down.
Won't there be a glorious row by and by !
Now then, Coachman, look sharp, here's the luggage.
Yes, that's right, those are my five packages.
Stop a minute, Coachman, I'm going too.
Very sorry, Sir, but there's no room. There's
Peregrine Popplewig.
Of course I did.
So, you're my son-in-law, that is to be, are you ? Upon my word I can't say that I'm delighted.
Never mind, that's quite immaterial.
For ever since we started from London this morning you've been plagueing me so horribly.
Now, then, gentlemen, if you please—we're behind time already.
Let's be off—I'll explain it all to you when we get to Bognor.
Stop, Coachman—a place for me—I must have a place.
There isn't one left, Ma'am, unless you like to ride on top of the bus.
That'll do—anything'll do—I'd go to Bognor on on my head if that was all.
Walker?
Let's be off, I'll explain it all to you when we get to Bognor.
It's very odd, I can't find him anywhere.
is it the chap in the drab coat that you're looking for, Toby ?
Of course it is.
He's just started by the Bognor bus.
He's started ?—the vagabond ; but I'll catch him yet. Here—stop, stop!
No signs of them yet ! Never mind, everything is prepared for their reception—thanks to my activity. The notion of my brother's wanting to marry Clara to an American ! But she's not married to him yet, and what's more I don't intend she ever shall be. I've a pet little plan of my own. Simon must have received my letter before this, and if he only follows my instructions — Poor little Simon! I promised his aunt, my dear old schoolmistress, to watch over her orphan nephew when she was gone, and I've kept my word; but I dare not do much for him openly—the world is so malicious ! heaven knows what people might say if I did. However, if I can only secure him Clara's fortune, he'll be comfortably settled for life: he'll make her an excellent husband, too, I'm sure he will, for he's a good- hearted little fellow, though he isn't the brightest genius in the world. Here they are at last, and a stranger with them--I wonder who it can be ?
That's a pity! And how is my prize melon getting on ?
It's no wonder I'm ill—the house wasn't half aired when I got here, and I've caught such a shocking cold!
Is it nearly ripe ?
What, my cold ?
No ; my melon !
Brother, how unfeeling! Where is Clara?
She'll be here directly, she's coming with Peregrine.
Peregrine ? and pray who is Peregrine ?
Why, my son-in-law, to be sure.
Your son-in-law ?
That is to be. He's a queer customer, I can tell you when I'm in front, he lags behind, and when I'm behind, he runs on as if a mad bull were at his heels ; it's very exciting, but I confess I don't admire it.
So you've met Mr. Peregrine Popplewig, have you ?
Yes, and in the most singular manner. But just look down the road, and see whether they're coming, Arabella.
Enchanted, my dear Madam.
And, as you'll soon be one of the family, I'll authorize you to embrace her.
You're positively cruel, brother ! embrace a lady of my age—it's an infliction !
Your age, my dear Miss Biffin ? but it's a splendid age, there are thousands of people that never attain to half of it.
Now the other cheek, of course.
Only fancy, Arabella! we came all the way from the station with Peregrine without knowing who he was, and he worried me to such an extent that I don't know what I should have done to him if I had'nt been a peaceable man!
Come now, confess—you thought me a detestable bore, didn't you ?
Of course I did, and Clara said you were insufferable.
You don't say so! Poor dear little Clara!
But I thought he was a perfect stranger then.
You needn't apologize-—I'm not in the least offended, I assure you.
There, we'll talk about all that some other time; I'm in a hurry to see how my prize melon is getting on— will you come and look at it ?
I shouldn't be sorry to get rid of a little of the dust I've accumulated, in the first place.
Nonsense! you mustn't be ceremonious: in the country people never think about their dress.
No, but they wash their faces sometimes, I presume ?
Oh yes—on Sundays!
If Mr. Popplewig will go into the house, the servants will show him his room—he'll find everything he requires.
A thousand thanks, fair aunt.
Make haste, Peregrine ; we'll wait for you in the garden.
I'll be with you in ten minutes.
—Which is the way into the house ?
Oh! I see! Thank you, fair aunt,
Pair aunt, fair aunt! I can't bear that young man, there's an air of cool sneering impudence about him that annoys me beyond endurance; but he hasn't gained the day yet, and he won't either, for when once I've made up my mind to a thing, nothing stops me—nothing.
The little old guy, I mean.
What?
With a queer little sort of a daughter, I mean.
Certainly.
Perhaps you are the daughter in question.
Me ? what an idea!
Why, there are daughters of all ages, you know.
The young lady you allude to is my niece.
Ah ! you are the sweet creature's aunt, are you ? I've heard that she is going to be married !
Does that interest you ?
Rather ! has her intended arrived ?
He came from Bognor a few minutes ago, with my brother.
What, Peregrine is here ?
You know Mr. Popplewig.
Know him ? I should rather think I did. A monster who has robbed me.
Robbed you ?
Of my peace of mind, and all my innocent illusions, the monster.
So then, this marriage
It sha'n't take place—I'll break it off—I'll break everything on the premises, and if you cry out, I'll cry louder, only try me that's all.
Cry out. On the contrary, I'm delighted—I'd give anything to prevent the match.
You don't say so—and I was on the point of scratching your eyes out.
We've both the same end in view, and if you have the slightest claim upon him—
Claim upon him—heavens I should think I had. If I were to repeat to you all his vows—
His vows ? That's enough—all vows are sacred.
Of course they are, when they're made by other people, and he shall keep his.
You seem to me to be a strong-minded woman.
I should think I was.
And you won't let him marry Clara ?
Let him marry her ? I'd sooner assassinate him at the foot of the registrar!
That's right, be firm, and depend upon it I will help you with all my might.
I hear his voice ; don't let him see you, he might escape us.
You're right. I'll hide myself, and burst upon him like a Congreve rocket,
You've come just in time, Mr. Popplewig— there's a lady here who is very anxious to speak to you.
A lady—I shall be delighted to listen to her.
The Mexican! All right—I expected you.
What!—this is not Mr. Peregrine Popplewig ?
Of course it isn't—that's Walker.
Walker?
Well, suppose I am Walker, what then ?
Then you're an impostor, Sir—a base swindler, and I shall instantly expose you to my brother.
You won't do anything of the sort, fair aunt.
You shall see whether I won't! You thrust yourself under an assumed name into the bosom of an honorable family; of course your object is evident—you hoped to marry my neice.
Me marry your neice ? never! I've made up my mind to marry at seventy-five, when I want to settle down to a quiet life, but not till then—
Then what brings you here ?
What brings me here? I've come here on purpose to render you an important service, fair aunt.
Nonsense, I'm not easily imposed upon, I can assure you.
You don't believe me—me, the bosom friend of Simon!
Simon!
Simon? who's he ? a cobbler?
Simon Slowboy, whom I met at the Bognor Station, and with whom I changed coats at his express desire. He's coming as fast as he can, but I've come on before him to have a little quiet conversation with you, fair aunt.
I don't believe a word of it.
What, you want my credentials ? Fortunately I've brought them with me.
Enough, Sir, I'm satisfied.
Excuse me, I'm not.
It's a regular gunpowder plot!
After all, I don't care who she marries, provided it isn't Peregrine.
There's a postscript.
Enough, Sir, I suppose Simon only gave you that letter that you might return it to me.
Return it to you ? Of course, by and bye. But in the first place, we must settle what we shall do with Popplewig—I expect him every minute.
He is coming here ? and Simon ?
He's coming, too—they're both coming—it's all arranged.
Oh, as for Peregrine, just leave him to me, I'll soon dispose of him.
Then we must find some means of keeping you here.
I'll manage that—I'll introduce this lady to brother as an old friend.
A lady?
A stranger? Excuse me, my dear Madam Eh! why, it's the lady who was on the top of the
omnibus.
is it possible that you are Mr. Biffin ? If I had only known it, dear Sir!
The Marchioness of Popo —
Widow of a Mexican General.
Indeed!
You don't say so!
So I fancied! The Marchioness is Mexican by birth, I presume ?
Why, not exactly. I was born at Peckham, but I didn't hang out there long.
Hangout! how purely Mexican.
And for the last few years I've been knocking about in all quarters of the globe. I've led a precious vagabond life, I can tell you!
However, as I happened to be in this neighbourhood, I said to myself, 'Suppose I drop in upon my old friend Arabella!' and here I am.
How comes it that you've never spoken to me of the Marchioness, Arabella ?
Oh, we were so young when we parted.
Young ? I should think we were—I haven't seen her since I was three years old!
Hem, hem !
Three years old.
You've a charming daughter, Mr. Biffin.
You're very good, Marchioness.
Well, so she is.
The Marchioness will excuse us, I'm sure, but as we didn't anticipate the distinguished honour of her visit, we can only invite her to partake of the family dinner.
Besides, I know what a family dinner means, plain but enormously substantial, that's just the thing for me.
With all my heart, it's just what I was going to propose—
With pleasure, dear Mr. Biffin.
What there is left of him, my dear Miss Biffin.
Good gracious, what a state you are in.
I don't appear to advantage, I dare say, fortunately there is nobody here! my coat's in an awful pickle, but you know I've got a better one at home.
What in the world has happened to you ? have you been fighting?
Fighting! I should think I have—I've had a tremendous tussle with a donkey.
A donkey ?
Yes, a wretched quadruped that I hired at Bognor Station. They warranted him as quiet as a lamb, but I hadn't got half way before he shied at an old woman in a red cloak, made a desperate plunge, and sent me flying over his head into a ditch.
Never mind, you are here—that's the most important part.
I should so like a little warm water and a cake of brown Windsor.
You can't imagine how impatiently I have been expecting you. Your friend has arrived.
My friend ?
The gentleman who met you at Bognor.
Ah ! yes, at the inn.
What, it's true then—and you did really borrow his paletot.
It was his, was it ? how droll!
You didn't know it was his ?
Of course I didn't. What has he come here for?
What, you mean to say you didn't send him ?
On the contrary, he wanted me to come with him and I wouldn't.
You were wrong.
Of course I was; if I had come with him I should have escaped the donkey.
I think I had better inform him.
Don't be in a hurry! I should so like a little warm water and a cake of brown Windsor.
Eh ?
I have been his dupe, after all!
This gentleman ?
You don't know him ?
Know him ? of course I do—it's Slowboy. Ah, Slowboy my boy, how are you ?
Excuse me, Sir, but I haven't the honor
There, you see he doesn't know you!
To be sure he doesn't—what of that ?
And you said you were his friend !
So I did—but I didn't say he was my friend, did I? It's nothing new to be the friend to somebody who isn't a friend to you—it's an every day occurrence.
Your conduct is scandalous, Sir! you have taken advantage of the confiding innocence of my sex !
Me, fair aunt ? heaven forbid! What do you want me to do ? I'm ready to serve you, heart and soul! You look incredulous, Slowboy, but you may count upon me—never fear. I think it would be just as well if you were to try the effect of a brush and a towel—you're in a frightful pickle!
I assure you it's by the merest accident.
And you've brought back my paletot in a nice state, too.
It wasn't me, it was the donkey.
It's precisely the same thing. But make haste—
What, you know our plan ?
I know all, and I'll give you a lift, depend upon it.
I assure you ! you may not have noticed it, but he's the very image of you—your eyes, your
nose, in fact, everything!
Eh ? what Peregrine ?
Mr. Popplewig.
The genuine Popplewig this time, and no mistake.
It's an agreeable surprise that I reserved for you, and you ought to thank your stars that I am here—I can tell you.
Well to tell you the truth, I'm not sorry to find somebody that I know upon the premises. You couldn't oblige me with a little vinegar and brown paper, could you ?
What for?
What for ?—look at that.
Good gracious!
What in the world have you been about ? cut yourself shaving ?
(C.) Cut myself, indeed! No, it was that infernal
I came on foot, but when I was about half way, a carriage overtook me—a carriage with a sort of shelf behind to sit upon, with a row of spikes to prevent one from sitting upon it; but I thought I could manage to enjoy the seat and avoid the spikes—so, as I was horribly tired, I climbed up, and took my seat.
Upon the spikes. I see—ha, ha, ha !
Nothing of the sort !
Well, you got up behind the carriage—I can foresee the consequence.
I am certain that coachmen must have eyes in the back of their heads—the fact isn't recorded in any treatise on zoology, but it's a shameful omission, for I'm sure it's true, for my coachman knew that I was there as soon as I had mounted, and he gave me the most terrific cut—
I expected that.
But I didn't expect it, I assure you. I tried to get down but I couldn't—my trowsers caught to one of the spikes, I was regularly hooked, and whilst I was unhooking myself the confounded coachman laid on with his whip as if the devil had been at his elbow. To think that such things happen when we've got a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals!
It's abominable—if I were in your place, I should make a complaint.
I've been doing nothing else for the last halfhour! You couldn't oblige me with a little vinegar and brown paper, could you ?
Indeed! the idea of talking about vinegar and brown paper in your situation.
Well, it seems to me that, in my situation, it's the most rational idea in the world.
But you don't know what a critical position you're in.
Yes I do—I'm horribly afraid of erisypelas, that's why I want the vinegar and brown paper.
Nonsense ! you're standing on the crater of a volcano.
Good gracious !
She's here!
She? who?
Your Mexican charmer.
The Marchioness of Popo —
Catapettl.
Sophonisba a marchioness.
Sophonisba!
And you say she's here ?
You're completely done for, my poor fellow ! Biffin knows all—he'll give his daughter to somebody else, and send you back to Jeri—Mexico.
Oh, as for Biffin, I can easily manage him—he's such a precious old pump !
A pump!
Take care what you say—his sister mayn't like it.
His sister ? what sister ?
Ha ! you didn't know—it's my fault, I forgot to present you.
Miss Biffin! my dear Madam, I beg ten thousand pardons! If I had only known—I assure you I
didn't mean to say it—it escaped me.
Under all the circumstances, Mr. Popplewig, I've only one piece of advice to offer you—it is to depart immediately !
Depart immediately! is that the vinegar and brown paper you offer me ?
He's quite right—you can't turn a wounded man out of doors in that fashion; besides, he's come from New York, he must be dreadfully tired, poor fellow! you can't do less than ask him to sit down and rest himself. It's the Mexican that must go, and I'll answer for it I'll get rid of her—leave it all to me.
(R.) Tell her I've gone back to New York—she'll be sure to follow me.
Hide me ? No, thank you, I've had enough of that for one day.
Don't be ridiculous! do you want to fall into the clutches of Sophonisba ?
I'd rather be sent to Botany Bay for life!
Very well then, you must hide yourself—it's your only chance.
Well, if I must—not in a water-butt though, mind that.
Where shall we put him ? I have it—in the pigeon-house!
Excellent! he'll be perfectly safe there.
You think that's a good place ? I don't half like the look of it.
You don't think she'll find me out ?
Not the slightest chance of it, it's the last place in the world where the poor little dove would think of looking for her truant mate.
I should have been so glad if I could have had —
Go in there—at any rate, we'll see about the vinegar and brown paper presently.
Don't be alarmed, in an hour I'll make you free.
—Meanwhile, I'll make free to keep the key.
I can't understand your plan at all—we want to get rid of him, and he wanted to go away, and yet you keep him here.
Because he would have been sure to come back again, fair aunt, but if we once get him into the clutches of the Marchioness, she'll rid us of him completely.
Very true.
And we shall annoy him frightfully at the same time, that's the best of it.
I'll run and tell her he's here.
That's right, fair aunt, we've driven the game to
There'll be a glorious row here presently, that there will! But in the midst of it what will
become of me ? I've got all the bellegerents together, and set them by the ears in splendid
style; but suppose they should forget their animosities, and all combine together in an
onslaught upon me! By Jove, that would be a bombardment! and such things have happened before
now. All things considered, I think it's high time for me to disappear—I'll go and see
Stonehenge.
What, going, Mr. Popplewig ?
Excuse me, I'm only going to take a turn in the lane.
I came to tell you that dinner is on the table.
Listen to me, my dear Miss Biffin—we are alone, and two words will suffice to set all
straight; you disliked me the first moment you saw me—our marriage would be sure to be an
unhappy one,—permit me to wish you a very good morning.
What, you are going to leave us, and so abruptly too?
Do you think I'd make you wretched for my life ? never! I wish you a very good morning,
Ah, Mr. Popplewig! I didn't think I should have been so much deceived in my judgment of you.
But you were not deceived at all, my dear Miss Biffin: you thought me an insufferable fellow— so I am.
I thought so at first, it's true ; but since I have known that you were to be my husband, I have watched you more closely—I have tried to analyse your character.
So much the worse—it's like the cheap coffee, it won't bear analysing.
You are rather aggravating sometimes, I confess.
Rather aggravating ! I'm abominably aggravating, insufferably aggravating ! I know it, but I
can't help it— it's the delight of my existence to teaze people, to annoy
It's a failing, that's true, but everybody has some failing—I've plenty myself, I can assure you: if you had none, why, then I should not be worthy of you.
Besides, though you are aggravating, you've a good heart—I'm sure you have; and I've even remarked, though perhaps I ought not to tell you so, that you're very agreeable when you forget yourself.
When I forget myself?
And you forget yourself very often, too.
It's astonishing how much one is deceived by first impressions. At first I disliked you very much—
And now?
Oh, now it's all over, of course—but just now—
Well, just now ?
Just now my only fear was, that you wouldn't like me.
And it seems that I had good reason to fear it too, since you are going to leave us.
I don't know what's the matter with me, but I'm getting into a frightful state—head, heart, and all are in the most fearful fermentation! You've treated me shamefully, my dear Miss Biffin, upon my soul you have !
Me, Mr. Popplewig ?
Of course! why didn't you tell me at once that you were an angel, then I should have known
what I was about; but no, you never even give me the slightest hint of such a thing—you
allowed me to go on making myself atrociously disagreeable, and now, all of a sudden, you
burst upon me in the full radiance of all your perfections,
Indeed! how so ?
How so ? because I had made up my mind not to marry till I was seventy-five.
It's a great deal too late—I can never expect you to wait for me all that time, of course not—so I must get over the difficulty the best way I can.
Then you are not going to leave us.
Leave you, never! There'll be a precious row I know ; but never mind, I'll brave them all.
Ah ! you're together, are you ? Well, Clara, you are beginning to like Peregrine a little better, are you ?
Well, yes, Papa, I think I am a little.
Yes, my dear Mr. Biffin, there's a perfect mine of sympathy between us—we've just discovered it. We love each other already—isn't funny ?
I've got my own coat again, but I'm afraid I must be very red; I've had to wash with yellow soap; and I'm all over in a tingle.
That's me—at your service, Sir.
Excuse my presenting myself in this state—this coat isn't quite the thing for a visit, but I've got a better one at home.
I'm very glad to hear it, Sir.
And of course, when one has just landed from New York
You've come from New York ? indeed!
You don't recognise me—your heart doesn't tell you that I'm Peregrine Popplewig.
You?
Come to my arms, father-in-law.
Your name ?
Yes, my name—my personal and exclusive property—do you hear that ?
Why, it was you yourself who told me to—
Hold your tongue young man—nobody wants to listen to your observations—retire within yourself, and stop there till I call for you.
What audacity.
Where is he ? where's Popplewig ? I demand Popplewig!
Here I am !
Of course—there he is.
He ? that's Walker!
Walker! then perhaps that's he.
Neither one nor the other.
The devil! if I wasn't a peaceable man—I'd knock somebody's head off this very minute.
Help ! help ! let me out! open the door !
A man in my pigeon-house ?
My dear Sir, let me out, I implore you ! Is your name Biffin ?
Of course it is.
Then come to my rescue, and save your son-in-law from total annihilation !
My son-in-law ? what son-in-law ?
Why, me to be sure—Peregrine Popplewig ?
Three Popplewigs ? it's perfectly phenomenal!
That's the genuine one, I'll warrant him.
Let me out, for mercy's sake let me out—your pigeon-house is full of rats ! they're beginning at my toes already, and if you don't let me out there'll be nothing left of me in half-an-hour but my braces !
Don't let him out—let the rats devour him ! he deserves it, the reprobate, for coming here to marry your daughter when he is already bound to another by a chain of roses.
He's married ?
I said a chain of roses, Mr. Biffin.
Help! help! I've got a rat in my waistcoat pocket!
There's the key, Marchioness.
I've a great mind to keep him there a little longer among the rats, only I can't afford to
have him damaged, so I'll be merciful though he doesn't deserve it.
Now perhaps you'll furnish me with an explanation of your conduct, Mr. Walker.
Don't call me Walker—I'm no more Walker than I am Popplewig.
Then who the devil are you ? some nameless adventurer, I'll answer for it.
Yes brother, an adventurer who has been tracked here by the police.
The police!
There's the drab coat—I've got him!
Simon!
What, Simon Slowboy.
Yes, it's me, and he's caught me.
And you had the audacity to attempt to pass yourself off for Mr. Popplewig, young man.
Why, you see Mr. Biffin, it wasn't quite the thing, I know, but Miss Arabella led me to hope —
That will do Simon, we don't want any explanation,
Oh of course, if you're going to come down with the ready, that's perfectly satisfactory—I'll wait outside till you're disengaged.
There's nothing wants clearing up— I've come to marry your daughter, hand her over, there's an end of the matter.
That's impossible, for I'm going to marry her myself.
You?
You marry my daughter ? never !
I've got your promise in writing. Mr. Biffin, of course you'll honour your signature.
Monster!
I've settled the whole affair with Miss Biffin—she has given her consent.
Arabell— Is it possible ?
And in writing too—I can show it to you if you like,
It's quite unnecessary.
That may be, but I've pledged my word; and besides, I'm sure Clara prefers Peregrine.
Of course she does,
On the contrary, papa, I wouldn't marry him for the world.
Bravo! that's a settler!
But I don't even know his name.
Never mind, you'll hear it when we publish the banns.
Very good, where shall he call upon you ?
At New York—I'll go back there directly.
We'll go back together, Peregrine, when you've given me your hand.
You shall have it Sophonisba—I'll get it cast in plaster, and send it to you by the Parcels Delivery.
Don't be a fool, Peregrine ! I've got you, and I'll hold you fast this time, depend upon it.
Well, I suppose I must consent; but if I am to have you for a son-in-law, I'll give up being
a peaceable man for the rest of my life.
]That's right, make the best of what you can't
boring for it.