COSTUMES, MODERN.
Scene.—President’s Room. Chair, L. Table, C.
Enter Knockdown, L. Whipstock, R.
Knock. Whipstock, my boy, how goes the strike?
Whip. As well as could be expected. It’s evident we shall have to give in. Old Greenbax is still determined not to pay the advance asked for.
Knock. Won’t he? We’ll see about that. The strike has continued but eight days, and they have used up all means in their power to get conductors and drivers. I saw the seven o’clock car standing before the station, waiting for somebody to put it through. We have taken good care nobody shall be found; and I rather think this predicament will bring our worthy president to terms. There’s nothing like a little pluck, my boy.
Whip. Oh, yes; it’s all very well for you to talk, who have a chance at the pickings; but as for me, I’m pretty well played out; and if old Greenbax don’t come down soon, I shall, with a rush.
Knock. Nonsense! Never say die, my boy.
Whip. I don’t mean to; but if this thing continues much longer, Mrs. Whipstock will say it for me, emphasized with a broomstick. Halloo! here’s old Greenbax. Now for a breeze.
Enter Greenbax, R.
Green. (As he enters.) Trumps! Trumps! I say, where can that fellow be? Trumps! (Sees Knockdown and Whipstock.) Halloo! what are you doing here? Ready to go to work, hey!
Knock. Yes, sir, ready to go to work—at the advance prices.
Green. Hum! (To Whipstock.) And are you ready to drive?
Whip. Certainly—at the advance prices.
Green. (C.) Hum! Will you both serve us faithfully?
Whip and Knock. (Advancing eagerly on each side of him, and speaking quickly.) Oh, yes, sir; yes, indeed!
Green. At the advance prices? I’ll see you farther, first, and then I won’t. No, sir; we pay you too much now. Clear out, both of you. I don’t want you around here. Quit! Exit! Vamose!
Whip. Did you ever! The old curmudgeon! Exit R.
Knock. No, I never! The skinflint! Exit, R.
Green. (Seating himself at desk.) Here’s a pretty condition for the Broadaxe Horse Railroad to find itself placed in. A parcel of whipsnappers dictating to Horatio Greenbax, president of the corporation. Strike away, you scoundrels! You’ll find those who have the longest pockets can strike the hardest and stick the closest. (Enter Trumps, R.) Well, Trumps, what’s up now?
Trumps. We are, I should say. Here’s the seven o’clock car waiting for both driver and conductor, and none to be had.
Green. Then get new ones.
Trumps. It’s very well to say get new ones; but where to get them, is the question. Our discharged men have induced everybody in the neighborhood to refuse.
Green. They have, have they? (Voices heard outside shouting, “Halloo!” “Conductor!” “Time’s up!” “Halloo!” “Hurry up!” “Hurry up!”)
Trumps. There, you hear that; the passengers are impatient.
Green. Well, well; drive it yourself.
Trumps. I can’t do that; somebody must look after the company’s property. (Voices heard again impatiently shouting.)
Enter Hartshorn, L.
Harts. Mr. Pwesident, what is the meaning of this wow, and wiot, and wumpus? ’Pon my word, this is decidedly wulgaw; we shall be disgwaced with such an outwageous disturbance in fwont of our door—we shall, indeed.
Green. The fact is, Mr. Hartshorn, the company finds itself destitute of both drivers and conductors, in consequence of the strike.
Harts. Stwike! what a wevolution! You alawm me—you do, indeed.
Green. Well, don’t get frightened; you won’t be struck.
Harts. What’s to be done?
Green. Don’t know; unless you volunteer to drive that car down.
Harts. I volunteaw to dwive a paiw of vulgaw howses down Bwoadway, and one of these filthy caws too! I nevaw! The effluviaw fwom those cadavewous cweatures is howible! ’pon my word, howible! (Voices again.) There’s the wow again!
Enter Hardhead, R.
Hard. Where’s the president of this confounded road?
Green. I believe I have the honor to be its presiding officer.
Hard. Hey?
Green. I am he.
Hard. Hey? Speak louder; what are you mumbling about?
Green. (Very loud.) I am the presiding officer.
Hard. Coffee, sir? I didn’t say any thing about coffee. I’ve had my breakfast, and, if it hadn’t been for that infernal car, should have been down town before this.
Green. This old gent is a little hard of hearing.
Trumps. It hasn’t affected his vocal organs, anyhow.
Harts. Yaas; he’s got an impediment in his eaw.
Hard. What do you all stand there growling for? Why don’t you answer me?
Green. I am the person you want.
Hard. Hey?
Green. (Very loud.) I—am—the—President. (Lower.) Confound your picture!
Hard. Oh, you are; then you ought to be ashamed of yourself. What’s that car waiting for?
Green. Somebody to drive.
Hard. Hey?
Green. (Very loud and angrily.) Want somebody to drive.
Hard. Somebody’s wife? What business have you to keep a car waiting for somebody’s wife? I don’t ask you to wait for my wife—do I? Where’s your conductor?
Green. He’s on a strike.
Hard. Hey?
Green. (Very loud and excitedly, and flourishing his arms.) I tell you he’s indulging in a strike.
Hard. (Raising his cane.) Oh, that’s your little game, is it? You want to indulge in a strike! Well, indulge, then. Come on, you scoundrel; I’ll strike!
Green. No, no! (Dodging behind Hartshorn.) I don’t mean any thing of that kind. Keep off!
Harts. Good gwacious! what a tewible monstaw!
Hard. (To Hartshorn,)—Oh, you’ll have it—will you, Whiskers? You want a crusher—do you?
Harts. No, no; I don’t want a cwusher! (Dodges behind Greenbax.) I won’t have a cwusher!
Trumps. (Stepping before Hardhead, and speaking very loud.) Beg pardon, sir; but you misunderstand. Our drivers have struck for higher wages.
Hard. Oh, that’s it. Why didn’t he say so? (To Greenbax.) Well, what are you going to do about it? I must go down town at once.
Green. (Loud.) If you will be patient a few minutes, we will try to accommodate you.
Hard. Look here, Mr. —— (to Trumps), what is that individual’s name?
Trumps. Greenbax.
Hard. Look here, Mr. Beeswax; if you don’t hurry up that car, I’ll have you arrested as a swindler. (Voices outside again.)
Trumps. Come, Mr. Greenbax, something must be done at once.
Green. What can I do?
Trumps. Hire the men at the new prices.
Green. Never! I said I wouldn’t, and I won’t, if no cars run to-day.
Trumps. Very well, sir; I have done all I can do. (Exit.)
Hard. Are we going down to-day or not?
Green. I wish you was down where you belong, with all my heart. (Louder.) Very warm to-day, sir.
Hard. Hey?
Green. It’s very warm to-day.
Hard. Pay? I’ll pay you if you don’t start that car soon. (Goes up to table and sits.)
Green. O, pshaw! it’s no use talking to him. Well, Hartshorn, what’s to be done?
Harts. ’Pon my word, I don’t know. S’pose you dwive down yourself.
Green. Me? When I do, just inform me—will you? (Noise again outside.) Halloo! Who’s this?
Enter Finnegan, R.
Fin. Is the prisidint widin, I dunno?
Green. Well, I do. He is; and I am he.
Fin. Yer are—are yez? O, yer spalpeen! and it’s there ye are, thaif!
Green. Come, come; be a little more respectful.
Fin. Respictful, is it? By my sowl, and ain’t you the sarvant of the public? and ain’t I the public, bedad? What do yer mean by kaping me standing outside there squatting in a car, and waiting to be took to the arms of Biddy and the childers, afther I’ve fit, bled, and died for ould Ireland up in Can-a-dy, shure I’d like to know?
Hart. Good gwacious! what a fewocious foweigner!
Fin. And who the deuce are you, onyhow? You chatter like a monkey, and you look like a baboon! By my sowl, I believe you’re Barnum’s What Is It!
Green. Come, come; this won’t do.
Fin. Won’t it? and who’s to hinder, I’d like to know? Faith, do ye mind who I am? I’m a full-blooded Fenian; ready to sthrike for ould Ireland; and if that car don’t start soon, I’ll strike you, ye blackguard. (Flourishing his shillalah.)
Green. Come, come; be quiet. (Dodging behind Hartshorn.) Pacify him, Hartshorn.
Harts. Pacify him? Good gwacious! here’s another stwiker! Don’t flouwish that club in that mannaw. Gweenbax will talk to you. (Dodges behind Greenbax.)
Green. Put up that stick. You shall have a conveyance in five minutes.
Fin. Conveyance, is it? I want no conveyance. I want a car, and that quick.
Hard. (Starting up and shouting.) Is that car going or not?
Fin. Faith, here’s another belated gint. (To Greenbax.) Don’t yer hear the gintleman?
Green. Confound the gintleman, and the car too. Was ever a president in such a fix? Here’s another! Well, come on all at once.
(Enter Dan, R.)
Dan. Say! where’s the president of this here road? Say!
Hard. Is that car going?
Fin. Fetch on your conveyance, ould chap.
Green. One at a time, if you please. (To Dan.) I am the president. What do you want?
Dan. Well, say, old cove, what do yer mean by keepin’ folks waitin’ in this style, say?
Fin. Faith, ould gint, if yer don’t spake up, there’ll be “say” enough to dhrown ye.
Green. There’s a little delay on account of the strike.
Fin. Sthrike, is it? A sthrike, bedad! I’m on hand like a picked-up dinner. I sthruck a blow for ould Ireland in Can-a-dy, and then I sthruck for home; and, bedad, I’ll sthrike for any thing at all, at all.
Dan. I say, Pat, hush yer jaw; we’ll jest clean out this institution.
Fin. Faith, that we will. It’s a dirthy place onyhow.
Hart. Good gwacious! there’s going to be more stwiking!
Dan. Look here, Smellin’ Bottle! (Seizes Hartshorn by the collar, and brings him to the centre.)
Hart. Good gwacious! Welease my coat! You awe too polite—you awe indeed!
Dan. Am I? Jest look a here, Smellin’ Bottle! and you too, prez—look sharp! fur I’m a goin’ to talk to yer like a first-class sermon! I drives fur old Swizel, I does; and I kills fur Swizel too; and I’m goin down town in that car in five minutes! You understand?
Hard. (Shouting.) Is that car going, or is that car not going?
Dan. Say, old gent, you jest subside.
Hard. Hey?
Fin. Faith, the ould gint’s as dafe as a haddock. (Goes up to table and talks to Hardhead in dumb show.)
Dan. Now, prez, I want yer to understand I’m a goin’ down town; and I want a driver and a conductor.
Green. But I tell you there is a strike.
Dan. Yes; and there’ll be another very soon. Here, Smellin’ Bottle, I guess you can drive pretty well.
Harts. Good gwacious! Me? O, nevaw. I should be exhausted at once! I should indeed!
Dan. Then we’ll exhaust you. Come, heave ahead, and take the ribbons.
Harts. But, good gwacious! considaw; I should soil my dwess; I should indeed!
Dan. Well, we’ll fix that. Here, Pat.
Fin. (Coming down.) Here yer are, my darlint.
Dan. Bring some old clo’s in here from that next room—the dirtiest yer can find.
Harts. Good gwacious!
Fin. Faith, that I will. (Exit, R.)
Green. I protest against this proceeding. You are trespassing upon the premises of the Broadaxe Railroad.
Dan. Oh, simmer down, now; your turn will come soon.
(Enter Finnegan, R., with a couple of dirty old overcoats and a couple of shocking bad hats.)
Fin. Here you are.
Dan. Now, Smellin’ Bottle, jump into this. (Holding up the dirtiest overcoat.)
Harts. Good gwacious! what a howible coat! No, nevaw; twy the pwesident. (Dodges behind Greenbax.)
Dan. All right. (Seizes Greenbax.) Prez, jump in.
Green. No; I will submit to no such outrage. I am the president of this corporation.
Fin. Thin we’ll invist you wid this robe of office.
(Dan and Finnegan seize Greenbax, and thrust him into the coat.)
Green. Oh, you shall suffer for this!
Fin. We do, my darlint; now for your crown. (Claps hat on his head.) Ivery inch a king!
Dan. Now, then, for Smellin’ Bottle. (Seizes Hartshorn.)
Harts. Good gwacious! I’m innocent; I am indeed! I’m only a poor diwector.
Fin. Thin come here directly. (Seizes him, puts on coat and hat, he all the time protesting.)
Green. Oh, if there is any law, you shall suffer for this!
Hard. Is that car going?
Dan. Directly. We’ve procured a driver and conductor, and now we’re off. Come, Pat, lead off with the prez—I mean driver.
Fin. Faith, that I will.
Dan. And I’ll take Smellin’ Bottle. (They take Greenbax and Hartshorn by the arm, who struggle and protest.)
Green. (To Hardhead, who comes down.) This is an outrage. I call upon you to protect me.
Hard. Hey?
Harts. Yes, yes; pwotect me, pwotect me!
Hard. Hey?
Fin. Bedad! that ould gint is like a horse; he’s full of hay!
Dan. Now we’ll be down town in a jiffy. Come on.
Enter Trumps, R.
Trumps. What’s the meaning of this?
Dan. We’ve procured a conductor and a driver for the seven o’clock car.
Trumps. We don’t want them.
Dan. Yes; but we do.
Trumps. No; for the conductor and driver have come to terms; and if you’ll jump aboard, we’ll be off in a jiffy.
Green. Strike over?
Trumps. Entirely.
Harts. Good gwacious! that’s lucky!
Dan. You can bless your lucky stars, prez.
Green. I do; and if ever there’s another strike on this road, I’ll resign at once.
Fin. (To Hardhead.) Strike’s over!
Hard. Hey?
Fin. (Loud.) The strike’s over.
Hard. Anybody knocked down?
Dan. The conductors will attend to that part of the business.
Trumps. Come, gentlemen, jump on; can’t wait any longer.
Green. Jump on, gentlemen; the strike has concluded to our satisfaction; let us hope it has to the satisfaction of all who have taken this little trip with us on the Broadaxe Horse Railroad.
DISPOSITION OF CHARACTERS.
R. Trumps, Finnegan, Greenbax, Hartshorn, Dan, Hardhead, L.