Practice Book - Leland Powers
_Falstaff_.--What disease hast thou?
_Bullcalf_.--A terrible cold, sir, a cough, sir.
_Falstaff_.--Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will have
away with thy cold. Is here all?
_Shallow_.--Here is two more than your number. You must have but four
here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner.
_Falstaff_.--Come, I will go drink with you.
(_Exit Sir John and Justice Shallow_.)
_Bullcalf_.--(_Approaching Bardolph_.) Good Master Corporate
Bardolph, stand my friend; and here's four Harry ten shillings in French
crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I'd as lief be hanged, sir, as to go;
and yet for mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather because I am
unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my friends;
else, sir, I did not care, for my own part, so much.
_Bardolph_.--(_Pocketing the money_.) Go to; stand aside.
_Feeble_.--By my troth, I care not.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
* * * * *
A SCENE FROM DAVID COPPERFIELD.
AT THE LODGINGS OF MR. AND MRS. MICAWBER.
_Introduction_.--The scene opens in the lodgings of Mr. and Mrs.
Micawber. Mr. Micawber at this time is suffering under, what he terms, "A
temporary pressure of pecuniary liabilities," and is out looking for
something to turn up.
Mrs. Micawber is at home attending to the twins, one of which she is
holding in her arms, the other is in the cradle near by, and various of
the children are scattered about the floor.
Mrs. Micawber has been bothered all the morning by the calling of
creditors;--at last she exclaims, as she trots the babe in her arms:--
(_Mrs. Micawber_.) Well, I wonder how many more times they will be
calling! However, it's their fault. If Mr. Micawber's creditors won't give
him time, they must take the consequences. Oh! there is some one knocking
now! I believe that's Mr. Heep's knock. It _is_ Mr. Heep! Come in,
Mr. Heep. We are very glad to see you. Come right in.
_Heep_.--Is Mr. Micawber in?
_Mrs. Mic_.--No, Mr. Heep. Mr. Micawber has gone out. We make no
stranger of you, Mr. Heep, so I don't mind telling you Mr. Micawber's
affairs have reached a crisis. With the exception of a heel of Dutch
cheese, which is not adapted to the wants of a young family,--and
including the twins,--there is nothing to eat in the house.
_Heep_.--How dreadful! (_Aside_.) The very man for my purpose.
(_Explanation_. At this moment there is a noise heard on the landing.
Micawber himself rushes into the room, slamming the door behind him.)
_Micawber_.--(_Not seeing Heep_.) The clouds have gathered, the
storm has broken, and the thunderbolt has fallen on the devoted head of
Wilkins Micawber! Emma, my dear, the die is cast. All is over. Leave me in
my misery!
_Mrs. Mic_.--I'll never desert my Micawber!
_Mic_.--In the words of the immortal Plato, "It must be so, Cato!"
But no man is without a friend when he is possessed of courage and shaving
materials! Emma, my love, fetch me my razors! (_Recovers himself_)
sh--sh! We are not alone! (_Gayly_) Oh, Mr. Heep! Delighted to see
you, my young friend! Ah, my dear young attorney-general, in prospective,
if I had only known you when my troubles commenced, my creditors would
have been a great deal better managed than they were! You will pardon the
momentary laceration of a wounded spirit, made sensitive by a recent
collision with a minion of the law,--in short, with a ribald turncock
attached to the waterworks. Emma, my love, our supply of water has been
cut off. Hope has sunk beneath the horizon! Bring me a pint of laudanum!
_Heep_.--Mr. Micawber, would you be willing to tell me the amount of
your indebtedness?
_Mic_.--It is only a small matter for nutriment, beef, mutton, etc.,
some trifle, seven and six pence ha'penny.
_Heep_.--I'll pay it for you.
_Mic_.--My dear friend! You overpower me with obligation! Shall I
admit the officer? (_Turns and goes to the door, opens it_.) Enter
myrmidon! Hats off, in the presence of a solvent debtor and a lady.
(_Heeps pays the officer and dismisses him_.)
_Heep_.--Now, Mr. Micawber, I suppose you have no objection to
giving me your I.O.U. for the amount.
_Mic_.--Certainly not. I am always ready to put my name to any
species of negotiable paper, from twenty shillings upward. Excuse me,
Heep, I'll write it. (_Goes through motion of writing it on leaf of
memo, book. Tears it out and hands it to Heep_.) I suppose this is
renewable on the usual term?
_Heep_.--Better. You can work it out. I come to offer you the
position of clerk in my partner's office--the firm of Wickfield and
Heep.
_Mic_.--What! A clerk! Emma, my love, I believe I may have no
hesitation in saying something has at last turned up!
_Heep_.--You will excuse me, Mrs. Micawber, but I should like to
speak a few words to your husband in private.
_Mrs. Mic_.--Certainly! Wilkins, my love, go on and prosper!
_Mic_.--My dear, I shall endeavor to do so to an unlimited extent!
Ah, the sun has again risen--the clouds have passed--the sky is clear, and
another score may be begun at the butcher's.--Heep, precede me. Emma, my
love. _Au Revoir_.
(_A gallant bow to Mrs. Micawber_.)
* * * * *
A SCENE FROM DAVID COPPERFIELD.
CHARACTERS.
OLD FISHERMAN PEGGOTTY,
HAM PEGGOTTY,
DAVID COPPERFIELD.
_Introduction_.--The scene is the interior of the "Old Ark"; the time
is evening. The rain is falling outside, yet inside the old ark all is
snug and comfortable. The fire is burning brightly on the hearth, and
Mother Gummidge sits by it knitting. Ham has gone out to fetch little
Em'ly home from her work,--and the old fisherman sits smoking his
evening pipe by the table near the window. They are expecting Steerforth
and Copperfield in to spend the evening. Presently a knock is heard and
David enters. Old Peggotty gets up to greet him.
_Old Peg_.--Why! It's Mas'r Davy? Glad to see you, Mas'r Davy, you're
the first of the lot! Take off that cloak of yours if it's wet and draw
right up to the fire. Don't you mind Mawther Gummidge, Mas'r Davy; she's
a-thinkin' of the old 'un. She allers do be thinkin of the old 'un when
there's a storm a-comin' up, along of his havin' been drowned at sea.
Well, now, I must go and light up accordin' to custom. (_He lights a
candle and puts it on the table by the window_.) Theer we are! Theer we
are! A-lighted up accordin' to custom. Now, Mas'r Davy, you're a-wonderin'
what that little candle is for, ain't yer? Well, I'll tell yer. It's for
my little Em'ly. You see, the path ain't o'er light or cheerful arter
dark, so when I'm home here along the time that Little Em'ly comes home
from her work, I allers lights the little candle and puts it there on the
table in the winder, and it serves two purposes,--first, Em'ly sees it and
she says: "Theer's home," and likewise, "Theer's Uncle," fur if I ain't
here I never have no light showed. Theer! Now you're laughin' at me, Mas'r
Davy! You're a sayin' as how I'm a babby. Well, I don't know but I am.
(_Walks towards table_.) Not a babby to look at, but a babby to
consider on. A babby in the form of a Sea Porky-pine.
See the candle sparkle! I can hear it say--"Em'ly's lookin' at me! Little
Em'ly's comin'!" Right I am for here she is! (_He goes to the door to
meet her; the door opens and Ham comes staggering in_.)
_Ham_.--She's gone! Her that I'd a died fur, and will die fur even
now! She's gone!
_Peggotty_.--Gone!!
_Ham_.--Gone! She's run away! And think how she's run away when I
pray my good and gracious God to strike her down dead, sooner than let her
come to disgrace and shame.
_Peggotty_.--Em'ly gone! I'll not believe it. I must have
proof--proof.
_Ham_.--Read that writin'.
_Peggotty_.--No! I won't read that writin'--read it you, Mas'r Davy.
Slow, please. I don't know as I can understand.
_David_.--(_Reads_) "When you see this I shall be far away."
_Peggotty_.--Stop theer, Mas'r Davy! Stop theer! Fur away! My Little
Em'ly fur away! Well?
_David_.--(_Reads_) "Never to come back again unless he brings
me back a lady. Don't remember, Ham, that we were to be married, but try
to think of me as if I had died long ago, and was buried somewhere. My
last love and last tears for Uncle."
_Peggotty_.--Who's the man? What's his name? I want to know the man's
name.
_Ham_.--It warn't no fault of yours, Mas'r Davy, that I know.
_Peggotty_.--What! You don't mean his name's Steerforth, do you?
_Ham_.--Yes! His name is Steerforth, and he's a cursed villain!
_Peggotty_.--Where's my coat? Give me my coat! Help me on with it,
Mas'r Davy. Now bear a hand theer with my hat.
_David_.--Where are you going, Mr. Peggotty?
_Peggotty_.--I'm a goin' to seek fur my little Em'ly. First, I'm
going to stave in that theer boat and sink it where I'd a drownded him, as
I'm a living soul; if I'd a known what he had in him! I'd a drownded him,
and thought I was doin' right! Now I'm going to seek fur my Little Em'ly
throughout the wide wurrety!
* * * * *
A SCENE FROM THE SHAUGHRAUN.
_Introduction_.--This scene introduces the following
characters:--Conn, the Shaughraun, a reckless, devil-may-care,
true-hearted young vagabond, who is continually in a scrape from his
desire to help a friend and his love of fun; his mother, Mrs. O'Kelly; his
sweetheart, Moya Dolan, niece of the parish priest.
It is evening. Moya is alone in the kitchen. She has just put the kettle
on the fire when Mrs. O'Kelly, Conn's mother, enters.
_Mrs. O'K_.--Is it yourself, Moya? I've come to see if that vagabond
of mine has been around this way.
_Moya_.--Why should he be here, Mrs. O'Kelly? Hasn't he a home of his
own?
_Mrs. O'K_.--The Shebeen is his home when he is not in jail. His
father died o' drink, and Conn will go the same way.
_Moya_.--I thought your husband was drowned at sea?
_Mrs. O'K_.--And bless him, so he was.
_Moya_.--Well, that's a quare way o' dying o' drink.
_Mrs. O'K_.--The best of men he was, when he was sober--a betther
never drhawed the breath o' life.
_Moya_.--But you say he never was sober.
_Mrs. O'K_.--Niver! An' Conn takes afther him!
_Moya_.--Mother, I'm afeared I shall take afther Conn.
_Mrs. O'K_.--Heaven forbid, and purtect you agin him! You a good
dacent gurl, and desarve the best of husbands.
_Moya_.--Them's the only ones that gets the worst. More betoken
yoursilf, Mrs. O'Kelly.
_Mrs. O'K_.--Conn niver did an honest day's work in his life--but
dhrinkin' and fishin', an' shootin', an' sportin', and love-makin'.
_Moya_.--Sure, that's how the quality pass their lives.
_Mrs. O'K_.--That's it. A poor man that sports the sowl of a
gintleman is called a blackguard.
(_At this moment Conn appears in the doorway_.)
_Conn_.--(_At left_.) Some one is talkin' about me! Ah, Moya,
Darlin', come here. (_Business as if he reached out his hands to Moya as
he comes forward to meet her, and passes her over to his left so he seems
to stand in center between Moya on left and Mrs. O'Kelly on right_.)
Was the old Mother thryin' to make little o' me? Don't you belave a word
that comes out o' her! She's jealous o' me. (_Laughing as he shakes his
finger at his mother_.) Yes, ye are! You're chokin' wid it this very
minute! Oh, Moya darlin', she's jealous to see my two arms about ye. But
she's proud o' me. Oh, she's proud o' me as an old him that's got a duck
for a chicken. Howld your whist now Mother! Wipe your mouth and give me a
kiss.
_Mrs. O'K_.--Oh, Conn, what have you been afther? The polls have been
in the cabin today about ye. They say you stole Squire Foley's horse.
_Conn_.--Stole his horse! Sure the baste is safe and sound in his
paddock this minute.
_Mrs. O'K_.--But he says you stole it for the day to go huntin'?
_Conn_.--Well, here's a purty thing, for a horse to run away wid a
man's characther like this! Oh, Wurra! may I never die in sin, but this
was the way of it. I was standin' by owld Foley's gate, whin I heard the
cry of the hounds coming across the tail of the bog, an' there they wor,
my dear, spread out like the tail of a paycock, an' the finest dog fox ye
ever seen a sailin' ahead of thim up the boreen, and right across the
churchyard. It was enough to raise the inhabitints out of the ground!
Well, as I looked, who should come and put her head over the gate besoide
me but the Squire's brown mare, small blame to her. Divil a word I said to
her, nor she to me, for the hounds had lost their scent, we knew by their
yelp and whine as they hunted among the gravestones. When, whist! the fox
went by us. I leapt upon the gate, an' gave a shriek of a view-halloo to
the whip; in a minute the pack caught the scent again, an' the whole field
came roaring past.
The mare lost her head entoirely and tore at the gate. "Stop," says I, "ye
divil!" an' I slipt a taste of a rope over her head an' into her mouth.
Now mind the cunnin' of the baste, she was quiet in a minute. "Come home,
now," ses I. "aisy!" an' I threw my leg across her.
Be jabbers! No sooner was I on her back than--Whoo! Holy Rocket! she was
over the gate, an' tearin' afther the hounds loike mad. "Yoicks!" ses I;
"Come back you thafe of the world, where you takin' me to?" as she carried
me through the huntin' field, an' landed me by the soide of the masther of
the hounds, Squire Foley himself.
He turned the color of his leather breeches.
"Mother o'Moses!" ses he, "Is that Conn, the Shaughraun, on my brown
mare?"
"Bad luck to me!" ses I, "It's no one else!"
"You sthole my horse," ses the Squire.
"That's a lie!" ses I, "for it was your horse sthole me!"
_Moya_.--(_Laughing_.) And what did he say to that, Conn?
_Conn_.--I couldn't stop to hear, Moya, for just then we took a stone
wall together an' I left him behind in the ditch.
_Mrs. O'K_.--You'll get a month in jail for this.
_Conn_.--Well, it was worth it.
BOUCICAULT.