COSTUMES.
| Wiggins. | —Eccentric gray wig, with cue, white necktie, crimson vest, dressing-gown, and slippers. |
| Greenbax. | —Long brown coat, gray wig, broad brimmed hat. |
| Aspen. | —Brown wig, nankeen pants and vest, dark coat, hat and cane. |
| Fingers. | —(Very short man.) Undress uniform. |
| Freedley, Quilldriver, and Easel. | —Modern costume. |
| Dennis. | —Red wig, white jacket, yellow vest, dark pants. |
Scene.—Wiggins’ Office. Table, C. Chairs, R. and L. of table. Entrances, R. and L. Letters and bottles on table.
Enter Wiggins, L.
Wiggins. I am a lucky man! I should like to know how many times an hour, by the most approved rules of computation, that sentence escapes my lips; to how many mirrors have I uttered those memorable words; how many sheets of paper have been devastated with that multum in parvo of sentences, I am a lucky man? Look at me, Waldimer Wiggins, seventh son of Waldimer Wiggins, the blacksmith, who was the seventh son of Wigglesworth Wiggins, the cooper. I, who have been knocked about the world like a shuttlecock, buffeted by everybody and everything; who never saw but one schoolhouse in all my life, and that from the outside,—here am I puzzling all the learned doctors, creating a frenzy among the apothecaries, and setting the whole town to taking medicine by the pint, quart, and even demijohn, and hauling greenbacks into my capacious pockets with an agility and velocity that would astonish the father of greenbacks. I am the lucky possessor of the greatest remedy of modern times,—a medicine that will cure anything and everything, anybody and everybody; and where there is nothing to cure, will make something, and then cure that. Men praise it, women dote on it, and children cry for it. I am the lucky possessor of this treasure, and yet I never received a diploma, or even amused myself with the graceful but rather monotonous exercise of the pestle and mortar. As I before suggested, it’s all luck. I’ll tell you all about it (seats himself familiarly before the audience). Like Byron, that beautiful but dyspeptic poet, “I had a dream.” It was one night after I had partaken of oysters. I generally indulge in a light supper before retiring. Upon this occasion it consisted of cold chicken, mince pie, pigs’ feet, and, as I before remarked, oysters. I had retired to my downy couch, when the following striking tableau was presented in a vision. I beheld the great Barnum, surrounded by greenbacks. On his right were the Albino woman and Joyce Heath, on his left, Tom Thumb and his Bride; while the “What is it?” a little elevated, was crowning the great showman with a wreath of posies. Of course my attention was first attracted to the free exhibition of curiosities, but after a careful examination of them, my eyes were fixed upon the great “Supporter of the Moral Drama,” by whom I was greeted with this characteristic original remark, “How are you, Wiggins?” to which I answered, as is customary in all polite circles, “How are you, Barnum?” “Wiggins,” said he, “do you want to make a fortune?” to which I responded, “I do.” “Then look in ‘The Daily Slungshot,’ outside, first column, top line, and obey the injunction there given.” I thanked the great man, signified to him that I thought him an immense individual, but that he could not keep “The Aquarial Gardens.” He pronounced my remark very of fish ous; and with this scaly joke, vanished. I awoke, purchased “The Slungshot,” sought the designated spot, and read this cabalistic word, “Advertise.” It was enough. I remembered a recipe an Indian woman had given me when a child. It was for curing corns. I resolved to make a fortune from that. Now everybody is not afflicted with corns; so, to have a striking effect on all diseases, I call my medicine “The Great Elixir,” and warrant it to cure everything. I might easily show you how all diseases are first taken into the system through the medium of corns, but as it would take some time to convince you, I will not make the attempt. Advertising has done the business for me, and now everybody is taking The Great Elixir and blessing the name of Waldimer Wiggins. (Rises, takes a seat at table R., and opens letters, making memorandums on each as read.) Now, here is a string of correspondents that would puzzle a regular physician, but which I, with my superior skill, can dispose of in a very few moments. (Reads.) Hm! an old lady has fits. (Mem.) Take The Elixir three times a day. (Reads.) An old gentleman with a bald head wants his hair to grow. (Mem.) Apply The Elixir externally and internally three times a day. (Enter Dennis, L.) Well, Dennis, what is it?
Dennis. Faith, I don’t know; there’s the kitchen fire don’t burn at tall, at tall, and there’s a gintleman wants to say the dochter.
Wiggins. Show the gentleman in here, and put “The Great Elixir” on the fire. If that wont make a blaze, then nothing will. (Exit, R., with letters.)
Dennis. Faith it’s an illigant man is the dochter. It’s the—the learning he has onyhow, and it’s the fine physic he makes. The Great Elixir. Put it in the fire? by my sowl, I will do that same; and—and in the blacking and in the soup. It’s meself that has a mind to take a wee dhrap meself, for the sthrong wakness I have for Judy Ryan. Bless her purty face! (Enter Charles Freedley, L.)
Charles. Did you tell Dr. Wiggins I wished to speak with him?
Dennis. Indade I did, sir, and he’ll say yez in a minute. (Exit, L.)
Charles. So this is the office of the Great Doctor. Great Fiddlesticks! He’s no more a doctor than I am, and he shall own it, too, before I’ve done with him. There’s my Aunt Hopkins, whose heir I expect to be, crazy about this Dr. Wiggins. Calls his “Great Elixir” delightful, and vows she will leave him a legacy. Now I have set my heart on possessing all the property of Aunt Hopkins, and have no idea of parting with it to such a humbug as this; and here I am on a voyage of discovery, which will, I hope, end in the unmasking of this quack. (Enter Wiggins, R., slowly, his eyes fastened on an open book in his hand.)
Wiggins. Why is the privacy of the Seventh Son of the Seventh Son thus intruded upon?
Charles. Privacy? Why, aint you a regular physician?
Wiggins. I am, very regular. My office hours are from 10 A. M. to 2 P. M. The balance of my time is devoted to the study of the human system; to poring over the open book of nature, or to gazing in quiet, tranquil solitude upon the sublime spectacles performed by stars of the first magnitude.
Charles. Oh! you mean at the theatres.
Wiggins. Theatres, sir! No, sir, the study of the heavens is enough for my inquiring mind. What want you with me?
Charles. I have a very painful malady.
Wiggins. What is it?
Charles. An itching sensation in my hand. (Aside.) Itching to get hold of you.
Wiggins. Let me look at it (offering to take it).
Charles (raising his arm quick, hits the doctor in the stomach). It hurts me when I raise it thus.
Wiggins (jumping back). Oh! confound you! Then why in the deuce do you raise it thus?
Charles. I want it cured.
Wiggins (looking very wise). Let me see. Mars in the seventh heaven, and Jupiter in an eclipse, Venus in a brown study, and Mercury in the blues. Young man, the stars tell me you can be cured.
Charles. Much obliged to the stars. How?
Wiggins (speaking very quick, as though repeating an old story). By a plentiful application of “The Great Elixir,” which will cure coughs, colds, burns, bruises, consumption, fits, fevers, earache, heartache, headache, toothache, corns, bunions, etc., etc. Whose virtues are known and appreciated from one end of the continent to the other. Prepared under the special directions of the stars, and sold by all respectable druggists at the low price of one dollar a bottle.
Charles (aside). Just as I thought, an ignorant quack. (Aloud.) I will procure a bottle, and give it a fair trial. (Aside.) I’d sooner take poison than his infernal stuff. (Exit, L.)
Wiggins. It is thus that science blesses her devotees with the glow of success. (Looking at watch.) 10 o’clock! We must prepare for the patients. Here, Dennis (Enter Dennis, L.), prepare the paraphernalia.
Dennis (puzzled). The what is it?
Wiggins. Prepare the paraphernalia.
Dennis. Yis, sir, directly (going, L.).
Wiggins. Where are you going?
Dennis. For the razor, sir.
Wiggins. Razor! What do you want of a razor?
Dennis. To pare your nails ouv course. You wouldn’t expect me to bring an axe.
Wiggins. Oh, pshaw! Set out the table and put the instruments upon it; it is time to receive patients.
Dennis. Oh, yis, sir. (Aside.) Why don’t he spake his mother tongue in the first place (sets table in C., takes from a drawer in the table a long carving-knife, a saw, and other instruments, places them upon the table. Wiggins seats himself at back of table pompously. Bell rings outside).
Wiggins. Our first patient. Show him in, Dennis.
Dennis. Yis, sir. (Exit, L.)
Wiggins. Talk about your colleges! What is the good of them while there’s newspapers to advertise in, and people with throats large enough to swallow anything. (Enter Dennis with Greenbax, L.) Hallo, who’s this?
Dennis. Here you are, sir; that’s the doctor; be quick, for he’s awful busy.
Greenbax. Dizzy! I should think so; it’s enough to make anybody dizzy climbing so many stairs. Where’s the doctor?
Dennis. There he is in his place!
Greenbax. Wrong place! Why didn’t you tell me so before?
Dennis. What a stupid ould man.
Wiggins (coming forward). Here’s a queer customer. What do you want?
Greenbax. Hey?
Wiggins. Do you want the doctor?
Greenbax. Of course I do (going).
Wiggins. Hold on, I am the doctor.
Greenbax. Hey?
Wiggins. I am the doctor.
Greenbax. Yes, yes, I want the doctor.
Wiggins (very loud). I am the doctor. Stupid!
Greenbax. No, no! Dr. Wiggins, not Dr. Stupid.
Wiggins (shouting). I am Dr. Wiggins. Who are you?
Greenbax (holding out his hand). Pretty well, I thank you; a little deafness for you to cure, that’s all.
Wiggins. How long have you been so?
Greenbax. Yes, it does look like snow, but I think it will turn to rain.
Wiggins. How long have you been in this condition?
Greenbax. Awful bad condition. I went over shoes in mud getting here.
Wiggins. Oh, pshaw! what’s to be done with him? (Still louder.) Does your deafness increase?
Greenbax. Hey?
Wiggins (shouting). Do you keep getting worse?
Greenbax. Oh, yes! I keep a horse,—fast one, too.
Wiggins. I am speaking about your ear.
Greenbax. Yes, I’ve had him about a year. He has the heaves a little.
Wiggins (shouting). I’m talking about you—you—you!
Greenbax. Me! oh, no! I never had the heaves.
Wiggins. Oh, dear, dear! what shall I do? (Shouting.) Have you ever tried The Elixir?
Greenbax. No, sir, I never do. The hostler he licks her sometimes.
Wiggins (desperately takes bottle from table). Here, take this three times a day.
Greenbax. Certainly, with pleasure. I’ll take it to Mr. Day. Go right by his house.
Wiggins (shouting). No, no; take it yourself.
Greenbax. Oh, yes; for my ear.
Wiggins. Apply it externally and internally.
Greenbax (looking at bottle). It does have an infernal look. Oh, I’ve tried this, it wont do. Must have something stronger,—something to shake me up.
Wiggins. I must try something else. What shall it be? I’ll mix something to warm him up. I will return in a moment. (Exit, R.)
Dennis. What an ould heathen! he’s as deaf as ould Mother Mullin’s cow, that was so deaf she couldn’t say straight. What’s the matter wid his ears? they’re long enough onyhow. (To Greenbax.) Servant, sir!
Greenbax. Hey?
Dennis. It’s a fine day, sir.
Greenbax. No. Nothing to give away. Go to the poorhouse.
Dennis. Poorhouse, is it, you thaif!
Wiggins (outside). Dennis!
Dennis. Coming, sir. Away wid yez, you deaf ould haddock. (Exit, R.)
Greenbax. So many beggars about. Strange the police will allow it. (Re-enter Dennis, R., with a phial.)
Dennis. I’m to give the deaf fellow, then, this bottle, and he’s to follow the directions. What’s that? (Reads label.) “To be well shaken before taken.” Faith, my boy, I’ll do that same for yez. (Seizing Greenbax and shaking him.) Ye’d have me go to the poorhouse, would yez?
Greenbax. Murder, murder!
Dennis (shaking him). Howl away, ye spalpeen. ’Twill help the circulation.
Greenbax. Murder, murder!
Dennis. Once more, ould man, and then ye’ll do.
Greenbax. Murder, help, murder! (Enter Wiggins, R.)
Wiggins. What are you doing, you scamp?
Dennis. Faith, obeying orders, to be sure. “To be well shaken before taken.”
Wiggins. You stupid blockhead! I meant the medicine, and not the patient.
Dennis. Oh, murder! I thought it was the ould man.
Wiggins (shouting). I’m sorry this happened; ’twas all a mistake.
Greenbax. Yes. It was a pretty good shake.
Wiggins. My man will be more careful in future. (Gives him phial.)
Greenbax. Shall I take this?
Wiggins. Yes, morning and night.
Greenbax. Oh, no! I wont get tight. I belong to the temperance society. Good-by. (Exit, L.)
Wiggins. There’s one disposed of. Who’s the next, Dennis?
Dennis. Mr. Aspen, the shaky gintleman.
Wiggins. Oh, yes! Show him in, Dennis. (Exit Dennis, L.) My nervous patient; we must shake him up a little. (Re-enter Dennis with Aspen, who is very nervous; drops first his hat, in picking that up drops his cane, and then his gloves (to be continued). Wiggins takes his seat at back of table. Dennis sits R. of table, and during the scene with Aspen flourishes the carving-knife, scrapes it on the table, etc., to frighten Aspen.)
Wiggins. Good-morning, Mr. Aspen. Take a seat. How do you feel this morning?
Aspen (sits L. of table). Oh, I don’t know, I guess—I think—I should say—I must be-er—kind-er—sort-er—I don’t know.
Dennis. Faith! He’s getting no better very fast.
Wiggins. A decided improvement. How much of the Elixir have you taken?
Aspen. Two dozen bottles.
Wiggins. Not enough. You must take a gross.
Dennis. Not enough. You must take a gross (flourishing knife).
Aspen (shaking). A gross? Oh, dear!
Wiggins. Perhaps a barrel.
Dennis. A barrel (flourishing knife).
Wiggins. Your nervous, bilious organization is completely prostrated by sudden and repeated attacks of dorrammomphia, and an enlargement of the ambigular excrescences in the influctions of the cornicopia.
Dennis. D’ye mind that now? (knife.)
Wiggins. You must continue the Elixir night and day, and in six or seven years you will be entirely cured.
Dennis. Yes, skewered (knife).
Aspen. But it makes me so horrid sick.
Wiggins. What if it does?
Dennis. What if it does? (knife.)
Aspen (rising). Well, no matter, I’ll take it. Take a barrel of that nasty stuff. Oh, dear! (Exit with Dennis, L.)
Wiggins. That is one of my best patients. With a little moral suasion, I shall be able to make him swallow a hogshead of the Elixir. (Enter Dennis, L.) Well, Dennis, who now?
Dennis. Major Fingers, sir. (Exit Dennis, L.)
Wiggins. Major Fingers! who the deuce is Major Fingers? It must be a military man. I’m afraid of those chaps. I’ll tell Dennis I can’t receive him. (Starts for door, L., and nearly upsets Major Fingers, who enters.) Excuse me, sir, I didn’t see you.
Major (fiercely). Didn’t see me, stupid, swords and bayonets! Is this the way you receive patients?
Wiggins. Excuse me, sir; but you are so diminutive.
Major. Diminutive, sir! Look at my face! look at that moustache! Is there anything diminutive about that? I’d have you know, sir, that I am the equal of any man, in intellect, sir.
Wiggins. I really beg your pardon. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?
Major. My name is Fingers. I called to see you about my wife.
Wiggins. Your wife? You mean your mother.
Major. Swords and bayonets! sir, what do you mean? My wife, I said. Didn’t you know I was married? I thought everybody knew it. Married in New York. Great eclat. Everybody turned out. Married in style, style. Yes, sir, style.
Wiggins (aside). What a young bantam.
Major. Now, sir, I have come to you on a very important matter. No listeners about, hey?
Wiggins. Not a soul.
Major. Then listen. When I was married I took a beautiful young lady of my own size. Perhaps you’d like to know the reason. I had been my own master so long that I could not bear to have a woman rule over me, so, although I have had many ladies at my feet, I waited until I met my “Vene.”
Wiggins. Your Vene?
Major. Yes, my “Vene,”—short for Lavinia, my wife.
Wiggins. Oh! I see. Short wife, short name.
Major (fiercely). Sir!
Wiggins. Oh, no offence intended.
Major. Well, sir, soon after my marriage, my “Vene” undertook to tell me, her lord and master, that if I stopped out after ten o’clock, she would turn the key on me. Think of that!
Wiggins. It’s outrageous.
Major. Now, sir, seeing the advertisement of your “Great Elixir,” I have called to see if it will do what it pretends,—a miracle,—and make a tall man of me.
Wiggins. Make a tall man of you? (Aside.) Here’s a job. What’s to be done? I must get him for a customer; he’s rich. (Aloud.) Yes, sir, the Elixir will cause you to grow right out of your boots. You shall see a specimen of its working. Dennis! (Enter Dennis, L.) Where’s Bob?
Dennis. Down-stairs, sir.
Wiggins. Send him up. (Dennis going.) And hark you, Dennis. (Whispers.)
Dennis. All right. I understand. (Exit, L.)
Wiggins. Be seated, major, and you shall see a specimen of the miraculous effects of the Elixir. (Enter Bob, with a long cloak on his shoulders and a fur cap on his head.) What are you doing in that rig? Do you think it is winter?
The Great Elixir.
Bob. Please, sir, I can’t help it. I’ve got the influendways awful, and I’m so cold.
Wiggins. I’ll soon warm you. (Takes bottle from the table.) Here, show this gentleman its power as a growing medicine. (Bob takes the medicine and grows.)[3]
Bob. Oh, dear! oh, dear! Stop me,—stop me! Give me air,—give me air! (Exit, L.)
Wiggins. Well, major, what do you say to that?
Major. It’s wonderful. But will it do the same for me?
Wiggins. Certainly it will.
Major. Then send a dozen bottles to my hotel, at once. Oh, “Vene,” “Vene,” you shall find I am the head of the family. (Struts out, L.)
Wiggins. That’s a queer case; first of the kind on my list. Hope it will prove a success. (Enter Dennis, L.)
Dennis. There’s two snobs want to see the doctor.
Wiggins. Snobs? Come, come, sir, a little more respect.
Dennis. Well, then, gents.
Wiggins. Bring them in, and I will see them in a moment. (Exit, R.)
Dennis (calling, L.). Hallo, you, this way. (Enter Harry and Herbert, L.) The doctor will see you in a jiffy. (Exit, L.)
Herbert. So, Harry, you have at last followed the fashion and been caught by the advertisement of a quack?
Harry. Not caught, as you imagine. The fact is, Herbert, I want something novel for my new play, and hearing this fellow pretends to be an astrologer, I want to know what he can tell me through the medium of the stars.
Herbert. Stars? I should think you were pretty well posted regarding them. By the way, what is the plot of your new piece?
Harry. About as usual. A man who possesses a secret, another who would go through fire and water to find it out.
Herbert. Blood and thunder school?
Harry. Rather. But my villain,—he’s a character,—he does the murder admirably.
Herbert. Murder! (Enter Wiggins, R.)
Wiggins. Murder! (Starts back and conceals himself, R.)
Harry. Listen. (In melodramatic style recites.) “He possesses the secret by which I might obtain gold! gold! gold! He keeps me from that secret. But I have him in my power. I am now beneath his roof. I know all the secret windings of the various passages, and at the dread hour of midnight I will steal to his apartment, and with my dagger over his head will shout in his ear, Blood! Blood! Blood! and bury it in his heart. Then the secret is mine and mine alone.” Sh! (Enter Wiggins, R.) The doctor.
Wiggins (aside). Oh, dear! I see it all. I’m a doomed man. It’s all up with me. But I must appear calm. (Trembles violently.) Wh-wh-wh-at d-d-d-o you w-w-want?
Harry. Are you the physician?
Wiggins. Yes. That is—no—no—oh! Blood! Blood! Blood!
Harry. Blood? I thought it was Wiggins.
Wiggins. It is. It is Wh-Wh-Wh-ig-ig-ins.
Harry. I have a nervous affection for which I wish to be doctored. A spasmodic moving of the arm at times.
Wiggins. Yes, I know. “At the dread hour of midnight.”
Harry. What shall I do for it?
Wiggins (fiercely). Go home, put your head in a basin of gruel—no—no; put a basin of gruel on your feet and—The dread hour of midnight! Oh! oh! (Sinks into a chair.)
Harry. Why, what’s the matter?
Wiggins (jumps up). Matter? Murder, robbery, cold steel! That’s what’s the matter. Go home; stay at home. Your disease is fatal if you stir from home for the next fourteen years, especially (aside) at the dread hour of midnight. (Sinks into chair.)
Harry. But the remedy, your great secret?
Wiggins (aside). There it is, my great secret (jumping up). Go home, I say. Do as I tell you, or your life isn’t worth a lucifer match.
Harry. This is a very queer doctor. Come, Herbert, let’s go. I will call again, when you are more calm and quiet. (Exit Harry and Herbert, L.)
Wiggins. Yes, I know, “at the dread hour of midnight.” What’s to be done? This sanguinary ruffian who is bound to obtain the secret of “The Great Elixir.” I always had an idea that I should be martyred for the knowledge I possess. I wish I was rid of the Great Elixir. Oh, Wigglesworth Wiggins, I wish you had been in the seventh heavens, ere you had made me the seventh son of a seventh son! (Enter Dennis, L., with lunch on a waiter.)
Dennis. Here’s your lunch, sir (places it on table).
Wiggins. Lunch! A pretty time to think of lunch. (Aside.) I must make a confidant of Dennis. Perhaps he can assist me. Dennis!
Dennis. Yes, sir.
Wiggins. What would you do to get hold of such a secret as that of the Great Elixir?
Dennis. Faith! I’d go through fire and water to get a hould of it.
Wiggins (aside). Oh, murder! Suppose he should forestall the ruffians! Would you shed blood, blood, blood?
Dennis. No, no, no, divil a hape.
Wiggins (aside). He can be trusted. Dennis, my life is in danger. Two ruffians are coming here at the dread hour of midnight, shout blood, blood, blood in my ear, and then murder me.
Dennis. Murder and Irish! An’ will they wake yez afterwards?
Wiggins. What’s to be done?
Dennis. Divil a bit do I know, onyhow. Fasthen the door.
Wiggins. But they know a secret entrance.
Dennis. Then fasthen the gate and throw the kay down the well.
Wiggins. No, no! (Fingers heard outside crying.) Who is that?
Dennis (going to door, L.) It’s Major Fingers in trouble. (Enter Major Fingers, L., rubbing his eyes and bawling. Exit Dennis, L.)
Major. Oh, dear! Doctor, what shall I do?—what shall I do? I went home and took a dose of your Great Elixir, and then, oh, dear! I was a goin’ to take another, when “Vene,” sh-sh-she took it away from me and th-th-threw it out of the window, and then boxed my ears. What shall I do?—what shall I do?
Wiggins. Do? Why, get a divorce.
Major. So I will, see if I don’t. I’ll never sleep, drink, eat— (spies doctor’s lunch on table). Hallo! what’s that? (Seizes lunch.) Cake, oh, my! (Stuffs it into his mouth.)
Wiggins. Come, come, sir, that’s my lunch.
Major. Can’t you allow me a little comfort after I’ve been abused by “Vene”? (Continues eating. Enter Dennis, L., hurriedly.)
Dennis. Oh, murder, murder! Here’s a row. Here’s a shindy. Doctor, you’re a dead man.
Wiggins. Oh, Lord! What’s the matter now?
Dennis. Mr. Freedley, who took the prescription this morning, took the Great Elixir, and then was took crazy intirely. He’s left his house, and his friends have jist been here after him.
Wiggins. Why here?
Dennis. Because he’s raving about the doctor, and swearing he’ll have his life.
Wiggins. Oh, horror! What’s to be done? Oh, that infernal Elixir!
Charles (outside, L.). Where is he? Where is the destroyer of my peace?
Wiggins. Here comes the madman. (Gets R. Dennis runs behind the table, seizing the carving-knife. Major Fingers crawls under the table with the lunch. Enter Charles, L., in pantaloons and white shirt, with a sheet draped about his body. A wreath of straw “à la King Lear” on his head, his face whitened.)
Charles (gesticulating wildly). There he is! Grinning demon, why do you defy me? (makes a dash at Wiggins, who escapes to L.)
Wiggins. Please, sir, I don’t know. I am an unfortunate man.
Charles. Liar! You have robbed me of that which time can never restore.
Dennis. Somebody’s stole his watch.
Charles. Villain, destroyer of my peace, vile caitiff, thou must die! I will have thy heart’s blood. (Makes another dash at Wiggins, who escapes to R.)
Wiggins. Here’s another wants blood, blood, blood!
Charles. Silence, demon! Where’s my wife?
Major. Oh, dear, me! where’s mine?
Charles. My wife, my wife, my wife!
Dennis. That’s three wives. That fellar’s a Mormon.
Charles (seizing Wiggins and dragging him to centre). Now, demon, I have thee in my grasp, and if ever you escape, it shall be with the everlasting curses of Black Ralph.
Wiggins (on his knees). Murder! He will strangle me.
Dennis. Watch! Watch!
Major. Barnum! Barnum!
Charles. Villain, confess your sins at once.
Wiggins. Please, Mr. Black Ralph, I haven’t got any.
Charles. ’Tis false! Confess yourself a vile impostor.
Wiggins. Well, well, I am.
Charles. Your Great Elixir is—
Wiggins. A humbug. (Enter Greenbax and Aspen, L.)
Charles. Repeat it before these gentlemen.
Wiggins. I am a humbug. My Elixir is a humbug, and everything is a humbug. Now let me go (rises).
Aspen. Have I been deceived? Oh, you villain!
Greenbax. What ails the doctor?
Dennis. His nerves are a little shaken.
Greenbax. No, no! I don’t want to be shaken.
Major. What! sha’n’t I be a tall man?
Dennis. Nary at all, at all.
Major. Wont “Vene” make me pay for this?
Charles. Now, Mr. Doctor, you can go (removing wreath). You see I have recovered my senses. I have exposed your quackery. I’ll give you three hours to leave town; if you are not gone then, I’ll hand you over to the police.
Wiggins (aside). What a fool I’ve been! (Enter Harry and Herbert, L.) There are the ruffians. Seize them! I charge those two individuals with a conspiracy to murder me at the dread hour of midnight. Blood! blood! blood!
Harry. Why, Charley, what does this mean?
Charles. That I have exposed a quack, and saved my Aunt Hopkins from making a fool of herself.
Wiggins. But I charge these villains with an attempt to murder me. Did you not a short time since, in this very room, concoct a vile plot to murder me at the dread hour of midnight?
Herbert. Ha, ha, ha! Harry, your new play has evidently made an impression on the doctor.
Wiggins. Play?
Harry. Yes, play. Waiting for you, I entertained my friend, here, with an extract from my new play. Would you like to hear it again?
Wiggins. No, I thank you. Fooled again. Here’s a pretty kettle of fish. The Great Elixir exploded and its great inventor obliged to leave town by rail or on a rail. What shall I do? Mr. Greenbax,—you like my Elixir; don’t you?
Greenbax. Hey?
Wiggins. You like my Elixir; don’t you?
Greenbax. Oh, yes, I use it in my house.
Wiggins. You hear that, gentlemen?
Charley. What for, Mr. Greenbax?
Greenbax. To kill rats. It’s a dead shot.
Wiggins. But you like it, Mr. Aspen?
Aspen (shaking). No, no, it’s villanous.
Dennis. Bedad, if it’s like you, it’s no great shakes.
Wiggins. Major, I can still depend upon you for a customer?
Major. Not much. “Vene” called you a quack.
Dennis. Faith, “Vene” ought to know, for she’s a duck herself.
Wiggins. All forsake me. “The Great Elixir” is doomed. No, it isn’t. (To audience.) Ladies and gentlemen, you have had a dose of it to-night; may I hope that you will recommend it. It may not perform all the wonderful cures it pretends. What medicine can? If it has pleased you, and you are inclined to take another dose, my purpose here is accomplished, and I shall still have great faith in the power of The Great Elixir.
R. Dennis, Fingers, Aspen, Wiggins, Herbert, Harry, Greenbax. L.
[3] This feat of growing is performed by a well-known trick. Bob’s cap is fastened to the cloak behind; he carries a long stick concealed beneath the cloak, one end of which is placed in the cap; after drinking, he turns his back, goes to the wall, and gradually raises the stick, of course raising the cap and cloak. Commencing at R. and going towards the L., raising and lowering the stick, bobbing here and there, it has the appearance of a growing man; when he reaches the door, L., he suddenly lowers it and exits. Should this be found too difficult to perform, the piece is so arranged as to admit of “cutting” by leaving out the characters of Major Fingers and Bob, of course, omitting all the “lines” of Wiggins and Dennis referring to this scene.