PR 52.o> O v. REMARKS This Drama, which has been so successful in New York, was origi- nally produced in London, under the title of The Farmer's Story; or, The Broken Heart, and the famed Timothy Toodles was therein de- signated Mr. Tweedle. Mr. Burton, pleased with the novelty of the idea, wrote up this part for himself, and, under the title of The Toodles, aided by his own excellent acting, it has become one of the most popular of modern dramas. Mr. Charles Burke has also added to his well-earned reputation by his admirable performance of this part at the Bowery Theatre and elsewhere, while Chanfrau adds it to the best of his parts. It is one of those instances in which the under-plot of a piece has become its principal attraction— but we must not lose sight of the Drama itself in our admiration of the ac- tors. The story of the farmer and his two sons, is well told, the plot carried on to the end of the piece with much ability. Charles Fenton, the rough and honest Tar, ever ready to do a generous action and ever ready to protect his shipmate, or to fight with him in the cause of his sweetheart, is admirably drawn. The characters of the two brothers, George and Francis Acorn, are well contrasted. Mrs. Tabitha Toodles is a gem, with her continued bargains at auction — while Mary Acorn, the good and virtuous daughter, niece, and betrothed brido, suffering for the faults of others, excites the sympathy and admira- tion of the audience. Few dramas of the present day are more en- titled to success than The ToocLles, which will hold its place upon the Stage for many years. F. C. W CAST OF CHARACTERS, As performed at the Bowery Theatre, X. Y..1: Ofcrfo F:-,:ci. , Mr StoML Fir -,-- A:-'--: Mr flenfe ■ ■ - - _ .1 Mr. R MlM ■-■ Mr. Timothy Twdles Mr. Chftri Lawyer Olib^ Farmer Fenton, Mr. Byrne. 1st JFhrmer, Mr. Rodgers. 2nd Farmer, Mr. Armand. 3rd Farmer^. Mr. Reed. Landlord, Mr. Calladine. Mi -i A:: . .. Mis:- Herring, Mr$. Tabtika Ibodles, Mr*. Teotna STAGE MEMORANDA. R. means Right; L. Left ; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door ; S. E. Second Entrance; U E. U; per Entrance; M. D. MiddU Door; zee. THE TOODLES. ACT I. Scene I.-— Rustic view. — Cottage r. h. Enter male and female villagers. Music. Chorus, Brightly, brightly, dawns the day, A fair and cheerful warning, That joy will all our toils repay Throughout this cheerful morning. [At the end of which villagers go off, and Mary enters from cottage, r. h.] Mary. Ob, how beautiful is this morning ; the birds are singing merrily — the flowers budding forth, and every- thing looks propitious on the day that I'm to be united to my dear Charles. Enter Charles, l. u. e. Cha. Oh, my dear Mary, I hove down, as fast as I could make sail. Bless your dear toplights—- and so this is the little frigate I'm to take command of. Mary. I'm not a frigate, and I don't want to be pulled about, hbre> there> and every where. 8 THE TOODLES. Cha. Come, don't pout those pretty lips — don't let the slightest cloud darken our matrimonial hemisphere — but, here comes your father. Enter Farmer Acorn from the cottage, r. h. Far. Ah, Charles, my dear boy* Come, Mary, bustle about, and get all in readiness — the villagers will be here soon to accompany you to church — then, hey for matri- mony, and I trust for perfect happiness. Cha. There's no fear of that, Farmer, with such a tight little craft as Mary, and such a pilot as you to direct our course. Far. Alas ! be not too sanguine, my good lad, least in the hour of trial you feel more keenly your disappointment — the sad reality of bitter experience too fully justifies the advice I give you. Cha. Experience ! Far. Yes, experience. 'Tis now twenty years, this very day, since I led her mother to the altar. A twelvemonth had scarcely glided away, when in giving birth to this my only child, she was torn from me, and consigned for ever to an early grave. Since then, my dear Mary has been the only solace of my affections. Oh, how often and how fondly have I gazed upon those features, and listened with delight to that voice whose tones have brought back the memory of her I could almost have wished to have for- gotten. Mary. Oh, bless you — bless you, my dearest father ! Far. My ever-duteous child, in giving you to this young man, I seem to sever the last link that binds me to this world. Charles, to thy keeping I commit the dearest treasure of my heart. Oh, guard her with the tenderest care, comfort her in the hour of trouble, and when this careworn body shall have resigned its claim to mortality, be thou to her what her father has been, and I shall die contented. [Music. Mary and Charles kneel, and the Farmer blesses them, after which the villagers, male and female, enter from r. and l. h., and congratulate the affianced lovers.— After which a Dante. ftttf TOODLES. 9 Enter Farmer Fenton, IstE., l. h. Pen. I am sorry to be the bearer of unpleasant news, but I fear the contents of this letter will somewhat darken your merry faces. Cha, Wh} r j what's in the wind now, Farmer ? no ill storm brewing, I hope ? Fen, Old Nipcheese> the purser, brought it and said, you were to go on board immediately by some particular order, but that you would not be detained many hours. Cha. This is too bad ; after fighting the briny billows for three years, and landing in the haven of joy, to be driven out to sea again. Far. 'Tis hard indeed, Charles, but a sailor's first duty is obedience to the commands of his superior, and as to the marriage^ 'tis but deferring it one day longer. What says my child ? [Mary crosses the stage to Charles. Mary. Go, my dear Charles, and the joy of your return will compensate the pain of any delay. Cha. Bless your dear pipe. We'll heave ahead, father ^—farewell) Mary^— one kiss at parting, and then farewell. [Music at first lively and then bold. Charles and old Fenton go off l. h. Farmer Acorn and Mary go into the cottage it. h. Music changes and George Acorn enters u. e. r. h. Geo. Yes-, this is the spot— these fields — yon verdant hills-^the gentle stream that runs below the rustic arch,, and yonder straw-thatched cottage, beneath whose homely roof my boyish days were passed — all,, all, recall the bit- terest recollections^ and awaken those feelings- of revenge,, "which I once thought the softening hand of time had some- what dulled. Yonder too is the" little shrubbery, where 7 after the labor of the day, I have so- often waited my Mary's return. Oh, had shebeen mine, how different had been my lot in life — and so* she might have been but for him, my brother. How well do I remember his oily words, when last we parted. " George," said he % " thou 10 THE TOODLES. seest the lass gives me the preference, but let it not breed disunion between us : we may still be happy, still love each other." Villain, hypocrite, rob me of that dearer than life itself, and after prate to me of happiness — no — when I swore by the blue heavens above us, from that mo- ment we were strangers, worse, enemies. Sixteen years have now gone by since that oath passed my lips, and the maddening recollections of being betrayed — his deceptive arts revive with doubled force, the hate, the lasting bitter bate, which then was planted in my heart. Yes, for six- teen years I have been a wanderer in foreign climes, and what has borne me up, through every ill, in burning heat, and piercing cold — why, hate — why, deep and deadly hate. Now then to seek him. [Music. Exit George, l. 1st e. Scene II. — Landscape — Village in the distance. Mrs. Toodles speaks outside — "But, my dear Toodles." Enter from 2?id e., l. h., Mr. Toodles, Mrs. Toodles fol- low i)ig him. Toodles. Oh, don't dear Toodles me — you'll drive me mad — your conduct is scandalous in the extreme. Mrs T. My dear Toodles, don't say so. Toodles. But I will say so, Mrs. Toodles. What will be- come of us, with your passion of going to auctions, and buying every thing you see, because its cheap. I say, Mrs. Toodles, where's the money, and echo answers, where. Mrs. T. Vm sure, my dear Toodles, I lay it out to the best advantage. Toodles. You shall not squander and waste my means. Mrs. T. My dear. I buy nothing but what's useful. Toodles. "Useful — useless you mean. I won't have my house turned into an hospital for invalid furniture. At the end of the week I ask where's the money — all gone too — spent in damned nonsense. Mrs. T. My love, although they are of no use to you at present, we may want them, and how useful it will be to have them in the house. THE TOODLES, 11 Tcodles. Why, Mrs. T., the house is full already of damaged chairs, and dilapidated tables, sofas with one leg, washstands with two legs, chairs with three legs, and some without a leg to stand upon. Mrs. T. I'm sure you can't tind fault with the last bar- gain I bought. Toodles. What is it? Mrs, T A pair of crutches. Toodles. A pair of crutches ! What use are they to me, Mrs. T ? Mrs. T. No, not at present, but you might meet with an accident, and then, how handy it will be to have them in the house. Toodles. Oh ! here's a woman goes to an auction and buys a pair of crutches in anticipation that her husband will break his legs. But look what you did the other day, when this railroad was finished out here, why curse me, if you did not buy forty-three wheelbarrows — some with wheels, and some without wheels ; and then again, before this new system of police was introduced, we had watch- men, and watch-boxes — now our police have stars on their breasts, and the corporation abolished watchboxes. They were all put up at auction, and I'll be hanged if you didn't buy ninety- three watch-boxes. Mrs. T. Now, my dear Toodles, how unreasonable you are ; you don't know but they will be wanted, and then how handy it will be to have them in the house. Toodles. That's your old excuse. We have wheelbar- rows in the yard, watch-boxes in the cellar, wheelbarrows and watch-boxes all over the house. The pigs eat out of the wheelbarrows, and the cows sleep in the watchboxes. Mrs. T. Now, my dear Toodles, don't that prove their utility ! Toodles. When I came home the other night, I tumbled into something and broke my shins. I called Jane to bring a light. I found myself in a watchbox. What was your last purchase? The other day I saw a cart before the door, and two men carrying into the house a door- plate. Mrs. T. My dear Toodles — Toodles. And the name of Thompson upon it. Thomp- son with a P. Mrs. Toodles, if I were not innately a 12 THE TOODLES. sober man, you would drive me to an extreme case of drinking. Well, what was your reason for buying the door-plate? "Toodles, my dear," says you, "we may have a daughter, and that daughter may be a female — and live to the age of maturity — and she may marry a man of the name of Thompson with a P. — then, how handy it will be to have it in the house ! Mrs. T. And won't it dear ? Toodles. You had it stuck over the mantle-piece, and when I come down to breakfast or home to dinner, there's that o'dious name of Thompson looking me in the face. — If I had a daughter, and I caught a man of the name of Thompson making love to her, I'd break his head with that door-plate. Mrsr. T But, my dear Toodles — Toodles. Yes, Mrs.T.,I say religiously, morally, sincere- ly, and emphatically — damn Thompson ! Enter George Acorn, 1st e., l. h. Geo. I beg your pardon, but as I'm a stranger in these grounds, perhaps you could inform me if one Farmer Acorn lives in these parts ? Toodles. Why — yes — there is a farmer Acorn, lives here — one — no more. Geo. Yes, young Frank. Toodles. Not so very young either. He has a daughter grown up — quite a young woman. Geo. True, true — I had forgotten the lapse of time. He had a brother, had he not ? Mrs. T. Yes, who was — Toodles. Allow me, Mrs. Toodles, to inform the gentle- man. He had a brother. Mrs. T. Well— say on. Toodles. Don't interrupt me, Mrs. T. He had a brother. Mrs. T. You said that before. Toodles. Now, Mrs. T., I say it behind — he had a bro- ther. Mrs. T. Well, get on. Toodles. Will you be quiet, Mrs. Toodles? I'll say no more. You never let me do anything properly. Mrs. T. Properly, indeed. — Here have we been married THE TOODLES. 13 these three years, and you hav'nt done anything properly yet. Toodles. Thank ye, ma'am. Will you allow me, Mrs. Toodles, to give this individual the required information ? (crosses to the r. h.) He had a brother — he went to sea — and then, we didn't hear of him — then we did — then we didn't — then again we did. He turned pirate and was hanged at the foreyard arm of one of the king's ships, who took him. Yes — sir — hanged. Geo. Hanged — and the old man ? Toodles. Oh, the father, when he heard of his son's mis- hap — poor old mail' — he went broken-hearted to his grave. Geo. Indeed — my old father died of a broken heart, and I the cause ! Oh, horror — but no, it was not I, it was the traitor, Frank, who drove me from my home, and destroy- ed us both. Toodles. That man must be a married man — he's got a Mrs. Toodles at home — his upper story is a little out of repair, I imagine. Geo. The old man died, and his property ■ Toodles. Why — he did leave every thing to the absent and favorite son, George, in case, by some accident, he might come to life again, as Frank has enough of his own, but has lately been unfortunate, and lives in the old man's house, which he has occupied since, just before his death. Geo. Ah, he took possession of it, did ho, and I suppose he lives as happy and as comfortable in it as if it was his own ! Toodles. Why, it is his own. The brother, George, is dead, and can't return, and of course don't want to live in it. Geo. But his brother may return and drive the spoiler forth. Toodles. What, return again, in person ixj propria ? Oh, come, you are trying to frighten us with ghosts and spirits, as if we were children, but it won't do. You are not afraid of spirits, are you, Mrs. T ? Mrs. T My dear Toodles, you know I am not. Toodles. I thought so, when I saw you empty that black bottle this morning. Mrs. T. Oh, you brute ! 14 , THE TOODLES. Toodles. Besides, we are going to a wedding here — plenty of dancing — drinking — what Mrs. Toodles likes. Geo. A wedding, said you? Mrs. T. {crosses to c.) Yes, a wedding. Young Charles Penton is to be married to Frank Acorn's only daughter, Mary. Toodles. Yes, Mary's a very pretty girl, and Charles a devilish handsome fellow. It is said we are very much alike ! [ Walks ostentatiously across the stage. Mrs. T. You, indeed. You think so, no doubt, for you fancy every girl that looks at you is in love with you. Toodles. I can't help loving the girls, Mrs. Toodles. — You must not think I'm a man of no taste because I mar- ried you. Mrs. T Oh, you unfeeling wretch I Toodles. Don't say so, Mrs. Toodles. I'm going to have a grand auction, just to please you. I'll sell off the watch-boxes, cratches, and ail the rest of the live stock. Mrs. T. Now, that is kind, Toodles dear. You'll let me conduct the whole affair, w T on't you, my pet? Toodles. You shall, my angel, and the first article you shall knock down shall be Mrs. T. What, my sweet ? Toodles. Mrs. Toodles ! Mrs. T. Mr. Toodles, you wouldn't lose me for the world ! Toodles. Wouldn't I — try me. I'll knock you down to Thompson with a P. Mrs. T. Perhaps he may buy me. Toodles. Will he ? — Let him only make a bid and he shall have the door-plate into the bargain. [Exit with Mrs. Toodles, \st e., r. h. Geo. Pirate — hanged — so, so, 'tis plain it was but a plot to rob me of my rights, and he, my brother, the cause of all — the poor old man too, to die brokenhearted — oh, blistered be the tongue that spoke such falsehood in his dying ear — but I'll be revenged — yes, fate in giving him the object of my soul, which he so basely snatched from me, has made him loathsome to my soul, and what I loathe and hate shall I not destroy ? if an adder sting me, or a rat crawls noisome on my path, shall I not crush them ? Yes — revenge ! revenge ! [Exit 1st e., l. h. THE TOODLES. 15 Scene III. — A Church-yard — A wall with a gate in the centre — old Farmer Acorn's tomb-stone on the r. h.— Mary Acorn's tomb discovered on the l. h. Enter Farmer Acorn and Farmer Fenton through the gate in c. F. Acorn. We are secure from observation— as we are to be more closely connected, by the union of our children, I will here relate to you what I have so often promised, the short and sad story of my domestic woes. F. Fen. I shall listen with anxiety and attention. F. Acorn. I have before told you of my brother George ■ — his ignominous captivity and death — my father, broken- hearted, breathed his last, a short time before my wife was snatched from me — my cattle died — my crops failed, and from a respectable farmer I became almost reduced to beggary. I stand, as it were, alone in the world, a blast- ed tree upon a barren heath. Enter George Acorn, at c. gate Fen. But your father's property. F. Acorn. Knowing I was well provided for, at the time of his demise, he bequeathed it all to my brother George. Should he ever return — for he fondly imagined he still lived— but as nothing has occurred to contradict the re- port of his death — just before you came to the village I took possession of the farm, which I intend to give to my daughter as a wedding present, nor in this shall I do wrong to any one — as my brother is for ever lost to us — the grave cannot give up its victim. George Acorn comes doion in the c. Geo, Yes, villain, but it can ! Behold the man you have so basely wronged. F. Acorn. Can it be— yes — 'tis he indeed — my brother —welcome ! welcome ! Geo. Off, off — touch me not, touch me not. 16 THE T00t>LES, F. Acorn. What means this violence ? Hear me 5 George, as heaven is my witness, never have I injured you in word or deed. Geo, Not injured me ! — 'tis false — thou hast stood be- tween me and happiness — but now a feeling of sunshine breaks in from my blackened fortunes, and vengeance smiling on my hopes, leaves me to triumph. Hence, quit the farm — I am master now — go, hide your head in some work-house, starve, rot in prison^ — die on a dung- hill, I care not. F. Acorn. George, you are deceived* Geo. I know it, and by thee 1 jR Acorn. Often in my prayers have i and Mary- Geo. Mary, name her not, I say, least in the madness of my passion and revenge I strike thee to my feet. jP. Acorn. Speak not thus, George— she — the innocent cause of all, lies beneath your feet. Geo. I care not-- there follow her — my hate shall follow you to the grave ! F. Acorn. Hold, George — think where you stand — up- on sacred ground — before yon edifice— -to the grave, said you— that should bury every error, cover every defect, ex- tinguish every resentment. Who can look down upon the' grave of an enemy and not feel a pang that he should have warred with the poor handful of dust that lies moul- dering away beneath him. Behold, too, the grave of our father, who in his dying hour - Geo. Aye, I know, he loaded me with curse3, and all through thee. [Crosses the stage to qRe l. h. F. AcGrn, {on the r. of 'the c.) No — no — no! Geo. What ! did he not curse me then ? F. Acorn. No, George, no. His last words implored a blessing on your head. Geo. What — on my head ! The old man — did he — a; blessing— bless — bless all — ha ! ha ! ha! [George Acorn falls on the grave of his father. — Farmer Acorn and Farmer Fenton looking on, as the curtain falls. end of act i. THE T00DLES. 17 ACT II. Scene I. — Plain Chamber. — The curtain rises to slow music. Mary Acorn discovered seated on the r. h. of a table. — Farmer Acorn on the l. h. Mary. Grieve not, my dear father — all will yet be well. F. Acorn. Not for myself I grieve, bnt for thee, dear child. Mary. Do not despond — my uncle may relent. F. Acorn. Alas, my child, you know him not — for one cause, he presses me still, with bitterest hate — even now, he may arrive and drive us hence. Mary. He would not, could not be so cruel — my tears should pierce his heart, and turn it towards thee. F. Acorn. Thy tears would avail but little — trust rather to that Providence, who in the hour of need, never de- serts the innocent and unfortunate. But we must devise something for our subsistence, Mary — for, alas ! we are quite destitute. Mary. Oh, say not so, my father — I will see my uncle, kneel at his feet, implore him to relent. If all should fail to move his stubborn heart, your Mary will never desert you — I will still be with you, will pray for you, work for you. \Music — Mary kneels to her father, who blesses her, and conducts her off the stage, 1st e., r. h. F. Acorn. A few short years will complete my earthly pilgrimage. Bui for thee, my child, a boundless sea of trouble lies before thee, and thy fragile bark is too weak to weather the storm. Enter George Acorn, 1st e., l. h. Geo. What, still here ? 18 THE T00DLES. F Acorn. I but come, George, to take a last farewell of that place in which I have passed so many happy hcurs. This was the old man's favorite apartment. How often would he sit at that window, with Mary by his side, gen- tly breathing forth her name, and fondly hoping for your return, while the tears flowed down his furrowed cheeks. In yonder chamber he breathed his last. Oh, George, George, as we last night stood by the old man's grave, I there hoped that we had buried all resentment. Geo. Lawyer, do your duty ! Enter Lawyer Glib, 1st e., l. h. L. Glib. Really, dear me — farmer, this is a most un* pleasant business. I speak as a professional man. [He produces a paper and reads as follows : Yoiw father writes thus— tl I hereby, &c, bequeath " and devise the farm, known as Acorn farm, with all the %t live stock thereon, implements, &c., &c, &c.,to my son George," — Ahem ! F. Acorn. Don't trouble yourself, sir, I'm perfectly satisfied as to the justice of my brother's claim. L. Glib. Excuse me, I must do my duty as a profes* sional man. The balance against you in the rental of the same, charging twenty pounds per annum, which you must allow me to say, is very low, amounts to £200 17s. and 6d» Ahem ! Geo. Due to me I L. Glib. Which you are not prepared to account for. F. Acorn. The demand is so sudden, so unexpected. L. Glib. Not prepared to liquidate — bad — then the law must take its course. Excuse me, I speak as a profes- sional man. x\hem ! Geo. Frank Acorn, it is now close upon sixteen years since we parted. I need not remind you of what has pass- ed between us in that time. I've borne an eternity of suffering, and while you revelled in luxury, sorrow, penury and slavery, have been my bitter lot. Who plunged me into this ? F. Acorn. What wild delusion is this ? Geo. Who plunged me into this ? It was yourself, and now comes the just* though tardy punishment. You owe THE TOODLES, 19 me money — pay it — to the last farthing, or to-morrow's sun shall light upon you in a goal. jF. Acorn. Cruel and inexorable man ! L. Glib. Very sorry, but — ahem ! F. Acorn. Spare your pity, sir. I am prepared to meet the worst. L. Glib. Eeally — excuse me— I act merely as a pro- fessional man. Ahem ! F. Acorn. Enough, sir — perform your duty and conduct me to prison. Enter Mary Acorn, r. h. Mary. My father, my father to a prison ! no — no — it cannot be. Geo. It is — is it a dream, or do I indeed behold my lost Mary ? No— no — I see it all. She is my Mary's child, the very image of herself. Come to my arms, for her sake I will love and cherish you. She shrinks from me as from a serpent, and 'tis you — you have reared her to hate and fear me. Mary. No, no, dear uncle, he has taught me to love you— to pray for you. Geo. And dost thou, sweet image of her I once doated on, wilt thou love your uncle ? Mary. Oh, yes- — believe me, I love you, uncle. I will study to please you, to anticipate every half formed wish. Come, father— come, uncle, let me join your hands. Geo. Mary— Mary ! Mary. Come, father — dear uncle, here — here. [$he takes a hand of each in hers. Geo. (starting away) No — no — I cannot take his hand. 'Twas he alone brought me to this misery — but for him I might have been blessed with a child, as lovely as thou art, a happy home, and a devoted wife, instead of which I am now a wretched outcast on the earth — childless and forlorn. Mary. No, not childless while your Mary lives. Oh, let me entreat you to be reconciled. Geo. Reconciled — ha! ha! ha! — Never! F. Acorn. Supplicate no more, my dear child. For thy dead mother's sake he will not leave her child destitute. 20 THE TOODLES. Geo. Aye, for her sake I will love and cherish thee. — Come, then, and be a child to thy wretched uncle — and leave your father to his fate. Mary. Forsake my father ! never ! — no, I would sooner beg — starve, perish — forsake the father of my being ! Geo. Then cling to him — beg — starve — perish, if you will. Lawyer, do your duty. Exit George Acorn, 1st. e., l. h. Mary. My poor father, must you go to prison, (to the Lawyer) Oh, sir, save my poor father, I implore you. L. Glib. Sorry — very sorry — but the law must take its course. I must do my duty as a professional man. — Hem. F. Acorn. Despond not, my child — with thee as a com- panion, and this inward monitor to tell me I have done my duty and no wrong, I shall receive some comfort even from the damp of a prison more than luxury can afford even in a palace to tyranny and guilt. [Slow music. Exeunt Mary, Farmer Acorn and Lawyer Glib, l. h. Scene II. — A Landscape — Cottage with a sign "Black Hen" l. h., 3d e. Two farmers discovered at a table, drinking. 2d Far. So, then, you tell me, good farmer Acorn is to be turned out of his farm. 3d Far. Aye, though he has lived there many years, his father left the property to George, thinking Frank was well provided for, and as George had never been heard of, many years ago Frank took possession of the farm. Now, George, who was thought to be dead, has returned, and is going to turn Frank out of doors. 2d Far. This must be prevented. I propose w r e go and reason with this George Acorn, and if that won't do, we'll give him a devilish good thrashing. 3d Far. Aye, just so — but let us finish our ale first. — Ah ! here comes Farmer Fenton and neighbor Toodles. Now, let us keep quiet and we shall hear something. THE TOODLES, 21 Enter Faemer Fenton and Toodles, 1st e., l. h. — Toodles very much intoxicated. F. Fen. When my son first courted this girl it was thought an excellent match. What can I do ? Toodles. Your duty, and your duty is to support a fall- ing man. [Falls into Fenton's arms, F. Fen. But things have taken a very different turn. Toodles. A very different turn have they ? [He turns round. F. Fen. Yes, Mr. Toodles, things have taken a very great turn, and the girl is now left destitute. Toodles. Des — des — ti — destitute. Act like an honest man. Do you know what an honest man is ? F. Fen. Certainly. Toodles. I deny it — you don't know what an honest man is. F. Fen. Certainly I do — an honest man is Toodles. No such thing. F. Fen. I say an honest man is Toodles. I differ with you. F. Fen. Allow me to say an honest man is Toodles. No such thing. You don't know what an honest man is — and you've known me for a long time. F. Fen. Neighbor Toodles, you are getting impertinent, and I shall leave you. I say impertinent, impertinent, sir. [Exit Farmer Fenton, l. h. Toodles. (looking after him) That man reminds me of a man I once knew — not that man — but another man — (ar- ranges his gloves and commences drawing them o?i) — This man I once knew — not that man — he called his creditors together — says he — not that man says he — its against my interest — to pay so much principal — no — no — its against my principles to pay so much interest — this man — that man — holloa — this glove's got no thumb — this man I once knew — not that man that — (looks at his gloves, first at one, then at tlie other) no thumbs, no fingers. Mrs. Toodles bought these parts at auction — this man — (turns and sees the farmers at the table) how are you, my boys ? 2d Far. (rising from the table) Come along. Farmer 22 THE TOODLES. Acorn always acted like a man. I'll be hanged if he shan't be treated like one. [The ttvo farmers go off 1st e., l. h. Toodles. Landlord, bring me a light, I told you to bring me one candle, not two candles. No — its not two candles — its a sort of a double barrelled candle, [he tries to light his yripe* and puts out the candle in the attempt) I think I won't smoke, (he gets up from the table and puts down his pipe) I'll go home to Mrs. Toodles, to my own dear Tabitha. I wonder if she has been to auction to- day. [D-rops his glove — looks in his hat for it — shakes his handkerchief- — sees the glove on the floor — tries to pick it up — in so doing his hat falls — in endeavoring to pick v.p which, he staggers and falls — gets up with difficulty unci staggers off l. h., u. E. Note. — The whole of the business of this scene is perfectly " ad libitum, n and depends upon the actor who represents the part of Toodles. Scene III. — Landscape — lively music. Enter Charles Fenton, r. h. Cha. So, having reported myself and made all right, here I am on my return to my dear Mary. It was some- what hard, just as I had neared the haven of delight to have orders to put back to sea again. But, no matter, I know Mary is anxiously expecting me. I shall soon call her mine, and Lord bless her pretty face— I wouldn't change her for a queen (noise heard without) Ha ! what do I see — ruffians attacking a traveler, and he with a blue jacket on. I'll bear down to the spot, and if I die on it show the cowardly rascals that one to one is fair play. [Exit Charles Fenton, r. h. Scene IV. — Hurried music — Landscape — A Cottage r., u. e. — A Railing across the stage — A bank on the l. h., u. E. THE TOODLES. 23 Enter Charles Penton, driving the 2d and 3d Farmers across the stage from l. h. to r. h., the?i returns from r. h. Cha. Cowardly land-lubbers — two upon one. I'll never stand by and see it — and now then to tow safe into port and harborage, the craft I've saved. [Slow music — Charles Penton goes off the stage l. h., and returns, assisting George Acorn, whom he places on the bank, l. h., u. e. Steady your helm, all right — bring yourself to an anchor. There you are — they've damaged your upper rigging, and stove in your bulk-head — now then for assistance — I'll tow you into port, never fear. Geo. Thanks, my brave fellow. Cha. Why as I live, here's the farmers cottage {knocks, at the door) No answer — halloa, Farmer Acorn — Parmer Acorn. [Exit into the cottage. Enter Toodles at the back of the stage. Toodles. {singing) " Happy and glorious, 'long to reign over us," &c. [He endeavors to get over the railing, and having done so, stumbles and falls ewer George Acorn's feet. Hallo — what's that? I thought it was a stone. Geo. Pool! Toodles. So you are, Toodles. You were very wrong for musing in bad company. Enter Charles Yenton from the cottage. Cha. Neither the farmer nor Mary in the house. Where can they be ? Where's Mary ? Toodles. What Mary? Mary quite contrary? She's gone to take tea with Mrs. T. Cha. And the farmer ? 24 THE TOODLES. Toodles. He was to have taken tea with Mrs. T., but he's taking tea quite nice and comfortable in goal. Cha. In goal \ are you drunk or mad ? Toodles, {turning towards Charles) Can you look me in the face and ask me that question ? What a strange co — co — co — incidence — that's what — -just what I asked — are you in — in — e — briated or are you 'toxicated? Mrs. Toodles, you are a Cha. [crossing to Geo. Acorn) Oh, stupid fool! Toodles. So she is. How well he knows her. Cha. Come, then, my hearty, (assists George forward) Why, can it be my old shipmate, G-eorge Haywood ! Toodles. What ! do you know that gentleman ? Cha. To be sure I do. We sailed together in the good ship Inflexible. Toodles. The what, whatable? . Cha. The Inflexible ! Toodles. Hurrah for the Flexible ! Cha. Why what wind blows you here? Toodles. An ill-wind blows nobody good. Geo. You are deceived — my name is Acorn. Cha. What, the farmer's long lost brother ? I thought you had long ago settled all your differences. Toodles. Yes, all settled, and I've got the receipts in my pocket. Geo. We have, we have ! Cha. Your name's Acorn — then you are my dear Mary's uncle. Geo. Your Mary ! Cha. Yes — she's about to become my wife. But where can she be ? Neither Mary or the farmer are at home. Geo. 'Tis no longer his — 'tis mine ! Cha. Yours? Geo. Mine ! I came and found another revelling in my birthright, and I turned the spoiler forth. Cha. Look ye — you are the first who ever taught me to point a jacket or reef a top-sail, but if you do aught to injure my Mary, damn me if I don't pour such a broad- side into your buttock shrouds that shall disable you for the rest of your life. [Exit Charles Fenton, IstE., r. bl THE TOODLES. 25 Toodles. Look ye, you are the first who ever taught me to point a basket, or thread a needle, but if you do aught to injure Mrs. Toodles, damn me if I don't pour such a broadside into your buttock shrouds as shal! disable you for the rest of your life. [Exit Toodles, 1st e., r, h. Geo, What means this pain which shoots across my heart ? Is it not the sting of self-reproach— does it not tell me I have used my power with a rod of iron, and made the innocent suffer for the guilty — but there is time to re- pent. Yes, my brave preserver shall be happy with the girl of his heart. They shall not be torn asunder. For my brother — away — he merits not that name, and shall I then forgive him who made me an outcast and wanderer on the earth ? Never ! never \ [Exit George Acorn, r. h., 1st e. Scene V. — A Chamber with centre doors. Enter Mary Acorn and Charles Fenton, l. h. Mary. Will not my uncle relent ? Cha. He seems full of bitterness, but do you plead to him — teach him humanity. Enter Toodles, l, h* Toodles. Humanity— ah ! — humanity. That man does not know what humanity means. He turned the farmer out of the house, and eat his victuals afterwards. Mrs. Toodles speaks outside, l. h. Mrs. Toodles. You can't come in here ! Toodles. Eh ! That's Mrs. Toodles' voice. You may take your oath of it. Enter George Fenton, l. h. Geo. Away !— -I seek not you. Away, woman I Enter Mrs. Toodles, l. h. Mrs. T. You shan't come in here — (to Toodles)— And 26 THE TOODLES. you, you brute, to stand quietly by and hear your wife abused- — and called — woman! Toodles. "What — ain't you a woman ? Oh ! then what are you, a man ? [Retires up ivith Mrs, Toodles. Cha. What, are you here after the ruin you have caused, to insult the victims of your persecutions ? Geo. I came not to insult, but to offer your intended wife a dowry and a friend. Cha. Do you hear, Mary ? Geo. Reflection has restored me to myself, and the in- nocent must not suffer for the guilty. Half my little for- tune shall be yours, Mary— use it as thou wilt, so you will not hate, but pray for your heart-broken uncle. Mary. Thanks, thanks. But pray restore my father to liberty, and I will worship you. Geo. Well, he is free ! Mary. He will bless you for that word. Geo. But I cannot— will not see him. Mary. There is but one day — the thought is a sudden one. Yes, yes, I will try it— it shall be so. [Exit Mary at the c. Mrs. T. There, you see, it takes a woman to soften a man. Toodles. Yes, you've made me very soft ! Cha. It does, indeed — -woman, the solace of man's life, his companion in riches and poverty — his comforter in sickness — the partner of his joys or woes. Toodles. Them's the sentiments — they are my senti* ments. Oh, woman — lovely woman — you are a trump— that's not exactly the word, but the sentiment's the same. Mrs. T. Ah, Toodles, I like to hear you talk in that way, my dear — w T hy don't you behave better to me ? Toodles. I will, my dear-- you've been a good wife to me, Tabitha. I went to the auction too, to-day. I've got a present for you — I bought it quite a bargain. Mrs. T. What is it, eh, dear? Toodles. As soon as I saw it, I said to myself, it will be \ just the fit for my dear Tabitha ! t Mrs. T. Don't plague me. What is it, eh, dear ? \ Toodles. I think I can see you looking so nice and com- fortable in it ! Mrs. T. Well, why don't you tell me what it is ? THE TOODLES. 27 Toodles. Just your fit. A nice brass plate on it, and varnished all over. Mrs. T. Yes, yes, and it is Toodles. A coffin, my love ! Mrs. T. Oh, you brute ! Toodles. We don't want it just now, but we don't know what my happen, and then how handy it will be to have it in the house ! Mrs. T. Oh, you wretch, you'll be the death of me. Toodles. Will I — it's lucky I bought the coffin. [ Goes up the stage with Mrs. Toodles. Enter Mary Acorn and Farmer Acorn from c. Mary. TJncle, here's my father ! Geo. No — no — Mary, it is impossible, for your sake and that of my brave preserver — your father is free — but don't ask me to see him. Mary. Here is the picture of your own Mary — she who was once so dear to you. [Produces miniature. Let her intercede with me for forgiveness of the past — ehe who was dearest to your heart. [She gives him the picture. Geo. Mary ! — Mary ! Mary. Father ! — uncle ! f Takes a hand of each and places them in each other — George Acorn deeply affected, says ; Geo. Frank! F. Acorn. Say brother ! Geo. Brother ! (they embrace) Cha. Mary! Mary. Charles ! (they embrace) Mrs. T. Toodles ! Toodles. Tabitha! [Mr. and Mrs. Toodles embrace, and the curtain descends. c±r " t T THE TOODLES. Disposition of the Characters. 28 CURTAIN. OCT 19 tMff Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: April 2009 PreservafionTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111 0) CO LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 527 159 9 ■ I : ^I 1 ■ ■ 1 ■ 1 B K; ' ' 1 ••^>Wj V 1 1 1 ft.:; ■ I ' : ^¥ 1 I 1 i & •sm ■ M m 1 1 1 Fa §i> 1 I JgM ■ 1 1 1 1 E^