/ / 'i c ! '%Iauc, in one ^ct. * % '' jFirsi performed '^i the Prj^ess^s Theatre, Oxford-street^ LondonJ^on Tuesday, j^une 15th, 1847. i \ - \^ UNDER THE^IANAGEMENT OF J. M. M.-iDDOX, Esq. f CORRECTLY PRINTED FROM THE PROJIPT BOOK, WITH SXITS, KH- TRANCES, SCENERY, PROPERTIES, INCIDEiSTS, COPY OF ORIGINAL BILL, ETC., KTC. NEW- YORK: BERFORD & CO., 2 ASTOR HOUSE. 1848. COPY OF ORIGINAL BILL, As performed at the Princess's Theatre, Oxford-street. Princess's. Broadway. Col(Mel Vavasour Mr. Granby, Vafche. Sir Charles Vavasour (his nephew) Mr. Vining, Dawson. Matilda {xcife to Sir Charles) Miss (hooper, Telbin. Lady Beauchamp Miss Winstan'ey, Grace Feabody Miss E. Stanley, Watts. COSTUMES. Colonel — Dark blue military coat, cap, undtess military light trowsers, white waistcoat, black stock. Sir Charles — Biown frock coat, drab trowsers, dress waist- coat. Matilda — White satin robe, and muslin skirt. Lady Beauchamp — Black velvet dress, white satin tippet, embroidered and trimmed with ermine. Grace — Pink flowered tuck-up skirt, white quilted petti- coat, straw hat, shoes, and buckles. PROPERTIES. Garden seat under tree, l. h., close to the curtain ; bowl of salad, and knife, 2 e. l. h. ; purse for Colonel, and note book, with written paper in ; ladder, u. e. l. ; two torches, u. E. R. LADIES BE¥/ARE! Scene. — A Landscape, r. 1 e. Entrance to an elegant Lodge at the exiremity of a Park. Large stone bal- cony above door, supported by tioo projecting pillars, with trellis work, round lohich honeysuckles or vines are twisted. Practicable window, communicating with balcony.' The park wall forms a continuation from lodge up to back, diverging off' it. ii. 3 or 4 e- u. H. A Farm house ; at back the high road — church and houses of neighboring village in the distance, l. h., near the farm house door, a large tree, with seat ^ round the trunk. 3 e. l. 4 hedge of blackthorn or privet extending from door of farm half across the stage. ^Cnl. {without, \j, J.. L.) You stupid booby — to overtnra ^me within a quarter of a mile of the manor house, and on a road as smooth as a bowling-green, {entering from l. at back.) But there isn't a post-boy left who knovv3 his b isi- ness — the confounded railways have driven 'em all off the road, {retnrningup stage, looking off.) What is ihe fool after BOW? Trying to get the carriage up by himself {calling, and pointing to farm) Ask so ne of the fanner's people there to help you — you great calf I Take care of the port- manteau. Ill make the best of tny way to thi; manor house on foot, {convng djwn.) Let ine see — this, if I don't mistake, is the lodge at the exiremity of the park — and, by following the course of the wall, I shall reach Ihe principal entrance in five minutes —uii'es^, indeed, I could get through here, {indicating lodge door,) and mike a short cut across. {Lodge door opens ) Eh 1 egad the door opens. Enter Grace from Lodge, with letter in her hand— not seeing Colonel. 4 LADIES BEWARE. Grace, {at door of Lodge, as if to some one within.) Don't you be uneasy, Sir — the letter shall be delivered! Grace Peabody is no fool. Col. {advancing.) Hem — Miss Grace Peabody Grace. Eh ! bless my heart, here 's a gentleman knows my name, and I never saw him in my life before. Col. Isn't this the park and the manor house at which Sir Charles Vavasour resides? Grace. Sir Charles don't reside at the manor house, Sir. Col. What? Grace. Not now, Sir. Col. How long has he removed ? Graf e. Nearly a month. Sir. He lives in this lodge. Col. {to himself.) What a strange fancy ! Sir Charles enters from Lodge. Sir C. (to Grace, with impatience.) Well — why are you fitayiug gossipping there? (sees Colonel — crosses to him with joyful eagerness ) Ah, my dear uncle I Grace, (astonished ) His uncle ! Sir C. How delighted I am to see you once more ! {turn' ing to Grace.) Go — go— take the letter. Grace. Yes, Sir Charles — and 1 won't let the grass gi'ow wnder my feet, depend upon it. {Running off at hack, r. h. Col. Well, my dear boy, though my military duties have kept me from you for the last three months, and prevented my being present at your marriage, I have hurried here as soon as possible, you see, to congratulate you, and be intro- duced to my new niece. She is a charming creature, I hear. Sir C. {with embarrassment.) Oh yes — yes ! Col. Her mo'iher. Lady Beauchamp, was reckoned the handsomest woman of her day — a superb, haughty, proud style of beauty — vnth a character to match. Sir C. {quicldy.) Did you know her? Col. Intimately." I should have made her my wife, if it hadn't been for her passion for domineering and command- ing. Sir C. {with a sigh of conviction.) Ah, you did very right. Col. At all events, it isn't she whom you have married, but her daughter, who, everybody tells me, is all suavity and gentleness. Sir C. {with embarrassment.) Hem—- yes — and I love her — I ador© her. LADIES BEWARE. » Col. Oh, I could easily guess that, from the three and four pages of flaming panegyric, crowded with notes of ad- miration, which I used to receive from you by every post ; and to say the truth, Charles, it almost frightened me. Sir C. Frightened you ! why? Col. I've always had a horror of extremes. Sir C. Can a man love his wife too well? Col. Yes. Harkye — in domestic aSairs we should eco- nomize in everything — -even in the article of love — for ex- travagance is sure to exhaust the most abundant resources^, sooner or later. Sir C. Ah, my dear uncle, you reason like an old bach- elor ! Col. Say rather like a prudent fellow who takes care of the future. A man should begin as he intends to go on.. If, during the honeymoon, you're too complaisant^ too amiable, woe betide you — they'll persuade themselves that you always jought to continue as you've commenced ; and if you happen to fall off— (cGJifidentialli/) — \i you chsiUCf to show the slightest neglect, they exclaim, (imitating a female voice.) " Oh, how he is changed — he is quite an alter'd man — he loves me no longer !" Sir C. Do you think so ? Col. I'm sure of it. But, if yoiir system has succeeded, why, of course, we need say no more about the matter. So receive my warmest congratulations, my dear boy, and in- troduce me to your wife instanter. (going towards Lodge.) Well, why don't you come? Has your excessive love mad© you so jealous that she isn't to be seen — even by me? Sir C. (with embarrassment.) No, no, uncle. The fact is, I — I really hardly know how to tell you. I — I don't stay at the manor house — but here — in this lodge — ^^alone. Col. Alone ! Ah, during the day, I suppose — a sort of retreat for study — and giving audiences to your tenan+ry, and all that sort of thing. Sir C. No : during the night too. Col. What ! Sir C. (with heat.) My dear good uncle, you fancy that you have come here to behold a scene of conjugal felicity ; but, in short, my home is a perfect pandenionium, and I'm a miserable, wretched man. Col. You astonish me ! Heaven bless us, how did this happen ? Come, tell mo all about it. [Seating himself by tree, l. Sir C. (agitated— -seating himself beside Colonel.) Well^ 6 LADIES BEWARE. uncle, you know that I had been more than a year paying^ my addresses to Matilda before I married her, and that I adoi-ed her to distraction. When she became my wife, it seemed to me impossible that I cofild evince the happiness I felt, by too much tenderness and devotion. Col. {coolly, takivg a pinch of snuff.) Error the first! Sir C. Not so : for even her caprices rendered her a thousand limes more engaging hi my eyes, and it cost me nothing to give way to them ; on the contrary, in the em- pire she exercised over me, I foiuid an inexpresslbie charm — I was content to obey her — I v/as proud to become her slave. Col. (as before.) Error the second ! Sir C. Possibly ; but she was so handsome, and had so many enehant.inup ways, that Ah, uncle, yon don't know what it is to have a bpatitifiil yonng creature lean- ing over your shoulder, and half in smiles, half in su[)plica- tipn, whispering in your ear, instating a female's man- ner,) '•• Ah, if yon loved me, sir — if you loved me " Col. {continuing and imitaiivg female voice.) "You'd mnke yourself as extravagant and as absurd as I pleased." {Re'iuming natural tone) Error the third ! Sir C Now pray don't count any more, uncle, for you'll never get lo the end During the recond month, I began to perceive that iMatilda (whom, till then. I had believed to be perfection itself) had some — some few trifling faults. C')l. Of course I those v/hich you yourself had engendered. Sir C. And even the first time that I hazarded a slight difference of opinion, the very words that you made use of just now fell from her lips: " Ah, < "liarles," said she, " you love me no longer." " Not love you ?" exclaimed I ; " rather than think that, do what you please ; act as you will - order — command.'' Col. {Rising ) Ah, that settles the business. Anarchy complete ; government topsy-turvy. Sir C. And then her mother, with whom /was always in the wrong, came to pass a few days with us. CoZ.-The mother? — wor?e and worse. Sir C. After that we never had a peaceable moment; and at last, ashamed of my weakness, I resolved to seize on the first pretext, no matter what, for recovering my au- thority. Col. A good idea. Sir C A very bad one, uncle. We were invited to a bull at a neighbor's country-seat, where we should have LADIES BEWARE. met a certain young widow, a Lady Ossi^lton, of w^nt Matilda, thanks to the kind offices of my mother-in-law, had taken it into her head to be most causelessly Jealous. My wife refused to go, and absolutely forbid jne totgo too. Col. Just what you might have expectec" Sir. C. Bat I stood firm. Col. (with animation.) Bravo ! " f Sir C. {gaining animation.) I told her^ha^t would bo an act of marked disrespect if we were 6oiWto\efuse the invitation ; that she might do as she pleased, \\\xt that 1 should most certainly accept it, even if I went alone. Col. Better and better. . Sir C. Lady Beauchamp replied that I was a tyrant, who v/anted to murder her poor child. * Col. Strong wprds those. ^ Sir C. {warming with anger.) lipid her mainly not ta interfere betwixt husband and wife. \\ Col. I couldn't hiwe done K better mys6 Sir C. The nighPcamfe-V (with en^ggf^ I dressed — Col Good. , _l\ \U Sir C. Matilda didn't say a word a^i^| iu spite of myr- self her silqnce made me uneasy. 1\ Col. {turning his back.) Ah, you got faint-hearted. Sir C. No, indeed I did not ; and (he proof is, that as soon as the cloclt struck, I "^rose tb depart — upon which, Matilda, rushed to the window, threw it wide open, and coolly told me that if I stirred a step Col. (laughing.) She would throw herself out, I suppose. . Sir C Yes, uncle — yes, those were her very words; and before^! could [)revent her, (movement 0/ Colonel,) sha had done iti| and if, by a most providential chance, there hadn't happ^eued to be a wagon,, loaded with hay, stand- ing just beneath — there, (pointing -to the window balcony,) for it was at tl^at very window: — \ Col. (smilirl^g ironically.) A. wagon load of hay ! Ah, a\wagou load of hay upon which she fell? \Sir C. By the mercy of Providence, without hurting hei^self in the least. C^oZ. Oh, that's a very different thing. SmX^. (insisting.) No,no, uncle — it's just the same thing* CoZ.Mji^ell, perhaps it is j an idea flashed across me, that's all. Sir C. What idea? Col. Oh nothing, nothing ; I may be wrong. But nir matter, proceed with your story. s.-, LADIES BEWARE. Sir C Lady Beauchamp immediately took her daugh- ter to the maiior house. I went after them, but in vain ; my mo!her-ia-Iaw told me that from respect for the honor of her family, she should be silent as to what had passed, but. that the very sight of me v/ould be enough to kill her child j and that she forbid me even to attempt to see her again, unless I wished to be a second time her murderer. Col (coolly.) Well? J- Sir C Wei!, uncle, since that day, near a month ago, {with a deep b'igh.) I have never beheld my v/ife. Col. (cGolly.) That's no great cause for sorrow. Sir C. Yes it is ; for I'm dying to see her — Col. {as before.) No doubt. Sir 6'. And throvv myself at her lect, and ask her for- giveness. Col. (qnirJd'i/.) Halt there. I forbid that. She alone is to blame. li' she real!}" intended to kill herself — if for such a trifling matter she could coollyiuSict on a husband who adores her, the unceasing regret which must have fol- lowed the com.pletion of such an act, it were wholly un- pardonabie: but if, as I hope, this. dramatic scene was on- Jy intended to form a part of s, little comedy Sir C. (tDith indignation.) What ! can you for a mo- ment suspect Col. (coolly.) At my ago, my dear boy, one suspects everything ; just as, at yours, one believes everything. Enter Grace at hack, r. u. e. Sir C. (seeing her. Aside, loiiJi embarrassment.) Deuce take it, here comes Grace. Grace, (out of breath.) Oh dear, I've run myself out of breath. I shouldn't have been so long, Sir Charles, but I happened to meet Sir C. (making her signs to he silent.) Very well — ^very well — weM talk about that some other time. Col. Eh ! what, my pretty Miss Grace returned? Grace, (with gaiety ) Yes, sir ; but I'm not Miss Grace if you please. I'm Mrs, Grace — Mrs. Grace Peabody, Sir. I was married this very day twelvemouth — and we're going to celebrate it with a grand merry-m.aking. Col. (Good-humor edly) Bravo! that's right. — and with your kind leave, my dear Mrs. P., I'll drop in and take part in your festivities. Grace. Oh, we shall feel much honored, I am sure. Sir. All our relations will bo there. It was a party of them LADIES BEWARE. » that I met when I was carrying the letter to the manor house just now. Sir C. (loith impatience.) I told you to be silent. CoZ. Hollo— hollo— what is all this? A letter. Did yoa take a letter from my nephew to the manor house ? Grace. Yes, Sir. {seeing that Sir Charles makes signs to her to be silent.) Nay, where's the harm in it, Sir Charles. (To Colonel.) It was only a letter to his wife, Sir. Surely there's nothing to be ashamed of in that. Col. {crossing to Charles.) You have written to vour wife? Sir C. {half ashamed.) Y — yes, uncle. Col. {indignantly. ) To ask her forgiveness, as you told me just now ? Grace, (aside — astonished.) Is it possible ! Sir C {with firmness.) Hear rne, uncle. It is all very well for you to talk, but I love Matilda to distraction ; and since we've been separated, I havn't felt a moment's peace. I know you can't understand all this — still Col. As I never had the 7?2J5fortnne to be married, very possibly I can't. {To GJrace.) But let's see what sort of au answer you have got ? Grace. None at all from my lady, Sir. She wasn't alone — her mother was with her, and she took the note from me. Sir C. {with indignation.) Very pretty, upon my word. C'oZ. (To Sir Charles.) You see. Grace. I told her tbat it was a letter which Sir Charles had written to his icifc, aiid to no one else. Col. Very proper, Mrs. Peabody. Well? Grace. She never aiisv* ered a word to that ; but she looked at me, and she knitted her brows, and she scowled, and smiled with such contempt — iu a way that I never dared to look, or scowl, or smile at Mr. P. Sir C. {with impatience.) Well ? Grace. And then she sat herself down at a table, and scribbled away ; and at last she folded up the paper, and handed it to me, saying — " Give the poor madman this." So I put it in my pocket, and here it is. [Offering letter to Sir Charles. Col. {To Sir Charles.) W^ell, why don't you take it? Does her handwriting even make you tremble? Sir C. {hesitating.) No ; but I feel as if this letter con- tained my death doom. Col. {taking letter.) Your death doom ? Nonsense t 10 LADIES BEWARE. Allow me, then. Let's see in what style she addresses the *' poor madman" Grace. ( To herself.) The old gentleman seems to be afraid of nothing. Col. {overhearing her.) You are right, Mrs. P. {opens letter and reads.) " This is our ultimatum." Our ultima- tum {a pause — he looks at Sir Charles) "My daughter will only consent to receive you on one condition, viz., that you acknowledge your fault, return to the manor house, and make an ample apology both to me and to her." Sir C- {indignant) An apology to her? Grace, {with astonishment and indignation.) A husband make an apology to his wife ? Col. (reading.) " On these terms you may perhaps ob- tain forgiveness. This. I repeat, is our ultiraatum.^' — iSigued " Augusta Frederica Beauchamp." Grace. What, both their ultimatums? Sir C. (taking letter from Colonel and running thro' it.) I — I cannot believe it. Grace, {to herself.) That's rather too much of a good thing. Col. (To Sir Charles, w/w 75 reading letter.) Now you see what you have gained by the concession. This fresh humiliation is all owing to your submission of this morning. Grace. That's true. Cul. The more you give way, the more they exact. Grace. That" s very true. Col. And this ought to prove to you that the head of the house should alone have the power to command. Grace, (more animated ) Of course he should. Col. And should insist on being obeyed. Grace, {to herself, with great animation.) Certainly. The old gentleman is very right. {Recollecting herself To Colonel.) I beg you ten thousand pardons. Sir. [Sir Charles goes up and seats himself despairingly at tree, still looking at letter. Col. {smiling.) You think the old gentleman is right, do you, Mrs P. ? Grace. To be sure I do, Sir. Why, do you know, that in the first beginniug, I took just the same airs upon my- self. I wanted to have everything my own way, and Mr. P. seemed to be so much in love with mc, that I thought he'd never make any resistance ; but one day, " Mrs. P. — Btop," says he — " everybody about the farm obeys you, be- LADIES BEWARE. 11 cause you're mistress : but yon must obey me, because I'm the master, and the master is the strongest, the superior, Mrs P " (iDith conviction ) And he's very strong, he's very superior, is Mr P. ; so I hung dovva my head, and I reflecfed a minute, and I gave in. Sir C. (seated.) Indeed ! Grace. And we have been the happiest couple for miles round ever since. Col You are the most sensible women that I ever met in all my life, (turning to Sir Charles.) Now hark ye, nephew, if you'll consent to be guided entirely by me, I'll answer for it, that in a %'ery short time, your iionsehold shall in every respect resemble that of the admirable Mr. and Mrs. Peabody. Grace, (curtseying ) Oh, Sir, what an honor for us. Sir C. {with energy.) I'll do anylhing that you please, ray dear uncle, if you restore m.y Matilda to me. Col. I'll restore her to you gentle, affectionate, and more than that, obedient. (To Grace ) Now, Grace, go and give my best respects to your husband, and tell him I shall be proud of making his acquaintance ; for lie's a man .after my own heart — a man in-deed ! Grace (quickly ) Yes, Sir. Col. And get every thing ready for this merry-making of yours, Grace. Yes, S'r. Col. Let there be a right royal feast and a dance ; spare no expense, uncle will pay for all. Grace (goiiig tmoards door of farm.) Thankye, Sir. I'll clap the turkey and Ihe docks on the spit in a jiffey, and then I've only to v»'ash and dress my baby, and- Col. A baby ! have yon got a baby ? Grace. Oh yes. Sir, and so like his father! he's a supe- rior person, too — he's as strong as Mr P., a perfect little lion ! Oar friends have all come — I won't be long. Sir. [^Exit Grace throvghfarm door, i,. Col. Now, master Charles, 3'ou and I must have some further conversation. First, teil me how you have beeit passing your time for the last month ? Sir C. Alone, in this lodge. I have refused every invi- tation to visit in the neighborhood, and, although passion, ately fond of the chase, I this morning even declined going out with the Pvtchley hounds. Col. Why?' 12 LADIES BEWARE. ^ Sir C. Because the meet takes place in Lady Ossul- fton's park, and it might give Matilda, or rather her mother, room to talk. Col. Talk — let them taik. You shall go Sir C. Nay, uncle. Col. You have promised to place j^ourself under my guidance, and you shall jro, I tell you ; and before tJiat, you shall take a turn round the farm here. Sir C. Bat there's a feast — a jovial party. Col. So much the better. ' Sir C. And young girls dancing, most probably. Col: So much the better. Sir C. And for me to appear among them, and mix witli diem, at a moment like this, situated as I am witji Matilda. Col. Again, and again, and again, so much the better. Sir C. But lier mother. Col. 'Now do have confidence in me, and I'll answer for everything. ^^jS'ir C. (cJtanging Ids tone.) Egad, uncle, I begin to Imink that, after all, your idea may not be a bad one. Col. A had cue ? {looking toivards farm.) There, look, they arc all assembling — and by my faith they've got a couple of fiddlers among them. Sir C. {lolth increasing warmth.) And I don't see why I should pass all my life in Lady Beauchamp's leading strings. Col. Certainly not. She is not your wife. Sir C. I don't know why I shouldn't enjoy myself. Col. Nor I. Sir C. Then I'll a'ct as you advise. I'll do vvhatover you think best : there's my hand upon it. [Shakes htmds witli Colonel. Col. (shaking his hand varnily.) That's a line fellow. Sir C. I'll make myself happy. I'll have some fun. I'll go to the hunt. I'll join my tenants at the merry-making. Col. Bravo ! bravo ! bravissimo I Go — go — ^^join 'em at once, (pushing him off at door of farm.) Sing, dance, laugh, chuck t.he girls under the chin, kiss the pretty ones, and never fear but I'll bring you through, with drums beating, and colors flying ! [Exit Sir Charles during the foregoing into farvi, through door L. ii. So, thus far, all famously settled. Now I'll away to the manor house, and seek un interview with Lady Beauchainp. LADIES BEWARE. 13 {Going up, R. H.) Eh ! as I live, here slie comes, and the» young person with her is Matilda, no doubt. 1' faith she is Tery handsome. Lady Beauchamp and Matilda enter from hack, u. h. ; a servant in livery following them. They appear as if about to cross the stage and exit^ r. lu The: Colonel goes up and boics to them. Col. (bowing.) Lady Beauchamp, unless I'm greatly mistaken. Lady B. (stopping.) Ah ! Colonel Vavasour. Col. At your service. Lady B. (coming down.) We were just about to take a walk as far as the village. [She makes a sign to the .servant, who is at hack, to leave them. Servant bows and exits, l. h. Allow me to present my daughter Matilda to you. Colonel. Col. My charraiug nieca, (bowing ) Lady B. You will do us the honor, I hope, of making the manor house your home, as long as you remain in this neighborhood. Col. (laith affected melancholy.) Ah, I had promised myself that pleasure, madam ; but it is impossible to aban- don our relatives in the midst of misfortune, you know. I must share the exile of my poor nephew. Matil. Have you seen him ? Col. Alas, yes. Lady B. (with hauteur.) And he has told you? Col. (still with affected melancholy.) All, madam. Ho €ven gave me a sight of your " ultimaiuml'^ Lady B. (with hauteur.) He has been very much to blame, Colonel. Matil. Oh very much — very much. Col. (hypocritically.) I know : very — very — very much to blame indeed. Lady B. But after all, as he begs to be forgiven • Col. (quickly and energetically.) He does not merit for- giveness. No, madam, he does not merit it. I have made him feel that he is quite unworthy of your clemency, and he will implore it no longer. Matil. How, Colonel ? Col. Hq renounces it for ever. Lady B. But if, on the conditions proposed, we conde- scend to absolve him ? 14 LADIES BEWARE. Matil. (advancing.) Yes, if we condescend to— — Col. {interrupting — hypocritically) No, Lady Beau- champ ! No ! You have been too kind, too indulgent. Our fault has been very great, and we ought to be punished — we ought to expiate it. Matil. But he has been expiating it, uncle, for a wbol& month. Col. A month ? what is a month ? Matil. (with impatience ) I'm sure it is a very long iimo= indeed. Lady B. (To Matilda, GsffZe.) Silence ! 'authoritatively.) Col. {aside to himself) Bravo! the court doesn't agree as to the duration of the punishment, {aloud ) I will even go further, and say that, in atonement for such acts as Iio has committed, the repentance of a rvhole life would Matil. {interrupting) Oh, really, really — " [Huntsman's horn heard at a, distance. What is that? Col. {iD^th indifference ) Nothing — nothing worthy of attention. Only Sir Charles, going to join a party of fox- hunting friends at Lady Ossulton's. The Pytchley hounds are out to-day, and the meet takes place in her ladyship's park. Matil. I — I trust that he will not go. I desire that he — Col. {interrupting, vjith nonchalance.) They are now saddling his horse, 1 fancy {with a sigh.) And after all, poor fellow, he must have some way of diverting his melan- choly. - [ Country dance played by violins, behind, L. H. Grace, {behind, i.. n) Now, take your places, take your places — you there, Mr. P. Sir C. {without, L. H ) Up the middle and down again ;; then set to partners. . Col. Pay no attention to it. It is nothing. This is the anniversary of Mrs. Peabody's wedding-day, they tell me. Matil. My old playmate and waiting maid. Col. Sir Charles is obliged, of course, to open the dance with her. Matil. He — dancing? Col. All to divert his melancholy. Matil. {very vexed and agitated ) Upon my word • Lady B. {with indignation.) With a parcel of low peo- ple. To use the mildest term, it is really most undignified. Sir C. {without.) I give you the health of Mr. and Mrs* P. ; long may they live, and happy may they be. LADIES BEWARE. 15 Col {going up and looking off, l. h.) Hark ! that's his voice Sir C. (without.) Now I'll give you another toast. Here's to all well-governed households ! [Shouts without of" Long live Sir Charles .'" Col- (looking off, l, n.) Yes, I see him ; there he is in the centre of them. Lady B. (looking off, L. n.) Drinking with Mr. Peabody. How disgraceful ! Matil. (the satne.) Eh ! why, can I believe my eyes? he is kissing Grace. [She makes a step or two towards the farm. Col Yes ; it is only to divert his melancholy. Lady B. (who has seized MedWda.'' a hand.) My child! what are you about to do ? Matil. Confront and shame him. Lady B (in a loio voice, trembling with rage.) Think of your dignity — don't degrade yourself. Let us leave this "ifc, and he'll do vrliatcver /wish." Matil. Wei!, really Lady B. [without in anger.] But I tell yoit, Mr. Pea- body Matil. Hark, there's my mollier ; not a word before her ! [She .goes up and ssats herself under a tree. Lady B. [without.] I tell yon, sir, that such behaviour is positively indecent. Lady Beauchamp appears at door of farm ; Grace goes hurriedly to her. Grace, [as shf goes tov)ards her, taking up basket of sa- lad, ^c] My poor husband. 22 LADIES BEWARE. [She talks with Lady B. as if trying to appease her. Sir Charles enters from lodge, unseen. Sir C. No, uncle, I will not sign it. Ah ! my wife. [He is about to accost her — sees Lady B., whose back is turned. Lady Beauchamp here too ! I'll wait a few moments. [He retires to portico of lodge, and stands behind one: of the pillars ivkicJi sustains the balcony. Lady B. [to Grace.] You say that you had permission — who gave it, pray ? Grace. Sir Charles himself, my lady. Wasn't it, hus- band ? [As if speaking to her husband — she exits into farm through door, l., v)ith basket, SfC. Lady B. [as if to them through door l., angrily.] Oh ! my son-in-law allows you to anmse yourselves in this way, does he ? Well, I forbid it. [*S'/;e comes doton. Matil. [ivho has been listeni7io; to the conversation, ii. H.] Yet, mamma, my husband, you know, is master Lady B. Of what ? of this fartn, which formed a part of your dovjry, and which we gave him ! Matil. Exactly so ; and as we have j^iven it, why cer- tainly it is his propertj^ LadyB. Then, i suppose, as yon gave 7/oMr.§cZ/ to him, you'll say you're his property tod l Absurd ! M'ltil. But in your absence, mamma, Colonel Vavasour, whom I chanced to meet, has mj&ie some advances on the part of his nephew. Lady B. [Irlumphanthj.] Didn't I tell you it would come to that ? Mitil. [ejnbarrassed.] Yes, ye:v, you did. And he came to .beg of me — ^just to write Sir Charles — a little — sort of affectionate isoto. LadyB. Well? Matil. [as before ] And he only — required — an expres- sion of — regret. No, no, merely an excuse for Lady B. [indignantly ] Regrets — excuses — and you have listened to such proposals ? You have Mitil [quickly.] No, no, mamma. I refused — I refused, most decidedly. Lady B. [embracing Matildd.] That's my own true dar. ling child. LADIES BEVVARE. 23 Sir C. [behind pillar, aside.] Ah, the old cockatrice ! Lady B. To think us capable of such a weakness, when he very nearly caused your death. Mztil. [hesitating.] Well, as to that, mamma, to confess the truth to you, my life never was in the least danger. Sir C. [aside ] What says she ? Lady B [astonished.] Not in danger ; but unless the wagon of hay had been there, you would have killed your- self to a certainty Matil. Yes, mamma, perhaps I should. But — I knew it -was there before I threw myself out. Sir C. [aside ] W^hat do I hear ? Lady B. [regarding Matilda with admiration.] You knew — excellent, excellent ; you are my child indeed. *f [Embracing her. ■ Sir C. [aside] She knew it ! and for a Avhole month she has left me to believe I'll sign anything my uncle pleases. [He exits unseen into lodge, r. Matil. So you see, after all, he is not so very culpable ! Lady B He believes he is, and that's just the same thing! I shall never be contented till I see him kneeling at your feet, to ask for pardon. Matil. Bat suppose he won't. Suppose he is as obstinate on his side as w^are on ours. Lady B. Then I've a plan in my head which will force him to do it, and this old Colonel Vavasour too — whom I shrewdly suspect has been urging his nephew on to resist us ! Matil. [incredulously.] He ! oh, no, no, mamma. Lady B. Hark, some one comes ! Enter Colonei. fro7n lodge. Lady B. and Matilda retire up L. H. Col. [as if to Sir Charles in lodge, as he enters] Do b© patient ; all shall be ready by to night, or to-morrow morn- ing at farthest. It can't take long to repau' the carriage, and I'll go to the farm, and [Sees Grace, who enters from farm. * Ah! Mrs. P.; has mv travelling carriage been got out of the ditch? Grace. Oh, yes. Colonel, a long time ago. Mr. Peabody helped 'em, and he's so strong. Col. I know, I know. 24 LADIES BEWARK. Grace. And there's no damage done to it. Col Then we can be off at once ! Grace. You, Colonel ? Col- Me and my nephew, Matil \ [^^^'^^c^^g"-] Your nephew? Col. Ah ! pardon me, ladies, are you here? Matil. Yes, uncle, and we heard you speaking of — your departure. Col. Yes: Sir Charles is so low-spirited, poor fellow. Change of scene is the only thing for him; so we're going to make a tour in company with some friends of his — Lord and Lady Mordaunt, and the Ossultons ! Matil. [eagerly.] Lady Ossulton ? Col. [coolly ] Oh, of course. We take the packet Havre, thence to Paris, Marseilles, Leghorn, Italy, Gree and Coustantinoplei Matil. Constantinople ! That dreadful place where the have so many wives. [Lady B. checks her. To Colonel,] And you, uncle, did you not try to dissuade him ? Col. I had no power. You declined his former proposals, you know, and now he's worse than ever ; he demands things — absurd things — unheard -of things — conditions that Lady B. Cox\^\i\onsio 718 ! Col. Conditions quite inadmissible — inexecutahle condi- tions ! I told him so myself ; and, although he has charged me to hand them over to you, I — 1 really dare not take such a liberty I Lady B. [vrlth hauteur.] And you are right, sir ! Matil. Doubtless ; but we may as well know v/hat they are ! Col. No, no, my dear niece, I advise you not. ■ MatU. V/herefore? Col. [taking a fa'per from his pocket and vapouring with it during ihefolloiinng.s-peech, so that Matilda is unable to get hold of it.] Lady Beauchamp's ultimatnm might be severe, but this — this — your husband's — is really extrava- gant ; it out-FIerod's Herod. Matil. [o,t length catching hold of paper.] No matter — let's see ! 'Lady B. [snatching paper from Matilda.] No, not you ; I will read it ! Matil. [ To Colonel, in a low tone.] Is it, then, so very terrible ? le^F LADIES BEWARE. 25 Col. Oh. outrageous ! and he'll hear of nothing less ; he'll accept no other means of reconciliation ! Matil. [with emotion.] Reconciliation! he Joes speak of tliat, then I LaclyB. IwiiJi a subdued scream. GTa.ce goeS behind to her, L.] Ah, I suffocate ! I shall faint! Grace. Dear, dear, what is it ? Matil. Speak, mamma, for mercy's sake ! Lady B. [u^ho has sun'c on seat beneath tree.] " Outra- geous !" It is diabolical .' Col. I told you that you had better not look at it. Lady B. [reading, almost choked xcith rage.] " I shall be happy to see you, and press you once uiore to my heart !'' Matil. [with emoiion.] Weil, there's nothing: diabolical in that ! LadyB. [reading.] " i shall be glad to rcceivo a'ou in. this, oiu- own private apartment !" Matil. Vv'gII? Lady B. " Where 1 have so long lived alone I" Matil. Poor fellow ! Lady B. " Bat it v.'^as through the window that you de. farted /" . , Matil. [iciih impatience ] Go on, go on, raanima. LadyB. '' It is through the windovj " Matil. Pray fiuish I Col. [coolly, taking a pinch of snuff.] '•'That you must RETURN I" Matil. Oh, heaven I Grace, [laughing, to Lady B., iclio seems quite over- whelmed.] He wants my lady to go in through that win- dow ! How droll, isn't he, ma'atn / Lady B. (with hauteur.) What I [Grace shrinks back, and retires alarmed and re- spectfully. Lady B. rises. Most infamous proposition ! Col. I told you so, but you would insist on knowing it. Lady B. And do you believe Col. Not at all ! And being CHrlaiu beforehand that my nephew wouldn't alter one jot of his ultimatum, and that you, on your parts, would refuse compliance with it, I've arranged all for our immediate departure. Lady B. Yes, of course ; let there be a separation, it u all we require. 26 LADIES BEWARE. Matil. But, mamma Lady B. My dear, this is a matter that had much bet- ter be arranged between me and the Colonel alone. Return to the manor house, I'll rejoin you shortly. You now per- ceive how much affection your husband has for yo 1 1 MatiL Yes, yes, I see plainly he loves me uo longer, since he insists on things that are quite, {looking w'stjulhj at window,) quite impossible. [Going up a little. Lady B. Of course. Col. Oh, that's evident ! Grace, (by side of tree, in a low voice to Matilda.) Im- possible ! why impossible ? Matil. [on other side of tree, in a low voice to Grace.) What mean you ? Grace, {as before.) Come this way, my lady ; come this way. Hush, be silent ! [She leads Matilda oj', l. h. u. e. Night gradually draws on ; stage by degrees gets dark. Lady B. (in a low voice to Colonel.) Colonel, Tm not your dupe, (indicating paper which she has in her hand.) This is your handiwork ! Col. (hypocritically.) Me ? can you believe that I am capable Lady B. You are capable of anything, sir ! Col. (bowing.) You flatter me, Lady Beauchamp. Lady B. There shall be a regular deed of separatiou ! Col. With all my heart. Lady B. There have been serious injuries and cruelties: you threw us out of the window, sir ! Col. Not at all ; you threw yourselves out. Lady B. The court would grant a divorce, even. Wo might have been killed ! Col. In tumbling on the ha}'^ — premeditated hay. The court shall be informed of that, mind ! Lady B. Oh, I'm choking with rage! Beware, Colonel, beware, and let your nephew leave the country before the deed of separation is signed, if he dare ! [She exits at back, r. h., enraged. Colonel throws himself on seat behind tree, laughing. Col. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, &c. Enter Sir Charles from lodge. Sir C. Bless me, uncle, I thought 1 heard high words t LADIES BEWARE. 27 Col. Only your precious mother-in-law, who has just gone away in a towering rage ! Sir C. Ah ! our, or rather your, ultimatum was the cause of that, I si)ppos«e. Col. She has upset everything, just as I hoped she would. Sir C. Do Iiave a care. I'm afraid we've not sufficient- ly thought of what might be the consequence I Col. {gaily.) The consequence, the consequence ! Pooh ! (looking ojf at hack, l. h., in a Ijw voice.) Eh I what do I see yonder? Sir C. 'Tis Matilda ! 'tis my wife. Col. And Mrs. P. Quick, quick, let's ensconce ourselves here. [They conceal themselves ucliindihe tree, as Matil- da and Grace enter frora back, l. k., carrying a ladder, one at each end. N. B This ladder must be very strongly though slightly made, and shod with sharp spikes. Grace, (as they enter.) Take care, take care. All's light, nobody sees us. ■Matil. Oh dear, oh dear, how horribly tormenting ! Grace. Not at all ; isn't it to restore you to the arms of the man whom you love ? [They have got as far as the lodge. Matil. (letimg her end of the ladder fall.) Oh, it is very heavy. Grace, {putting her end down.) Let's rest a bit, then. Sir C. {concealed behind tree, peeping.) What the deuce are they carrying? Cil. {aside to him.) I can guess. Matil. Oh, my poor arms ; yoa should have taken the smaller one. Grace. It wouldn't have been long enough. Col. {stealing softly near laddeY and returning to Sir Charles.) It is. a ladder. Sir C. Can it be possible I What are they going to do with it ? Col. Hush ! Grace. You wouldn't let rac tell Mr. Peabody ; he'd have carried it for us as if it had been a feather ; for he's very strong, is Mr. P. Mull. Place another in one's confidence? I should have died wilh shame. S8 LADIES BEWARE. Grace. Why what shame is there in going into you own house — to your owa husband ? Sir C. (with joy) Oh, heaven! Grace. And why not enter by the windows as well as the door, if it happens to be more convenient ? Sir C. {as before.) Mrs. P is certainly the most sensible little body I ever met with. Grace, (going and taking up the ladder, v.)hich, with some difficult]/, she raises against the balcony.) Now, I can manage this by myself, I think. Miitil. Take care. Grace. Oh, don't be afraid ; there — there it is ! Matil. (pointing to window.) Don't talk so loud, there's a light in the room ; he is no doubt there, and might over- hear us ! Grace. Nov/, all's ready. Now, my lady, take courage, and mount to the assault ! Malil. (touching the ladder. It — it isn't steady : I shall never have heart to Grace. I'll hold the foot : now up, up with you ! Matil. (going up a step or two.) Have you got fast hold ? Grace. Oh, yes, yes. Matil. (coining down again.) Ah ! Grace. What's ihe matter ? Matil. How siiall I ever get over the balcony ? Grace. Never fear ; go, go. Matil. Well, I [Gets on first step again. Sir C. (as before ) She may kill herself, uncle ! Col. Nonsense ! let her alone. Matil. (on third or fourth step.) Oh, if you knew how I tremble ! Grace. There isn't a bit of danger — you're half up al- ready. Matil. Oh, mercy upon us, the ladder totters. [She descends rapidly. I — I shall fall. I never shall be able to do it. Grace. How awkward you ladies are! Here, stop, I'll arrange it better. {She removes ladder to end of balcony, next to park wall. There ! now you'll have the wall to lean upon aud steady yourself by. LADIES BEWARE. 29 Matil. (she begins to ascend again.) True, that will do a great deal bettor. Grace. If it was me, I should have run up like a lamp- lighter ! Sir C. I can't see her, uncle. Col. Be quiet. Matil. {three or four steps up.) .Hush I I thought I heard a voice.- Grace. JSTonsense ! it was only the bellowing of the cows or the grunting of the pigs. Vol. Very flattering for us ! Grace. Well, are you up ? Matil. Nearly. I've got hold of the balcony. There t \She is now upon the balcony. I'm here ! [At this motnent the Colonel, icho has softly gone to back of stage, coughs loudly, as if to attract atten- tion. Matil. Oh, heaven, some one comes ! Grace, (aside to herself, hurrying up to bach of stage.) Then I'm off. Col. (catching hold of the hand of Grace, in a low tone to her.) 'Tis I ! ' Grace, (aside.) The old gentleman. Col. (very rapidly, in a low voice to her.) Here ! there's a weU-fiUed purse for you, (gives her purse,) on condition that you run with all speed to the manor house, and tell Lady Beauchamp that at this moment there's a young lady in my nephew's bed-chamber. Grace, (laughing as before.) What! would you Col. (as before.) Not a wOrd more ! Grace, (as before.) Ha, ha, ha! how droll — ^how funny ! I'll go, never fear me, sir. But first, to make, everytlung sure, let's cut off the retreat. [She rapidly moves ladder from wall, and then exits at back, r. h. Matil. (still on the balcony.) I — I can't hear any voices! Perhaps there was no one after all. (calling, in a low voice.) Grace ! Grace ! She is not there — she has gone — left mo all alone. I — I — don't dare to descend without her — it is 80 very high. I — I suppose I'd better go on. [Indicating window. Col. (retaining Sir Charles, who is anxious to rush 30 LADIES BEWARE. across to door of lodge.) Be quiet, I tell you ; it is not timo yet. Mat.il. (tapping at vnndow of balcony.) Sir — Sir Charles ■ — it is — me — it is Matilda — your wife ! Sir C. I can't contain myself any longer ! I must and will ; 4Jol. Deprive yourself of the very greatest felicity of all? «VirC;^ What felicity? Col That of knowing how much she loves you ! Sir C. (stopping and listening.) True, true ! Matil. (tapping again at window.) I — I have done all that you required — and without saying a word to my mother. I have coiue — I am here to— to ask — hospitality. Sir C iVlydcirliugwifel Col Hnsh! M itil. (To herszlf.) Fie doesn't answer me. (nt window.) You — yousiirnly don't want, anything more, Charles. Aro yon — are yon sliil angry wiih me ? Col (r&fa'ning .Sir Charles, who aga'n seeks to escape from him ) .Not yet, I tel! you. Sir C B.it L-he hushpfii waiting for me this half hour. * CjI. She imde yo:i Writ a whole month. M2f.ii. s\'■v^rlng, ...s- fv):.th col.i ) If. is quite dark — and — Charle.s — .lui cuid — Iru very cold — I shall catch my death. S r C. She'll catch her death: it's friglitful ! CiL Rpu, pray open the window, Charles, (loii/i im- patience, imperatively ) Open the window, sir ; it is really wrong 10 pat me in an ill temper. CoL riiere — you see (Mitil raumlng former submissive tone of entreaty.) But no. no, I was Vv'i'oag I'm not in an ill temper. S'r C. Tliere — yon see. Mitil I'll lu'ver be in an ill temper with you again, dear Charles, for I ve suffered too much by such folly already. — Husband, dear hi'.sbiuid, I am submissive -lam repentant • — I will be obedient. What can yon wish for more ? Sir C (after a mrment's straggle wiih the ('olonel, es- caping from him ) I can bear it no longer. Matilda, Ma- tilda ! my dear wife Mitl. Ah, Charies! (turning and leaning tremblingly upon balcony ) What, are you there, sir? How came you there — below ? LADIES BEWARE. 31 Sir C. How came you there — above, my darling ? Matil. Me ! I — I hardly know. I was — I was taking an evening walk ; a.nd... (suddenly). But no, no, why should I blush to own it? (with a submissive air.) I was obeying your commands, as is my duty. Col. Very good, very good, niece. Sir Charles has rushed into the lodge, through door, R. H. Lady Beauchamp enters hurriedly at back, r. h. ; Grace following her. Lady B (at back as she enters.) Can it be true ? Mitil. Mercy upon me — my mother ! Lzdy B. (to Colonel.) A female — at this hour — -in his bed-chamber ? Grace, (fo Colonel.) I have done jusl what you ordered me. Col. (to Grace, aside.) So I see. Lady B. (looking up at balcony.) Yes, 'tis so, indeed. \_At this moment the window is opened and Matilda, entering it, disappears from view. I saw her, I saw her ! and now we have plen'y of evidence for a separation, and a divorce too. There wants no more Col. But the necessary witnesses. * Lady B. We will have witnesses in abundance directly, eir : never fear. {She exits hastily into lodge, r. h. Col. What does she mean? Grace. She ordered the servants to follow her to the lodge immediately, with lights. Col. I joyfully) IJa, ha, ha, ha ! Capital — excellent! Enter Lady Beauchamp /ro/n lodge, dragging Matilda after her. Lady B. Ah, think not to escape, whoever you are- Lady Ossulton or any one else, no matter — [At this moment two livery servants enter at back with torches. Lights up. Great heaven — my daughter ! Col. (pointing to Sir Charles, who has followed from lodge.) And her husband ! [Matilda hides her face in Sir Charles's embrace- "Who, I fancy, no longer thinks of a separation. 32 LADIES BEWARE. Lady B. (stu^rifled.) My daughter! and how did she get np — there? [Pointing to balcony. Grrtr.e. (who has taken up the ladder.) By this ladder, my lady. Lady B. And her dignity Grace. Yes, my lady, and her dignity too. Col. And thus, I hope, all ends happily, with the ap- proval and acceptance of " our ullimatuw, .'" Matil. Ah, nry dear uncle, I suspect that we owe you no slight thanks for the share \vhich you have taken iii b-inging about this agreeable denouement. {To audience.) And now. if I might be allowed to advise with those of our friends here who are, or are about to get married, I should point to the moral of our story, and say — Husbands ! use^ but do not abuse, yonv authority ; in tioo words, Gentlemen, BE KIND ! To Wives — use, but do not abuse, your influence : think of the lesson which I have just received ; and, in one word, Ladies — Beware ! Disposition of Characters. Grace (iDith the ladder) Matilda. Sir Charles. a. Colonel. • Lady B. h. ■■',1 -W-'^^iWi 7i/:0€-t'-^^'.^/^- LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 385 620 3 # \