1863; Or, The Sensations Of The Past Season. : TEI edition

1863; Or, The Sensations Of The Past Season. With A Shameful Revelation Of Lady Somebody's Secret. In one act. By Henry J . Byron, Esq., Author Of The Old Story ; Dundreary Married and Done For; Cinderella; Blue Beard from a New Point of Hue ; Robinson Crusoe ; Mazeppa ; The Maid and the Magpie, or the Fatal Spoon; The Babes in the Wood; Bride of Abydos; Fra Diavolo ; Jack the Giant Killer; Very Latest Edition of the Lady of Lyons ; The Nymph of the Lurleyberg; Pilgrim of Love; The Garibaldi Excursionists; Aladdin, or the Wonderful Scamp; Esmeralda, or the Sensation Goat; Goldenhair the Good ; Ivanhoe in Accordance, etc.; Beauty and the Beast; Rival Othellos; Whittington and his Cat; Puss in a New Pair of Boots; Miss Eily O' Conner ; George de Barnwell; Our Sea-side Lodgings; That Dear Old Darling; The Rosebud of Stinging-nettle Farm ; The Sensation Fork; My Wife and I; Beautiful Haidee, or the Sea Nymph and the Sallee Rovers; Ill Treated Il Trovatore; The Motto : "I am all there!" St. George and the Dragon; Lady Belle Belle; Orpheus and Eurydice, or the Young Gentleman who charmed the Hocks; &c.&c. Part Author Of The Miller and his Men; Valentine and Orson; & Forty Thieves (Savage Club).Thomas Hailes Lacy, 89, Strand, London.

First performed at the Theatre Royal, St. James's, (under the management of Mr. Benjamin Webster,) on Saturday, the 26th of December, 1863,

The Highly Successful Comical Conglomerative Absurdity, entitled 1863; Or, The Sensations Of The Past Season, With A Shameful Revelation Of Lady Somebodys Secret!

The Splendid New Scenery by the celebrated Artists, Messrs. Danson and Sons. The Appointments by Mr. T. Ireland. The Music composed and arranged by Mr. Wallerstein.

Programme of Scenery, Characters, &c Scene 1. The Author’s Chambers. Fancy (“only Fancy”) Miss Adeline Cottrell An Author (who is supposed to supply the Management with a Piece, but doesn't) Miss Fanny Josephs. Mrs . Brown (by permission of Arthur Sketching—his Housekeeper) Mr. J. L. Toole. "Black Spirits and White, Red Spirits and Grey.” The Haunted Man Our Dear Friend, Banquo Hamlet’s Father A Corsican Brother Scene 2 . A Hoarding In London. A French Gentleman From The Lyceum A Misanthropic Gentleman From Drury Lane Mr. J.L. Toole. An Alluring Lady From The Adelphi Miss Percival.

The Novel Determination And The Duet.

Scene III. Robert Audley's Chambers Robert Audley (a young Barrister, who does not find that Life is Brief) Miss Fanny Josephs. >George Tall (or Paul) Boys(who finding himself short at home has been long abroad) Mr. Paul Bedford.

To Audley Court, Away!

Scene IV The Gothic Chamber And The Lime-Tree Walk ! ” Lady Audley (can't describe her—see her) Mr. J. L. Toole. Sir Michael (who proves that all’s Fish that comes to the Baro-net) Mr. Chamberlain. Luke Marks (bad marks decidedly) Mr. James Johnstone. Phoebe (a Damsel who hasn’t much to do and does it) Miss Dalton.

The Meeting! The Crime! All’s well that ends swell—several exciting incidents, leading to a Decided Fog—and eventually to a charming closing Scene, illustrative of the Land of Thistles, Land of Shamrocks, and the Land of the Roses! Eventually combining in the Final Scene of The Heraldic Holiday.

1863; Or, The Sensations Of The Past Season. Scene First.— Study of the Author—a handsome apartment, comfortably furnished. Bookshelves—table covered with papers, pens, ink, &c.; doors R. and L. ; mysterious music. Enter from L. door, the Author, he is smoking a cigar—he walks up and down the room for some moments—pauses and hits his forehead. Author. I've got it! No, I haven't—wish I had. Hum! my position's really rather sad ; I am an author—pity if you can, I need it more than any author man. T'wards winter time the agonies increase Of those, who like me have to find a piece For Christmas, and I can't a subject get;— I haven't got the smallest piece as yet. I've worked most certainly, but I must say At present it's been all work and no play. (goes to table and sits) The mighty Molière, I have heard it said, To his old housekeeper his dramas read. Her critical remarks determined what Slight alteration in the words and plot Would make them more effective. I, (rises) like him, Will from her lonely kitchen deep and dim, Call Mrs. Brown, my housekeeper, she may Give me a hint perhaps for my Christmas play. (Ballet Music—the Author goes through pantomime business and rings bell—he then comes down to front) Enter Mrs. Brown, R. door, a GampishMrs Gamp first appears in Dickens Martin Chuzzlewit (1843-4) elderly female. Come, Mrs. Brown, ma'am, your advice is needed. Mrs. B. Which when the bell rung and it frighten me did, For nerves has always been with me through life A drawback—going through me like a knife— I was a sittin' down to—I declare— As nice a hand of pork as ever were, Which it is not my habit, beyond question, To suppers eat, because of indigestion, Which troubled with I've been, I must admit, Since a mere infant; "but a little bit," Says Mrs. Mivins, sir, a friend of mine She is, and lives at number thirty-nine Little Godolphin-street, just past the baker's, And almost opposite the undertaker's. "A little bit," she says, says she, "won't do No harm to me, mum—no—nor yet to you, Which little 'appiness you ever get." And there, upon the instant, off she set Together with a basin and a saucer, Which the biled pork till nine from half-past four, sir, Is, as a body might say, "laid on;" which, A simmering for hours, it gets that rich, Not to say juicy, as makes party's feel That 'ungry, which it's an unwholesome meal Of that I am aware, but werry nice, And if I might suggest an 'umble slice— If not, you won't consider me too bold, But pork's a nasty knack of getting cold. Author. Bother. Shut up. Hem! Pauca verba. Stop it. Mrs. B. A small bit on a hot plate I'll just pop it, A piece of nice peas pudding too and —— Author. Cease. I wish to speak about another piece— A Christmas one. I don't know what to do. Can't you suggest a subject, something new ? Mrs. B. Which at suggestions I'm by no means happy, Ain't there no news at present on the tappy ? ? Fancy enters suddenly through the panelling, C., Mrs. Brown shrieks. Fancy. (c.) Don't be alarmed. I'm Fancy—only Fancy ! Mrs. B. (r.) Which I must say I wish I was with Nancy. Author. You're Fancy are you ? It appears to me That most decidedly you're Fancy free. Fancy. Now don't be personal or I retort. I've come to aid you. Author. (L., aside) Which are things is short. Fancy. You want a subject—very good. Let's see. How about D'Anois ? Countess d'Anois (Marie-Catherin d'Aulnoy) author of Tales of the fairies Author. Done to death. Fancy. May be, But still - Author. A brilliant graceful pen you know Maybe Planche? Has worked that golden mine out long ago. Fancy. The classics? Author. Done, both jovially and neatly. Fancy. The Arabian Nights? Author. Used up. Fancy. What all? Author. Completely. Mrs. B. Might I suggest Will Watch,Legendary smuggler and privateer; cf melodrama Will Watch and his Black Eyed Susan or more amusing, Jonathan Bradford,? sir, or Black Eyed Susing. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black-Eyed_Susan Though I must say one really didn't ought For to see reticule on either brought. Medley trio.—"Wanted a Governess." https://digitalcommons.conncoll.edu/sheetmusic/882/; https://hdl.huntington.org/digital/collection/p16003coll4/id/6515 Author. Wanted a subject that's suited to fill The front of the house and the manager's till, A powerful name for the holiday bill; There's ever a way when you've once got the will, When you've once got the will. Fancy. "I'm not guilty."—La Sonnambula. Bellini's one act opera "The Sleep Walker" is everywhere on the Internet Italian opera With choruses tra la la la, Have been done to death And pund'd to death, Over and over again. Ballets popular, Mazurka and the Corsair Have been both extravaganza'd And have answered very well. Mrs. B. "Polly Perkins." Oh, ain't there no song as is going about, Which is set to the horgins, and little boys shout; There's a ditty as is poppylar, if the subject's convene- Ient, called Pretty Polly Perkins of Paddington Green. Harry Clifton's composition, first published in 1864, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pretty_Polly_Perkins_of_Paddington_Green All. There's a ditty, &c. Fancy. Is there no serious drama now the go That's capable of comic treatment? Author. No. Fancy. Can't anything be done about Tom King, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_King_(boxer) (maybe) British endurance, and that sort of thing? Author. That's a mere episode, besides it low, I want a subject, not a King, you know. Fancy. A bright idea's struck me ; wait a bit. Author. Well, if it struck you, it must be a hit. What is it ? Fancy. Well, suppose instead of one Subject, at which to poke one's Christmas fun, We go through the sensations of the season, With rhyme, in which may lurk a little reason ; A retrospective glance take of the past; And with a comprehensive vision vast, At the sensations take a sight, you see, Of bygone Eighteen hundred sixty-three. Then when we've done, 'twill be for you to choose The one most calculated to amuse. Author. Your hand upon 't—a first-rate notion. Fancy. Well; At once, I'd best commence to weave my spell. The lights a little down, please—take your post, While first I summon the Adelphi Ghost. ? (lights lowered—tremulous music) Fancy. From your distant spirit can, Dircks and Pepper's Haunted Man; Pepper, John Henry (1890). The True History of the Ghost. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pepper%27s_ghost Or from out your box where you Kept are till the lights burn blue; By the run you had of late. By the ashes of the grate, By the spectral music weird, Which they played when you appeared; By the shiver in the pit When you laughed at Redlaw's hit, Redlaw is the central character in Dickens' novella The Haunted Man, an adaptation of which saw the first public performance of Pepper's ghost. By the folks who places sought, By the lots of tin you brought. By the hearts in dread which beat, By the length of your " poor feet," By the stage, the wings, the flies. By plum puddings and mince pies, I command thee to arise. (incantation music from "Robert the Devil," and the Adelphi Ghost Of Haunted Man rises C. —more miserable, if possible, than ever) Author. Is this the Ghost ? He seems in sad condition. Ghost of H. M. Oh, I'm a very wretched Pepper-ition ! Mrs. B. Which, apparition, I suppose, is meant. Ghost of H. M. You recollect how very well I went; Well, hosts of copies rose around about— The speculation paying past a doubt. But my ghost, like a knife at the theayters, Cut out the specs of all the imitaters. Still, Pepper said I should protected be ; He's now, like Horniman's, a patent-tea. The patent for Pepper's Ghost was a subject of much contention. Advertising for Horniman's patent tea concerned its purity and/or patented containers. The Chancellor did grant it—it's a bore To those who rather dread the chance o' law. The others are ex-spectres now, you see, Which they did not of course expecter be. (Music of a Caledonian nature) Fancy. Hah ! by the itching of my thumbs There's something Scottish this way comes. 'Tis Banquo's Ghost. We'll have 'em all, and see Which is the best one for our travestie. Banquo comes up L., trap quickly. Author. He came up sharp enough, too, from below. Fancy. The Scotch do rise uncommon quick, you know. Mrs.B. The trap which hoists a Scot with sudden pop Must have been purchased at Scott's hoister shop. ? Banquo. A weel, weel, weel, weel. (pause) Fancy. Proceed, I pray, You might go on with four wheels, I should say. Banquo. I dinna ken the joke. Well, Mistress Fancy, I answer to the call of necromancy. I've left my native clime, and here I've come. Mrs. B. He won't be a Scotch missed there, will he, mum? Banquo. Alas ! the times are changed. Some years ago I wore — Mrs. B. A wreath of roses ? Fancy. Silence! Banquo. No; But cross-barred stockings, kilt, pouch, large Scotch bonnet, My neck a broad gash of rose pink had on it; My arms and legs did yellow fleshings wear, And looked, excepting wrinkles, really bare. But Archaeologists clapped on a stopper, Declaring that my costume was improper. ? Mrs. B. Which they was right. I've often said to Brown, "How them Scotch gents can walk about the town, Especially in such cold weather— " Banquo. So, They changed my dress; but heavier far the blow I'm to endure. The Ghost of Pepper means To take my place at future banquet scenes. Limelight and glass contrive to overthrow The flesh and blood ghost of defunct Banquo. This for the drama's an unlucky age, When thus they cast reflections on the stage. Fancy. We must march with the times, my friend; but stay, Another ghost had better step this way. The Ghost of Hamlet's father. Mrs. B. Which I were Took quite aback by him at Greenwich Fair, ? Which Hamlet, Susan Hopley,Susan Hopley, Or, The Adventures of a Maid-Servant by Catherine Crowe: 1842 "A tale of humble life, but one of exceeding beauty, simplicity, and pathos. Dramatic in its incident, natural in its characters, and highly moral in its scope and tendency, we know of no work more calculated to be profitably perused by all classes. " (Dublin Monitor): http://www.victorianresearch.org/atcl/show_title.php?tid=3224&aid=1161 and a ballet, Was played in ten minnits exactually. The Ghost Of Hamlet's Father enters through bookcase, C. Author. Right through the books! Let's see, which volume—where ? The works of Martin Tupper, I declare! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Farquhar_Tupper: "What's the difference between Tupper's stuff and pork stuffing?" asks another hack. "The one is good enough for the sage's saws, and the other for sausages." "To dream that you have written all Mr Tupper's Works (and on waking to find you haven't) is very lucky," declares "Professor Punch's Dream-Book". Another paper says that it is forbidden to bring Tupper's works or Parliamentary Blue-books aboard a steamboat, as their "excessive weight" made them dangerous to passengers. And so it goes on, and on, and on..." (https://archive.org/details/martintupperhisr0000huds In eighteen volumes—see—two lengthy rows ; Mrs. B. He was a clever ghost to get through those. Ghost of H. F. You talk of your disgrace, indeed; it's small Compared to mine at Canterbury Hall; ? Exhibited—but not allowed to speak— For—but I can't say what I got a week. It's driven me to drink; for when I think Of what I was, despondently I sink ; And recollection of before my fall, I in the full de-canter bury all Frown not, my son; I don't your anger merit— I'm never drunk, though I'm thy father's spirit! Fancy. Another still—one of the noted pair Of twins ! (the "Ghost Melody" from the Corsican Brothers) I feel he comes from that Kean air! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Corsican_Brothers_(play) The Ghost Of The Corsican Brother rises, R. Ghost of C. B. What's this ? the ghost of Fabian dei Franchi One of the eponymous Corsican brothers Give way to Dircks and Pepper's hankey pankey?https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Dircks I, who in distant forest was laid low, With one artistic fatal Fontaine blow. The instant that I met with my mishap, Upon the spot I jumped into a trap; And did appear, although it's rather far, In course o' time, over in Corsica. A ghost who does such things shall ne'er be stooper To the lime-light reflection of a super. Thrown on a sheet of plate glass—it's a shame ! No wonder I'm in such a wretched frame. I seldom let a friend untreated pass; But in this case I will not stand a glass. Mrs. B. I don't feel altogether easy; and If a lone party might — Fancy. (to Ghosts) You understand ! You may retire upon your wretched missions; Mrs. B. Which I must say, them seem unhappy ritions. Hope they'll go soon! Author. Of that there's little fear; My spirits always go soon when you're here. Mrs. B. Don't let's dispute about such parties, please; Because tain't often as we disagrees ; Which Brown observed—he seldom spoke at random— De ghostibus non est disputandem. Concerted Piece.—"The Ghost Gallop."—By F. Musgrave. Fancy. Now you down below, Everyone must toddle, To this pleasant gallop, Which is called the Ghost. Mrs. B. Morning air, you, know, Doesn't suit your noddle ; Author. You can only stand it for ten minutes at the most. Ghost of H. M. I must pop off to the Strand! Ghost of Banquo. I must go to Scotland! Ghost of C. B. I'm off to Australia to join my brother there! Ghost of H. F. I must go to what I must denominate a hot land! Fancy. Very much obliged to you, pray of yourselves take care. To the dance finale each Ghost does a walk round characteristic of his nature—All dance off, L. 1 E.

Scene Second.—A Street Hoarding covered with large Posters of "Leah," "Bel Demonio," "Manfred," &c. Enter Fancy and Author, L. 1 E. Fancy. A street in London as was lately seen : In advertising now, one can't be mean ; If you would catch the capital at all, You must have capitals upon the wall. Author. The weakest go unto the wall, they say. Fancy. Once, but it's not so in the present day, These railroad times, if you don't mind you'll find Though right before, you'll soon be left behind. Don't try to save in printing and engraving. Author. There's much more there of hoarding than of saving. Fancy. Now keep your eye upon that corner, well, Whilst I commence to weave my magic spell. (Music) Brave Bel Demonio"The piece called Bel Demonio, which was produced on Saturday is not so much a play as a series of splendid tableaux into which the actors are introduced like figures in a classic landscape rather for the purpose of improving the picturesqueness of the scene than for that of illustrating any actual or possible occurrence of real life." (Morning Post, 1863-11-02, quoted in https://footlightnotes.wordpress.com/tag/bel-demonio-play/), brigand, lover true, Who four long acts and one thick wall gets through ; Who makes love in a way insinuating, Setting all female hearts a palpitating ; Who, soon as a few tender words are spoken, Shows that his English, like his heart, is broken;— Fancy commands him to appear. Appear ! (portion of scene opens and Bel Demonio appears, R.) Bel. Where is my Lena? Lena isn't here. Fancy. You see he's quite agreeable and chatty. Bel. My Lena! Oh! I had a Lena. Author. Patti ? ? Bel. She was about to be a nun, I stopped it; There was a guard who interfered—I whopped it; I put my wife upon my breast and flew; But there were fifty at the least to two. They took her back—a sleeping draught they gave her, And upon stone, the rascals did engrave her; But through a buttress thick I slided slap; I always was a buttery sort of chap ; I went down, saw my Lena sleeping there, So young, so innocent, so passing fair— The very beetles stopped to have a stare. I shake her once—twice ;—Ha, ha, ha, she wakes! See! she's reviving in a brace of shakes. Angelo! Lena! Ha, my wife ! My hubby ! She recognizes me, though rather grubby. A shriek—embrace. Enter the people, headed By the old Cardinalhttps://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw175339/John-Brougham-as-the-Cardinal-in-in-Bel-Demonio, who says we're wedded. Convulsive grief distends her father's thorax, And mutual forgiveness ends the four acts. Author. My gallant foreigner. (crossing to him) I'm glad to know you, And I admit we really much do owe you, Our stage did alterations greatly need, Though the French carpenters did not succeed. ? Trio.—Air, "C'est moi qui suis le petit clerc." Offenbach: https://theoperadatabase.com/PDFs/Offenbach/Tenor/C%20est%20moi%20qui%20suis%20le%20petit%20clerc.pdf Fancy. Brave Bel Demonio, pray take care, And don't give way too much, mon cher, To this sensation, And situation; Author. But on your dialogues as well, Bestow your educated taste ; Bel D. But show and bustle always tell, And money spent on paint's no waste And this correction— Fancy. We've no objection, To what you do, But say to you, All. Brave Bel Demonio, pray take care, And give your patrons solid fare. Exit Bel Demonio through scene, R. Fancy. Well, there's a subject for you ! Author. No, it isn't; Some things in it if joked would not be pleasant. Fancy. The subject though could surely not offend,— A strong French melo-drama. Author. No, my friend! But still I'd rather not. Fancy. What would you take ? Not a grand subject foolery to make ? Don't drag down works of genius ! Author. Oh dear, no ; But, pray, don't turn so very thin-skinned though. Though some may scout it, it's as oft's been seen, Burlesque is like the winnowing machine: It simply blows away the husks, you know, The goodly corn is not moved by the blow. What arrant rubbish of the clap-trap school Has vanished—thanks to pungent ridicule; What stock stage customs, nigh to bursting goaded, With so much blowing up have now exploded. Had our light writers done no good save this, Their doggrel efforts scarce had been amiss. Those overtopping letters look unsteady, As if they'd been imbibing something heady. Fancy. Success you know's intoxicating. Leah ? Has drawn and still draws folks from far and near. A Jewish maiden. What ! you wish to see her ? Leah, appear ! Music—Enter Leah through scene, L. Song—Fancy-—"Lord Bateman." Lord Bateman was a noble lord, A noble lord of high degree, But he was nothing, take my word, To Miss Bateman of the Adelphee.https://www.umass.edu/AdelphiTheatreCalendar/img097f.htm Leah. I came across the seas from distant land, And settled safely on a friendly strand. Adelphi, in the Greek, doth brothers mean; Brothers and sisters have the public been. No petty jealousy, no selfish smart Have warped their sense of justice and of art: And the Old Country has with ardour true Welcomed this importation from the New. Author. Like winking, all are rushing off to see her. Fancy. Yes, it's like winking, perhaps, 'cos it's a leer. Exit Leah, L. Author. That's a big poster, and what letters ! ? Fancy. Yes; How they can post such letters I can't guess. Let us invoke him, he's the public well hit. There, you can read the poster while I spell it. (Music) Manfred from Drury, gloomy, sombre, pray Oblige us, please, by coming round this way. https://www.mediastorehouse.com/uig/universal-images-group/universal-history-archive-uk/scene-manfred-drury-lane-theatre-9716991.html Author. He doesn't come. Fancy. Have patience, don't you know Without his scenery he's rather slow? (the scene flaps over discovering Manfred on the rock) Behold him there upon the rocky brink, Of misanthropic heroes quite the pink. Felo de se it seems a case of quite, A fellow does see him though, and holds him tight, A chamois hunter, and they struggle, but The chamois hunter's very sure of fut, And saves him. Stay! he speaks. Manfred. Oh! fickle town, Who can say what will or what won't go down ? Conceived in poet's brain not to be acted, It's most extraordinary, I attracted. Remorse at heart, dark fancies in my skull, Could I be anything but very dull ? My long soliloquies, though, seldom tired; The crowded audience listened and perspired: Though 'twas two hours full ere I'd talking done, I still had breath for a tremendous run. My scenery drew too, which the fact denotes, The public must be canvassed for their votes. When you've a good play do all that you can for-it. Say, am I right, or any other Man-fred. Author. Manfred won't do to joke, you may retire. (flap closes up) Fancy. Good gracious, man, what is it you require ? The Nile's discovery:—Come, Grant and Speke : https://hakluytsociety.wordpress.com/2018/05/11/a-walk-across-africa-the-nile-source-problem/ The great fact of the year. Author. The year ? it's weak. Fancy. I see a song to open with, bedad! Author. What's that ? Fancy. Why, "whistle a Nile come to you, my lad." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oh,_whistle_and_I%27ll_come_to_you,_my_lad Then at the end cheers from the front to wring, Make them all finish with an 'ileand fling. Author. Nothing could come from it, no, not a bit, You know the motto, "ex nilo nil fit." Fancy. You've got an ill fit of the blues, dear me! Nothing will suit you for a play; let's see. Oh! there's the Emperor's Congress. ? Author. Prythee cease; I wish that congress could but make a piece. Are there no novels of the season ? Fancy. Well, Some might raise laughter. Author. Yes, they're made to sell. Isn't there one would make a screamer ? Fancy. True, There's something Floyd. ? Author. A roarer—that'll do. Fancy. Take Lady Audley. Author. Not so bad—hear, hear! That was the literary rage last year; ? The thinnest skinned can't quarrel at our taking it, And into a short piece of nonsense making it Fancy. The book's too capital a novel much To suffer from the comic writer's touch. Don't vulgarise; be droll, but don't deride ; Most serious subjects have their funny side. Let's see together if we can't increase The season's laughter with a Christmas piece. Duet—Bolero (Arditi). Fancy. We will then at once set about Our duties so pleasant, our duties so pleasant. Author. Yes we will, and instanter the secret to fun turn. When we've a good story, As good as Aurory Floyd, parley no more. Exit, R.1 e. Fancy. And now while they're setting the scene there, I'll sing the Bolero, to prom'naders dear, As Jullien's, where https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louis-Antoine_Jullien Their shouts rend the air, And all round you hear brava! Like flute, oh ! it's as sweet, oh! And frisky, frisky also is. In fact it's the very thing To fill up the gap now. Sorry to, sorry to, sorry to P'raps impede, oh! but you see, Whilst they are setting The scene there, the scene there, the scene there, I'm solely the party that's left here in front. And so indeed, oh! and so indeed, oh! I am obliged thus to sing. And yes indeed, oh ! ah, yes indeed, oh! Ah, si mi piace brillar, Mi piace brillar, brillar! Exit, r. 1 e.

Scene Third. —The Chambers of Robert Audley, in the Temple ; pictures of horses, dancers, &c. Enter Robert Audley, R. 1 E., with book, which he throws on table. Robert. That last French novel's duller than the law. Pish, tush, and bother ! rubbish ! also pshaw! The story's actually rather moral, It's strongest feature's a domestic quarrel. The husband doesn't once your feelings shock, And doesn't give his wife (knock at door) a single knock; It's not a client gave the door that stout hit, At least, I'm very much inclient to doubt it. Come in . (opens door, R.) Enter George Tallboys, L., covered with travelling wrappers, furs, &c. George. (starting melo-dramatically) Ha, ha—'tis he, if I don't err! Robert. (aside—noticing his fur cloak) And who is this distinguished furry ner ? George. What, don't you recollect George Tall — Robert. (excitedly) Boys! Bless me! Is it my boyhood's friend that doth address me ? Embrace me . (they embrace) Sit down; tell us all about it. George. I was a villain, Robert ! Robert. I don't doubt it. George. I loved my wife: we had a beauteous boy ! His mother's hope, likewise his father's joy. I'd an allowance from my father, small. Robert. Your father ? George. The allowance; not at all What you'd expect. Therefore, it wasn't funny It should grow very short. Robert. The boy ? George. The money. I had a ring—our infant, food to bring— I pawned it. Robert. What, the infant ? George. No ; the ring. That fed us for a week; the furniture, then Went, stick by stick, our dinners to procure then. Then we'd to live upon our wits—don't grin— The consequence was we grew rather thin. Disgusted with the world, I went gold digging, And a most wonderful large nugget twigging, I got it soon out of it's earthy bed— A golden opportunity, I said. I shall, I uttered, as out forth I dug it, Embrace it. Robert. Yes, precisely, take an' ug it. George. The diggings that I took turned out good sorts, They'd first rate p'ints, and also splendid quartz. Robert. Then, you've come back with money? George. Money—lorts! Robert. Rich; let's embrace again. George. With all my heart. (they embrace) Robert. While you've a penny, George, we'll never part. George. I long to see my wife ; she little knows That I've come back. Robert. You've written, I suppose. George. Not lately, though I must admit I ought. (takes up the paper and sits) Robert. Well, I was going down to Audley Court, To see my uncle's new young wife. (seeing George start) Hulloa! George. (struck with something in the paper) Gone— gone ! good gracious! what a dreadful go-! Robert. Has something bit you, George ? George. Why did I marry ? O, bit you, George—see the o-bit-u-arry ! Robert. (reading from paper) Hum! Mr. Tallboys.—Bear up like a man. George. Well, I can't promise—I'll do what I can. Though we occasionally p'rhaps had rows, I'd always great affection for my spouse. My Lucy, Lucy, oh, come back again! My Lucy— Robert. Come on; we shall lose se train. (pulls him off with a jerk, L.

Scene Fourth.—Double Scene. On L. of stage, a Handsome Apartment; on R. of stage, exterior, showing the Lime-tree Walk; a practicable Well. Sir Michael Audley seated reading in the room, L. ; Phœbe, a tall, Pre-Raphaelite female, in sober grey dress, plain braided hair, and pale face, standing by the well, by which is seated Marks, whittling a stick— Picture. Sir M. (throwing aside his book, and coming down) I must admit I feel uncommon lonely ; Though I've been married just a few months only, I feel as if her ladyship was part Of my existence. When a tough old heart Grows tender once again, the passion's more Absorbing than when one is twenty-four ! Where is my Lucy ? (goes up) Marks. Don't you talk to me; Your mister-ess has got a mister-ee ! But tain't no mystery to us; cos, why ? We knows it— Phœbe. (in alarm) Luke, dear, would you have me die? Marks. No, not afore we're married ! Get more tin from her; You haven't had the walley of a pin from her. Say you're aware her husband has forsook her. Phœbe. Oh, Luke, dear, Luke, you are so fond of loocre. Marks. I wants a public house; I've seen one too, Up at Mount Stanning, as I think'll do. Phœbe. Don't whittle in that savage way—take care! Marks. I wants to be a licensed wittler there. I ain't a hurting you now, am I—eh ? Phœbe. Well, cut your stick; but in another way. Marks. Her ladyship's beneath our pair of thumbs! Phœbe. I hear her fairy footsteps; here she comes! (music. (Lady Audley bounds in the room with a little hat on, which she removes and shakes out her hair which is very abundant, and arranged in a profusion of little feathery curls) Sir M. My charming Lucy—you I do adore ! I hope, my pet, you've never loved before. Lady A. (aside, with a spasmodic smothered shriek) Oh, oh! now do I look as if I had ? Sir M. You know I'm old enough to be your dad! Lady A. 'Tis true, my hair is golden, thick, and frizzly ; Whilst yours,what there is of it's rather grizzly. 'Tis true, my eyes are bright as silver—Nickel's; Whilst yours cannot see well without spectickles! 'Tis true, my manners on the queenly border; Whilst yours are rather of the cobbler order ; But what are such disparities as these ? What, though you're somewhat shaky in the knees ; Take snuff at meals; tell anecdotes which bore; And after dinner drop asleep and snore ? You are my husband, and I love you dearly; Look at the pin-money you give me yearly— The carriages—the horses—oh, such spankers! My own account, at Mopus's, the bankers; "Mopus" OED sense 2 "A coin of snall valuel a halfpenny; a farthing; (in plural) money. My pet dogs, parrots, love birds, cockatoos, Squirrels, canaries; lots to me amuse. Oh, how she loves you, you dear nice old swell, you ; Poor Lady Audley; she can audley tell you! Sir M. Yet when I first proposed, my petsy wetsy Lady A. I said "Oh, go along with your barrow-netcy." I thought you didn't mean my hand to win ! (aside) Besides, I wasn't sure about the tin! Sir M. My nephew, Bob, is coming down to-day ; He's bringing an old friend, he writes to say; One Mr. Tallboys— Lady A. (with a shriek) No—unsay the word! Impossible—ridiculous—absurd. It can't be—shan't be. Madness and despair! Sir M. Good gracious! Mind, you're damaging your hair. Police! (rings bell) Enter Phœbe, L. Phœbe. My lady. Sir M. Water—quick—make haste! Exit Phœbe, L. Lady A. It's nothing—I'm a little tightly laced. There's not the laced cause for alarm—I'm better : (aside) If fortune wishes to defy me, let her. When things come to their worst they're sure to mend. Enter Servant, L. Servant. Hem—Mr. Robert Audley. Sir M. Hah! Servant. And friend. Enter Robert and Tallboys, L. Sir M. Dear Bob —your aunt. (they bow) Lady A. (curtseys) I'm proud to know you. Robert. Thankee. Lady A. But where is your acquaintance, Mr. Lankey ? Robert. Hem—Mr. Tallboys. Lady A. Well, it's all the same; As Shakespeare says, you know, "What's in a name?" "'Twas mine 'tis his," "to be or not to be." Robert. Tallboys, allow me—Lady Audley. George. Oh! (Lady Audley staggers and falls in Sir Michael's arms—George staggers out at back) Lady A. It's nothing—nothing—nothing. Oh, dear, no ! Luke and Phœbe re-enter, R. (aside) He lives; he recognises me—his sposa! One look's enough : he eyes her, and he knows her. I thought he'd died out at the diggings yonder— Oh ! why the diggins didn't he, I wonder. He might have died, and let his wife forget him ; But no, his nasty temper wouldn't let him. (turning round sharply) Leave me; I wish to be alone—yet stay— A chorus, p'rhaps, before you go away. Concerted Piece, Soldier's Chorus from Blanche de Nevers. Opera by Balfe and John Brougham, c. 1863 https://www.loc.gov/resource/music.musschatz-11300/?sp=3 Oh ! what is the cause, I wonder do, Of that sudden outbreak, rare ? There is no clue to help us to A solu—a solu-tion of all that 'ere; It's no very—very trifling thing, But it's something wrong— Yes, it's something wrong; Very—very irri-ta-ta-ting. Oh! what is the cause, &c. (Luke and PhŒbe run off, behind the well, R.— Sir Michael, Robert Audley, and Tallboys, L., leaving Lady Audley alone, C.) Lady A. Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere. If Tallboys stops in England, it's quite clear I can't; one of us must depart, you see ; And something tells me that it won't be me. I'll cool my fevered brain out in the grounds. (goes through door into Lime-tree Walk, turns to shut door—Tallboys has entered on the garden side) George. My wife! my wife, for twenty thousand pounds! Falsehood, thy name is woman. Lady A. George. (turn and stand gazing at each other) George. Yes, Lucy. Your tones are icy. Lady A. I see; what do you see ? George. I see my wife. Lady A. As was. George. As was—don't quiz. Lady A. I am not now so much your wife as his. You left me. George. Left ? well, perhaps that wasn't right. I certainly did take a trip one night As far as the Antipodes; but then I meant, of course, to soon return again. Lady A. How could I know what had of you become ? George. You surely got my letters ? Lady A. Only some. The only sum you sent me, by-the-bye. There I sat piping of my widowed eye In a most fearful state of poverty. As on my schooling pa'd paid some amount, My talents then I soon turned to account. George. Turned to account. I can't the fact forget That you turned also to a baronet. Lady A. I went out as a governess—a spinster, Clever, petite, and nothing known aginst her. Sir Michael married me, I know 'twas wrong, You'd gone a long way though. George. Oh, go along! Lady A. Pity your little Lucy. Oh, don't blame me. George. My little Lucy ? Pooh! It was big-amy. Your marriage with Sir Michael's null and void, His happiness must be at once destroyed. (going to pass her—she intercepts him) Lady A. What would you do ? He's old and shaky very And not allowed more than a glass of Sherry. 'Twould break his heart. George. You never thought of mine When in the Times you put that cruel line, And married this Sir Michael for his wealth. Lady A. But really in a shocking state of health. Oh ! leave me to my misery. George. I go Lady A. Thankee, I'm much obliged. George. To let folks know That Lady Audley's —— Lady A. What? George. A swindler—there! Lady A. George Tallboys, mark me, mark me—if you dare! You know my temper when it's roused is horrid; I feel that I'm becoming very florid, My temples throb and burn with heat that's torrid, And every vein's a swelling in my forrid. My 'ma and 'pa were both a little mad, And latent lunacy's in me, my lad. I feel I'm going cranky with my grief, And I've come out without a handkerchief. (singing) To-morrow it is St. Valentine's day, And nobody's coming to woo ; And all the words that he could say Was hoop de dooden doo. George. All's thrown away. I'll have no pity, none; I'll smoke a mild cigar here till you've done. (sits by well and smokes) Well, it don't draw well, though I'm seated by one; I beg your pardon, Lucy, will you try one. Lady A. What, will I try one—Ah, you little think, How much you try one— George. Anything to drink ? Lady A. Yes; down the well there's water. George. Just so; low. To make a rather venerable Joe: Talking of trying you, you little fury— You will be tried by —— Lady A. What ? George. A British jury. Lady A. (starting violently—clutching her hair) What—brought up to a Court ? George. Precisely so, You were not brought up to a Court, you know, And Audley Court is not your station. Lady A. Eh ? What is my station ? George. (comes down) Bow-street, I should say. Lady A. (coquettishly) How can you threaten Bow-street —what's the use ? Oh, don't say Bow to such a little goose ! (putting her arm round him) Can you to Lucy such unkind words say? George. (removing her arm) Thank you; you don't get round me in that way. Song. Lady A. You mark my words, George Tallboys, you'll be sorry that you spoke; The situation forces me to make an aged joke; To go away and leave your wife, to scamper off to sea, That act was very small of you, while mine was big o'me. Fol de rol, &c. You should remember you'd a wife at home across the sea And tip her now and then a line from the an-tip-her-des. But no—you left me here to starve, until I got so thin, There was nothing intervening 'twixt the bones and outer skin. Fol de rol, &c. A baronet he came and flopped upon his gouty knee, Says he, "My home's at your disposal if you'll marry me; My rheumatiz is not at my command—there are no cures. But though it's not at mine, my drawing room it is at yours Fol de rol, &c. Well, what was I to do, you know? I felt bewildered quite. Now there you needn't call out wrong.—I married him outright, And Audley Court is mine. Now tell me why I'm like— you ought— A half penny publication? 'Cos I'm the Mistress of the CourtPunning on "Mysteries of the Court of London", notorious penny blood begun by G.W.M. Reynolds in 1844. Fol de rol, &c. George. Good-bye. (going up) Lady A. One word. George. Beg pardon, did you call ? (pauses and leans against the windlass of the well) Lady A. (sidling up to him) I simply mean to say — George. Well, Lady A. Well, that's all. (she pulls out the spindle suddenly, and Tallboys, vanishes down the well) Ha—ha! my tortures, from this moment, end— That's the best way, I know, to drop a friend. Truth lies, they say, at bottom of a well, (Though by the way, truth lying seems a sell) And in that well my truthful history'll keep. George always bragged of being very deep; All's still! Like codfish when one buys a pound, In this case there's decidedly no sound. He's kicked the bucket in the well, it's clear. (she is leaning down, listening) Enter Robert Audley, L. U. E. Robert. Ah, Lady Audley, pray what do you here ? Lady A. (innocently) I don't hear anything at all. Robert. I mean What are you doing here? (aside) Her looks surprise me. Lady A. How very hard young Mr. Audley eyes me. Can he suspect ? (crosses,L. , and pulls out a sketch book, commences painting) Robert. (sitting on a camp stool, R.) My friend has vanished. Lady A. Vanished! Take a seat. I'll paint you. Robert. Paint! He's varnished I repeat. Lady A. What's that to do with me ? Look pleasant—try. Now shut your mouth—that's it—now mind your eye. Robert. Mind yours! Lady A. (starting) Ha, ha ! Robert. I've sought him high and low ; He's gone without observing that he'd go. He has been absent now —— Lady A. (aside) With fear I'm thrilled. Robert. Ten minutes—very odd—I think he's killed. Lady A. Isn't that jumping at conclusions, eh ? Robert. I am accustomed evidence to weigh; There's something in your manner—— Lady A. (rising and eyeing him malevolently) Robert Audley, You'll find you'll come to grief, sir, very shordly, If you attempt your legal tricks with me ; For any hints on your hints any tee, Will lock you up. My feelings don't you rile 'em, Or in an ace I'll send to an a-sy-lum, And have two doctors, who, whilst thus your bent is, Are safe to settle you're non compos mentis. Robert. If that meant is for threatening, I'm your man. Lady A. Then who can prove I'm guilty? Enter suddenly Luke Marks and Phœbe, R. U. E. Luke. Why, I can. I see you pitch him down. Lady A. What could be richer ? You can—ha, ha!—you can ! Luke. Ha, ha, you pitcher ! Lady A. What, Luke ? Luke. Just so, I was a looking on. Lady A. Away—get out—absquatulate—begone ! Robert. Call out Sir Michael. Lady A. (shrieking and falling on her knees) No ! Luke. Yes, do ; he ought To learn what rigs is played in Audley Court. (Pantomime rally—Robert, Lady Audley, Luke, and Phœbe) Enter Sir Michael, R. U. E. Sir M. What's this—what's this ? Robert. My aunt—my aunt! Sir M. Aunt what ? Robert. She arn't my aunt. Sir M. She are. Lady A. Am! Luke. Air! Phœbe. Is ! Robert. Not! Prepare yourself Sir Michael, for a blow. She were! Lady A. Was! Luke. Is ! Robert. A married woman. Sir M. No! Sir M. I won't—I shan't! Lady A. Can't! Robert. Aunt! Luke. Darn't! Sir M. Believe it—there ! Lucy, elucidate—you are — ? Lady A. I air. Sir M. This English is confusing—wait a bit. By gum ! I — Lady A. Yes, Bi-gum-my, that's just it. Concerted Piece, "The Kermesse Scene from Faust" Robert. That there young woman, sir's, taken you in. Sir M. Gracious me, what do I hear? What do I hear? Lady A. Whilst I'd a husband, sir, I married agin. Luke. Phœbe, lass, ever hear the likes of that theer ? Lady A. What a situation, This narration, There's no doubt is very true ; But be lenient If convenient, I'll be as penitent as any two. Sir M. Here's a go. Oh! yes, here's a go. With rage expire ! A man at my time of life ought to know Better than to marry a bit of a gal. Waltz, "Faust." Robert. It serves you right, sir, Oh! yes, quite, sir, For you might sir, Well have known, sir, Wealth alone, sir, Could have tempted this beauteous damsel. Lady A. Tra, la, la, &c. (waltzing solemnly round—stop at last note—pause) George Tallboys heard in the well singing the Choral March. I'm all alive, oh! I did survive, oh ! And I've climbed from below. All. Oh, gracious! oh, lawks ! oh, gracious! oh, gracious! (Lady A. falls into Sir Michael's arms—tableau —scene closed in)

Scene Fifth. —A Woody Landscape. Enter Lady Audley, L., paces the stage. Lady A. Two husbands, two, and at the same time too ! There are all sorts of things I ought to do; According to the story—Marks's Inn Burnt to the ground, by this hand, should have bin. But now its much too late, to have things righted, Or I should be delighted for to light it. Enter Robert Audley, R. 1 E. Robert, me of my liberty don't rob; I'm very miserable, so help me Bob. Robert. You'd better ask your help mates to do that, I've sent for the police, Lady A. Mind what you're at With misery, which luckless fate doth deal her, This belle's wrung hard, so don't send for a peeler. Duet—"Hop light, Loo." https://digital.librarycompany.org/islandora/object/digitool%3A46056 Robert. You'll a pair of handcuffs have upon your wrists, Which won't permit them to get loose, whichever way they twists. Lady A. Live on bread and water, that's miserable fare, Which bigamy is not the proper thing, I am aware. Robert. No light you'll have within your cell, No company but spiders. Lady A. Oh determination fell! Robert. And when the people come to look, the turnkeys all will tell, "That's Lady Audley, she as popped her husband down the well." Both. No light you'll, &c. Enter Fancy, R. 1 E. Fancy. There's not the slightest doubt it was a wicked thing to do, But isn't it delightful the whole thing isn't true; It's all a piece of fancy, and acquitted, ma'am, are you. Lady A. (with a caper) Oh, flip up in de skid a ma jink, and hoop-de-doo-den-doo, Oh, hoop-de-doo-den-doo, and fol-de-rol-de-ray. Robert. Fol de rol de riddle ol, Fancy. And too-ra-loo-ra-lay ; And now we put a climax to our little bit of play, Lady A. With my bootle 'ee umpty, doodle 'ee umpty, boodle 'ee umpty day. All. Oh, hoop-de-doo-den-doo, &c (at end of chorus each dances round, during which fog scene rises) Lady A. What's to be done now ? Fancy. Well, my magic aid Will have to help you out, I'm much afraid. Now that George Tallboys is restored, you know, Long explanations would be rather slow. Sing a finale—not to be thought mean, I'll back you up with a bright Christmas scene. Author. Well, but the piece we talked of —— Fancy. (to audience) Kindly say, If you'll, instead of the stock Christmas play, Accept what we have done—and if you will, Why, then, we'll keep it on our Christmas bill; Which bill for your acceptance then we proffer, And if you'll kindly smile upon the offer, Our only wish to please you will be gained, If your good word we have to-night obtained. Robert. Stay though, what's this ? Fancy. A fog, it can't offend, Pieces are often foggy at the end; And it enables them to sit behind The pretty closing scene, which you will find To be worth waiting for. (fog scene sinks) The fog disperses! Now for the climax with appropriate verses. Enter Luke, Phœbe and Tallboys, R.1 E., Sir Michael, L. 1 E.—scene changes to Land of Thistles. The Land of Thistles, Scotland, staunch and true, Oh ! this, the Land of Thistle —— Lady A. This'll do. (scene changes to Land of Shamrocks) Fancy. Ireland, that green isle where the shamrocks grow. Lady A. They pique themselves on their sham rocks, you know. (scene changes to Land of Roses) Robert. The Land of Roses, our own sunny clime, A welcome sight this chilly Christmas time. Finale—Crown Diamonds. Lady A. For now in fear Behold us here, Entreating you won't be severe; But make us glad, And say we add A trifle to your Christmas cheer. Fancy. Frown not on our efforts, pray, If you think our merit's slight; Come again another day, Don't condemn us here to-night. All. For now in fear, &c.

Printed by Thomas Scott, Warwick Court, Holborn.