THE FATAL PIN.
A TRAGEDY.
Dramatis Personæ.
| Emily Heedless. | By either Miss Vesta Tilley or Mrs. Bernard Beere. |
| Peter Paragon. | Mr. Forbes Robertson or Mr. Arthur Roberts |
| |
| First and Second Bridesmaids. | Miss Maude Millett and Miss Annie Hughes. |
(only he mustn't sing "The Good Young Man who Died").
Scene.—Emily's Boudoir, sumptuously furnished with a screen and sofa, c. Door, r., leading to Emily's Bed-chamber. Door, l. Emily discovered in loose wrapper, and reclining in uncomfortable position on sofa.
Emily (dreamily). This day do I become the envied bride
Of Peter, justly surnamed Paragon;
And much I wonder what in me he found
(He, who Perfection so personifies)
That he could condescend an eye to cast
On faulty feather-headed Emily!
How solemn is the stillness all around me!
[A loud bang is heard behind screen.
Methought I heard the dropping of a pin!—
Perhaps I should arise and search for it....
Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself,
Since I am, by my settlements, to have
A handsome sum allowed for pin-money?
Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin,
I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner.
Go, then, and join the great majority
Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood—
My bliss is too supreme at such an hour
To heed such infidelities as thine.
[Falls into a happy reverie.
Enter First and Second Bridesmaids.
First and Second Bridesmaids. What, how now, Emily—not yet attired?
Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon!
[They hurry her off by r. door, just as Peter Paragon enters l. in bridal array. N.B.—The exigencies of the Drama are responsible for his making his appearance here, instead of waiting, as is more usual, at the church.
Peter (meditatively). The golden sands of my celibacy
Are running low—soon falls the final grain!
Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn.
My Emily is not without her faults
"Was not without them," I should rather say,
For during ten idyllic years of courtship,
By precept and example I have striven
To mould her to a helpmate fit for me.
Now, thank the Gods, my labours are complete.
She stands redeemed from all her giddiness!
[Here he steps upon the pin, and utters an exclamation.
Ha! What is this? I'm wounded ... agony!
With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed!
I'll summon help (with calm courage)—yet, stay, I would not dim
This nuptial day by any sombre cloud.
I'll bear this stroke alone—and now to probe
The full extent of my calamity.
[Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to be concealed by the screen from all but the audience, and proceeds to remove his boot.
Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin!
I must know more of this—for it is meet
Such criminal neglect should be exposed.
Severe shall be that house-maid's punishment
Who's proved to be responsible for this!—
But soft, I hear a step.
[Enter First and Second Bridesmaids, who hunt diligently upon the carpet without observing Peter's presence.
Emily's Voice (within). Oh, search, I pray you.
It must be there—my own ears heard it fall!
[Peter betrays growing uneasiness.
The Bridesmaids. Indeed, we fail to see it anywhere!
Emily (entering distractedly in bridal costume, with a large rent in her train).
You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help.
It must be found, or I am all undone!
In vain my cushion I have cut in two
'Twas void of all but stuffing ... Gracious Heavens,
To think that all my future bliss depends
On the evasive malice of a pin!
[Peter behind screen, starts violently.
Peter (aside). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart!
[Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his hand.
You seem in some excitement, Emily?
Emily (wildly). You, Peter!... tell me—have you found a pin?
Peter (with deadly calm). Unhappy girl—I have! (To Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile,
And should we need you, we will summon you.
[Exeunt Bridesmaids; Emily and Peter stand facing each other for some moments in dead silence.
The pin is found—for I have trodden on it,
And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life.
Speak, Emily, what is that maid's desert
Whose carelessness has led to this mishap?
Emily (in the desperate hope of shielding herself).
Why, should the fault he traced to any maid,
Instant dismissal shall be her reward,
With a month's wages paid in lieu of notice!
Peter (with a passionless severity).
From your own lips I judge you, Emily.
Did they not own just now that you had heard
The falling of a pin—yet heeded not?
Behold the outcome of your negligence!
[Extends his injured foot.
Emily. Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well!
Peter (coldly withdrawing foot). Keep your caresses till I ask for them.
My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet,
And by that disregarded pin is pricked
The iridescent bubble of Illusion!
Emily (slowly). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend.
Peter. Have patience and I will be plainer yet.
Mine is a complex nature, Emily;
Magnanimous, but still methodical.
An injury I freely can forgive,
Forget it (striking his chest), never! She who leaves about
Pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot,
Will surely plant a thorn within the side
Of him whose fate it is to be her husband!
Emily (dragging herself towards him on her knees). Have pity on me, Peter; I was mad!
Peter (with emotion). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul,
Who, for the sake of temporary ease,
Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine!
You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why?
Because, forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin!
Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin
Had served you to secure your gaping train,
Your self-respect—and Me.
Emily (wailing). What have I done?
Peter. I will not now reproach you, Emily,
Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole,
The pain of which increases momently.
I part from you in friendship, and in proof,
That fated instrument I leave with you
[Presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically.
Which the frail link between us twain has severed.
I can dispense with it, for in my cuff
[Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins'-heads is perceptible.
I carry others 'gainst a time of need.
My poor success in life I trace to this
That never yet I passed a pin unheeded.
Emily. And is that all you have to say to me?
Peter. I think so—save that I shall wish you well,
And pray that henceforth you may bear in mind
What vast importance lies in seeming trifles.
Emily (with a pale smile). Peter, your lesson is already learned,
For precious has this pin become for me,
Since by its aid I gain oblivion—thus! [Stabs herself.
Peter (coldly.) Nay, these are histrionics, Emily.
[Assists her to sofa.
Emily. I'd skill enough to find a vital spot.
Do not withdraw it yet—my time is short,
And I have much to say before I die.
(Faintly.) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone;
Give my canary chickweed now and then.
... I think there is no more—ah, one last word—
(Earnestly)—Warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake,
And then the pastrycook may take it back!
Peter (deeply moved). Would you had shown this thoughtfulness before! [Kneels by the sofa.
Emily. 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see
That I was never worthy of you, Peter.
Peter (gently). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now.
You did your best to be so, Emily!
Emily. A blessing on you for those generous words!
Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot?
Peter. The agony decidedly abates,
And I can almost bear a boot again.
Emily. Then I die happy!... Kiss me, Peter ... ah!
[Dies.
Peter. In peace she passed away. I'm glad of that,
Although that peace was purchased by a lie.
I shall not bear a boot for many days!
Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child,
Has paid the penalty of heedlessness!
[Curtain falls, whereupon, unless Mr. Punch is greatly mistaken, there will not be a dry eye in the house.
v.—BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE.
A MELODRAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE.
Suggested by "The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll," by the Misses Jane and Ann Taylor.
Dramatis Personæ.
| Blanchidine, Brunette. | } | By the celebrated Sisters Stilton, the Champion Duettists and Clog-Dancers. |
| Fanny Furbelow. | By Miss Sylvia Sealskin (by kind permission of the Gaiety Management). | |
| Frank Manly. | By Mr. Henry Neville. |
Scene—A sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens, between the Serpentine and Round Pond.
Enter Blanchidine and Brunette, with their arms thrown affectionately around one another. Blanchidine is carrying a large and expressionless wooden doll.
Duet and Step-dance.
Bl. Oh, I do adore Brunette! (Dances.) Tippity-tappity, tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap!
Br. Blanchidine's the sweetest pet! (Dances.) Tippity-tappity, &c.
Together. When the sun is high,
We come out to ply,
Nobody is nigh,
All is mirth and j'y!
With a pairosol,
We'll protect our doll,
Make a mossy bed
For her wooden head!
[Combination step-dance during which both watch their feet with an air of detached and slightly amused interest, as if they belonged to some other persons.
Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack;
clackity-clickity, clickity-clackity, clackity-clickity-clack! [Repeat ad. lib.
Bl. (apologetically to Audience). Her taste in dress is rather plain! (Dances.) Tippity-tappity, &c.
Br. (in pitying aside). It is a pity she's so vain! (Dances.) Tippity-tappity, &c.
Bl. 'Tis a shime to smoile,
But she's shocking stoyle,
It is quite a troyal,
Still—she mikes a foil!
Br. Often I've a job
To suppress a sob,
She is such a snob,
When she meets a nob!
[Step-dance as before.
[N.B.—In consideration of the well-known difficulty that most popular Variety-Artists experience in the metrical delivery of decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written as they will most probably be spoken.
Bl. (looking off with alarm). Why, here comes Fanny Furbelow, a new frock from Paris in!
She'll find me with Brunette—it's too embarrassing!
[Aside.
(To Brunette.) Brunette, my love, I know such a pretty game we'll play at—
Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at.
(The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend.)
And you shall take her there—(hypocritically)—you're such a friend!
Br. (with simplicity). Oh, yes, that will be splendid, Blanchidine,
And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!
[Blan. resigns the wooden doll to Brun., who skips off with it, l., as Fanny Furbelow enters r., carrying a magnificent wax doll.
Fanny (languidly). Ah, howdy do—isn't this heat too
frightful? And so you're quite alone?
Bl. (nervously.) Oh, quite—oh yes, I always am alone,
when there's nobody with me.
[This is a little specimen of the Lady's humorous "gag," at which she is justly considered a proficient.
Fanny (drawling). Delightful!
When I was wondering, only a little while ago,
If I should meet a creature that I know;
Allow me—my new doll, the Lady Minnie!
[Introducing doll.
Bl. (rapturously). Oh, what a perfect love!
Fanny.She ought to be—for a guinea!
Here, you may nurse her for a little while.
Be careful, for her frock's the latest style.
[Gives Blan. the wax doll.
She's the best wax, and has three changes of clothing—
For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing.
Bl. (hastily). Oh, so have I—they're not to be endured!
Re-enter Brunette with the wooden doll, which she tries to press upon Blanchidine, much to the latter's confusion.
Br. I've brought poor Timburina back, completely cured!
Why, aren't you pleased? Your face is looking so cloudy!
F. (haughtily). Is she a friend of yours—this little dowdy? [Slow music.
Bl. (after an internal struggle). Oh, no, what an idea!
Why, I don't even know her by name!
Some vulgar child ...
[Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel.
Br. (indignantly). Oh, what a horrid shame!
I see now why you sent us to the Serpentine!
Bl. (heartlessly). There's no occasion to flare up like turpentine.
Br. (ungrammatically). I'm not! Disown your doll, and thrust me, too, aside!
The one thing left for both of us is—suicide!
Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes—
(Bitterly.) Well, the Round Pond a handy place to perish is!
[Rushes off stage with wooden doll.
Bl. (making a feeble attempt to follow). Come back, Brunette; don't leave me thus, in charity!
F. (with contempt). Well, I'll be off—since you seem to prefer vulgarity.
Bl. No, stay—but—ah, she said—what if she meant it?
F. Not she! And, if she did, we can't prevent it.
Bl. (relieved). That's true—we'll play, and think no more about her.
F. (sarcastically). We may just manage to get on without her!
So come——(Perceives doll lying face upwards on path.)
You odious girl, what have you done?
Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun!
'Twas done on purpose—oh, you thing perfidious! [Stamps.
You knew she'd melt, and get completely hideous!
Don't answer me, Miss—I wish we'd never met.
You're only fit for persons like Brunette!
[Picks up doll, and exit in passion.
Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by Blanchidine, to Melodramatic Music.
Bl. Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not give now to have homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden-headed Timburina back again! She wouldn't melt in the sun.... Where are they now? Great Heavens! that threat—that rash resolve ... I remember all! 'Twas in the direction of the Pond they vanished. (Peeping anxiously between trees.) Are they still in sight? ... Yes, I see them? Brunette has reached the water's edge ... What is she purposing! Now she kneels on the rough gravel; she is making Timburina kneel too! How calm and resolute they both appear! (Shuddering.) I dare not look further—but ah, I must—I must!... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an instant in the bright sunlight: and now the ripples have closed, smiling, over her little black stockings!... Help!—save her, somebody!—help!... Joy! a gentleman has appeared on the scene—how handsome, how brave he looks! He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure he removes his coat—oh, don't trouble about folding it up!—and why, why remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost? Now, with many injunctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, who retires, overcome by emotion. And now—oh, gallant, heroic soul!—now he is sending his toy-terrier into the seething water! (Straining eagerly forward.) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out—he has reached the spot ... oh, he has passed it!—he is trying to catch a duck! Dog, dog, is this a time for pursuing ducks? At last he understands—he dives ... he brings up—agony! a small tin cup! Again ... this time, surely—what, only an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still the Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes—no, yes, it is Timburina! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes! But Brunette? Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom? Ha, she, too, is rescued—saved—ha-ha-ha!—saved, saved, saved!
[Swoons hysterically amid deafening applause.
Enter Frank Manly supporting Brunette, who carries Timburina.
Bl. (wildly). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette?
Br. Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even wet!
Frank (modestly). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty,
When in distress, is every hero's duty!
Bl. Brunette, forgive—I'm cured of all my folly!
Br. (heartily). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!
[Grand Trio and Step-dance, with "tippity-tappity," and "clickity-clack" refrain as finale.
vi.—COMING OF AGE.
Our present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate upon the Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race will tell in the long run, despite—but, on second thoughts, it does not quite prove that, though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental—at least, that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that Mr. Punch is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a democratic audience.