A Day Well Spent: A Farce, in One Act

by John Oxenford

HAR. A flight of steps, each one more imprudent than the last. And what awaits me on my descent?

CUT. Love, who will be your guide?

HAR. A pretty guide—he is blind himself.

CUT. True, but there is no resisting him. Love is a torrent—and his blindness is a cataract. Come, come! the banns have been put up for the last month, at Croydon Church—the ring is in my waistcoat pocket—I’ve appointed a father to give you away.

HAR. Father? I haven’t seen him.

CUT. Probably not, for though a father, he is not yet apparent. All is right;—away! fly! when they say love is blind, they only mean he closes his eyes to transgressions like ours.

(Exeunt, R.H.)

Enter BOLT and MIZZLE, smartly dressed, L.H.

BOLT. Well, here we are—out!

MIZ. Yes, out in our reckoning, may be.