PAWKINS. Yes; it is awkward!
WHITE. But we won’t flinch! Mr. De Windsor, I must say your society is not the most select. (pulls chair from under PAWKINS)
FERGUS. (crossing to L., and collaring PAWKINS) And now, you villain—you destwoyer of my domestic peace—what have you to say for yourself?
PAWKINS. Why, I cannot say nuffing, while you goes on choking me like that! (FERGUSON lets go) That’s better! Well, then, I didn’t have no thoughts about Mrs. Ferguson—Mrs. Ferguson don’t come up to my hideas of female beauty. (snaps his fingers) That for Mrs. Ferguson! If you will tear from me the secrets of my ’art, I com’d arter Jemima, Mrs. Ferguson’s young ’oman—there, now, ye knows all about it. I’ve told the truth, and I can shame—Ferguson!
THWAITES. (comes forward, L.) So, Mr. Pawkins, it was Mrs. Ferguson’s Jemima, was it? Are you aware, sir, that I pay my attentions in that quarter? Are you aware that I’m Thwaites?
PAWKINS. Are you, indeed?—who says you ain’t? There ain’t no advantage in being Thwaites, as I sees—I don’t want to be Thwaites. You’re one of them swells as takes out a young ’oman on a holiday, and grumbles at the expense all the blessed way there, and all the blessed way back;—you prefers the ha’penny boat to the penny, and you prefers walking to heither. Thwaites, you ain’t the favored man, so drop Miss Jemima;—I don’t say what I’ll do if you don’t—but just take an ’int, and drop Miss Jemima.
(AGATHA and DE WINDSOR come forward, R.)
AGATHA. (R.) Really, papa, this is an extremely vulgar scene, at our party.
DE W. (R. C.) Disgustingly so, my dear—but join the guests, and make the best of it. (AGATHA retires up)