MR. PUNCH'S MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS.
No. X.—TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.
Once more we draw upon our favourite source of inspiration—the poems of the Misses Taylor. The dramatist is serenely confident that the new London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired official is appointed, will highly approve of this little piece on account of the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to teach, amongst other useful lessons, that—as the poem on which it is founded puts it—"Fruit in lanes is seldom good"; also, that it is not always prudent to take a hint; again, that constructive murder is distinctly reprehensible, and should never be indulged in by persons who cannot control their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often be averted by the exercise of a little savoir vivre.
Characters.
Tommy and his Sister Jane (Taylorian Twins, and awful examples).
Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story, and slightly altered).
Old Farmer Copeer (skilled in the use of horse and cattle medicines).
Scene—A shady lane; on the right, a gate, leading to the farm; left, some bushes, covered with practicable scarlet berries.
Enter the Wicked Uncle, stealthily.
The W. U.
No peace of mind I e'er shall know again
Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane!
But—though a naughty—I'm a nervous nunky,
For downright felonies I feel too funky!
I'd hire assassins—but of late the villains
Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin's!
Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage
(Sympathetically) For two poor orphans who are under age!
So (as I'd give no more than half a guinea)
I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny.
Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter,
And can't make up my mind to risk a halter.
(Looking off). Ha, in the distance, Jane and little Tom I see!
These berries—(meditatingly)—why, it only needs diplomacy.
Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment!
[Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as Jane and Tom trip in, and regard him with innocent wonder.
Jane.
Uncle, what is the joke? why all this merriment?
The W. U. (in guilty confusion).
Not merriment, my loves—a trifling spasm—
Don't be alarmed—your Uncle often has 'em!
I'm feeling better than I did at first—
You're looking flushed, though not, I hope, with thirst?
[Insidiously.
Song, by the Wicked Uncle.
The sun is scorching overhead: the roads are dry and dusty;
And here are berries, ripe and red, refreshing when you're thusty!
They're hanging just within your reach, inviting you to clutch them!
But—as your Uncle—I beseech you won't attempt to touch them?
Tommy and Jane (dutifully).
We'll do whatever you beseech, and not attempt to touch them!
[Annoyance of W. U.
The W. U.
Temptation (so I've understood) a child, in order kept, shuns;
And fruit in lanes is seldom good (with several exceptions).
However freely you partake, it can't—as you are young—kill,
But should it cause a stomach-ache—well, don't you blame your Uncle!
Tommy and Jane.
No, should it cause a stomach-ache, we will not blame our Uncle!
The W. U. (aside).
They'll need no further personal assistance,
But take the bait when I am at a distance.
I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats,
(With sentiment) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets,
Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut!
[Stealing off.
Tommy.
What, Uncle, going?
The W. U. (with assumed jauntiness).
Just to get my hair cut!
[Goes.
Tommy (looking wistfully at the berries).
I say, they do look nice, Jane, such a lot too!
Jane (demurely).
Well, Tommy, Uncle never told us not to.
[Slow music; they gradually approach the berries, which they pick and eat with increasing relish, culminating in a dance of delight.
Duet—Tommy and Jane (with step-dance.)
Tommy (dancing, with his mouth full).
These berries ain't so bad—although they've far too much acidity.
Jane (ditto).
To me, their only drawback is a dash of insipidity.
Tommy (rudely).
But, all the same, you're wolfing 'em with wonderful avidity!
Jane (indignantly).
No, that I'm not, so there now!
Tommy (calmly).
But you are!
Jane.
And so are you!
[They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries—after which they gaze thoughtfully at each other.
Jane.
This fruit is most refreshing—but it's curious how it cloys on you!
Tommy (with anxiety).
I wonder why all appetite for dinner it destroys in you!
Jane.
Oh, Tommy, you are half afraid you've ate enough to poison you?
Tommy.
No, that I'm not—so there now! &c., &c.
[They dance as before.
Tommy.
Jane, is your palate parching up in horrible aridity?
Jane.
It is, and in my throat's a lump of singular solidity.
Tommy.
Then that is why you're dancing with such pokerlike rigidity.
[Refrain as before: they dance with decreasing spirit, and finally stop, and fan one another with their hats.
Jane.
I'm better now that on my brow there is a little breeziness.
Tommy.
My passing qualm is growing calm, and tightness turns to easiness.
Jane.
You seem to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness?
[Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance—but suddenly sit down side by side.
Jane (with a gasp).
I don't know what it is—but, oh, I do feel so peculiar!
Tommy (with a gulp).
I've tumults taking place within that I may say unruly are.
Jane.
Why, Tommy, you are turning green—you really and you truly are!
Tommy.
No, that I'm not, so there now!
Jane.
But you are!
Tommy.
And so are you!
[Melancholy music; to which Tommy and Jane, after a few convulsive movements, gradually become inanimate. Enter old Farmer Copeer from gate, carrying a large bottle labelled "Cattle Medicine."
Farmer C.
It's time I gave the old bay mare her drench.
[Stumbles over the children.
What's here? A lifeless lad!—and little wench!
Been eatin' berries—where did they get them idees?
For cows, when took so, I've the reg'lar remedies.
I'll try 'em here—and if their state the worse is,
Why, they shall have them balls I give my 'erses!
[Carries the bodies off just before the W. U. re-enters.
W. U.
The children—gone? yon bush of berries less full!
Hooray, my little stratagem's successful!
[Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C.
Farmer C.
Been looking for your little niece and nephew?
The W. U.
Yes, searching for them everywhere—
Farmer C. (ironically).
Oh, hev' you?
Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free, Sir.
The W. U. (falling on his knees).
I didn't poison them—it wasn't me, Sir!
Farmer C.
I thought as much—a constable I'll run for.
[Exit.
The W. U.
My wretched nerves again! this time I'm done for!
Well, though I'm trapped and useless all disguise is,
My case shall ne'er come on at the Assizes!
[Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the remaining berries, which produce an almost instantaneous effect. Re-enter Tom and Jane from gate, looking pale and limp. Terror of the Wicked Uncle as he turns and recognises them.
The W. U. (with tremulous politeness).
The shades of Jane and Tommy, I presume?
[Re-enter Farmer C.
Jane and Tommy (pointing to Farmer C.)
His Cattle Mixtures snatched us from the Tomb!
The W. U. (with a flicker of hope).
Why, then the selfsame drugs will ease my torments!
Farmer C. (chuckling.)
Too late! they've drunk the lot, the little vormints!
The W. U. (bitterly).
So out of life I must inglorious wriggle,
Pursued by Tommy's grin, and Jenny's giggle!
[Dies in great agony, while Tommy, Jane, and Farmer Copeer look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain falls.
