no plWys exchanged. 
 
 Saker's Edition 
 
 m 6T PL7W3 m 
 
 \ 2878 
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 spy 1 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
 
 (IN TWO ACTS.) 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 
 
BAKER'S DARKEY PLAYS 
 
 Edited and arranged for publication from the well-known repertoire of 
 
 " SCHOOLCRAFT AND COES " with all their original 
 
 "gags" and "stage business." 
 
 BY GEO. H. COES. 
 
 ... 15 cents each. 
 
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 Mrs. Didymus* Party. In One Scene. Two male characters. 
 
 Scene, a plain room. An immensely humorous trifle. Flays 
 
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 Scene, a plain room. Always very popular. Plays fifteen minutes. 
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SHAKESPEARE'S 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing 
 
 arrange** in Etoo Sets 
 
 FOR AMATEUR REPRESENTATION 
 By LESLIE WARREN 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDED EXPLICIT AND PRACTICAL STAGE DIREC- 
 TIONS, ENTRANCES AND EXITS, RELATIVE POSITIONS 
 OF THE PERFORMERS ON THE STAGE, AND 
 ALL THE STAGE BUSINESS 
 
 AUG 2 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 &*M^/j^J!^&^ 
 
 1894 
 
CHARACTERS. 
 
 
 jfw<? officers. 
 
 Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon. 
 
 Don John, ^« brother. 
 
 Claudio, a yowtg lord of Florence. 
 
 Benedick, a young lord of Padua. 
 
 Leo nato, Governor of Messina. 
 
 Dogberry,) 
 
 Verges, ) 
 
 Borachio, follower of Don John. 
 
 Beatrice, niece to Leonato. 
 
 Hero, daughter to Leonato. 
 
 Margaret, gentlewoman attending Hero. 
 
 Guests, Watchmen, Attendants, ad libitum. 
 
 Scene. — Before Leonato 's house; the same for both acts. Two days are 
 supposed to elapse between Acts I. and II. 
 
 Time in flaying, about two hours. 
 
 Copyright, 1894, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 
 
 EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 
 
 R. means Right; L., Left ; R. D., Right Door ; L. D., Left Door; 2 E., 
 Second Entrance ; U. E., Upper Entrance ; M. D., Middle Door. 
 
 RELATIVE POSITIONS. 
 
 R. means Right; L., Left; C, Centre; R. C, Right of Centre; L. C. 
 
 Left of Centre. 
 
 'Z-l 
 
 7 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It is the intention of the adapter of this play to alleviate the diffi- 
 culty experienced by amateur organizations in presenting Shak- 
 spearean standard plays, and to make it possible to produce them 
 on an ordinary platform or even in a drawing-room. 
 
 Believing that there is a large number. of amateur organizations 
 who would desire to present more ambitious entertainments, he 
 feels confident that they will appreciate the opportunity of perform- 
 ing these plays in preference to the modern farces and drawing-room 
 comedies to which they have heretofore been confined. 
 
 " Much Ado about Nothing" is acknowledged to be one of the 
 poet's best works. The sparkling repartee of Benedick and Beatrice ; 
 the inimitable drollery of Dogberry and Verges has seldom been 
 excelled. The more serious plot surrounding Hero, Claudio, 
 Leonato and the others combine to make it one of the most inter- 
 esting comedies of Shakspeare, and a never ceasing delight to audi- 
 ences whenever it is presented. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 ACT ONE. 
 
 Scene. — Before Leonato's House. 
 
 {Enter Benedick and Claudio, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Claudio. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior 
 Leonato? {Crosses to R. C.) 
 
 Benedick. I noted her not, but I looked on her. (c.) 
 
 Claud. Is she not a modest young lady? (r. c.) 
 
 Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for 
 my simple judgment ; or would you have me speak after my custom 
 as being a professed tyrant to their sex? 
 
 Claud. No, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment. In mine 
 eyes, she is the sweetest lady that I ever looked upon. 
 
 Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such 
 matter. There's her cousin, and were she not possessed with a 
 fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May does the 
 last of December. But I hope you have no intent of turning 
 husband? 
 
 Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the 
 contrary, if Hero would be my wife. 
 
 Bene. Is it come to this, i'faith? Has not the world one man 
 but will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor 
 of threescore again? Go to, i'faith; and thou wilt needs thrust 
 thy neck in a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. 
 Come, go with me. {Crosses to r.) 
 
 Claud. Whither? {Goes c.) 
 
 Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, count. 
 What fashion will you wear the garland of; about your neck like an 
 usurer's chain or under your arm like a lieutenant's scarf? You 
 must wear it in one way ; for the prince hath got your Hero. 
 
 Claud. I wish him joy of her. {Despofident/y.) 
 
 Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover — so they sell 
 bullocks ; but did you think the prince would have served you 
 thus? 
 
 Claud. I pray you leave me. 
 
 5 
 
c 
 
 6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Bene. Ho ! Why, you strike like the blind man ; 'twas the 
 boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post! (Claudio 
 crosses to L.) 
 
 Claud. If you will not, I'll leave you. {Exit Claudio, l. 2 e.) 
 Bene. Alas ! poor hurt fowl ! Now will he creep into sedges, 
 and sigh himself away. {Goes down R. c.) 
 
 {Enter Don Pedro, Hero, and Leonato, Q.from house.) 
 
 Don Pedro. Now, signior, where's the count? Did you see 
 him? 
 
 Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. 
 I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren. I told 
 him, and I think I told him true, that your grace had got the good 
 will of this young lady, and I offered him my company to a willow- 
 tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind 
 him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. (Leonato and 
 Hero, l. c.) 
 
 D. Ped. To be whipped? What is his fault? (c.) 
 
 Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy, who, being over- 
 joyed at finding a bird's nest, shows it to his companion, and he 
 steals it. 
 
 D. Ped. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The trans- 
 gression is in the stealer. 
 
 Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and 
 the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and 
 the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have 
 stolen his bird's nest. 
 
 D. Ped. I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the 
 owner. 
 
 Bene. If their singing answer to your saying, by my faith, you 
 say honestly. 
 
 D. Ped. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentle- 
 man that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you. 
 
 Bene. Oh, she misused me past the endurance of a block. An 
 oak, with but one green leaf on it, would have answered her; my 
 very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She speaks 
 poniards, and every word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as 
 her terminations, there would be no living near her. I would not t 
 marry her were she endowed with all Adam had left him before he 
 transgressed. 
 
 D. Ped. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in despite of 
 beauty. 
 
 Bene. That woman conceived me, I thank her ; that she 
 brought me up, I likewise give her my most humble thanks ; but 
 that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead, or hang my 
 bugle in an invisible balderick, all women shall pardon me.J Be- 
 cause I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do my- 
 self the right to trust none ; and the fine is, I will live a bachelor. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. *] 
 
 D. Ped. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. 
 
 Bene. With anger, with sickness, with hunger, my lord, not 
 with love : prove, that if ever I lose more blood with love than I 
 will get again with drinking, pick out my eyes with a ballad- 
 maker's pen, and hang me up at the door of an inn, as the sign of 
 blind Cupid. ! 
 
 D. Ped. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt 
 prove a notable argument. 
 
 Bene. Here she comes. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not. 
 I cannot endure my Lady Tongue ! 
 
 {Enter Beatrice and Claudio, c. Exit Benedick, r. 2 e.) 
 
 D. Ped. Come, lady, come. You have lost the heart of Signior 
 Benedick. {Goes down R. c.) 
 
 Beatrice (a). Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while, and I 
 gave him use for it ; a double heart for his single heart ; marry, 
 once before he won it from me with false dice, therefore your 
 grace may well say, I have lost it. {Crosses to r. c. ; Don Pedro 
 goesc.) 
 
 D. Ped. (c). Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and 
 fair Hero is won ; I have broke with her father and his good will 
 obtained ; name the day of marriage, and God give you joy. 
 
 Leon. (l.). Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my 
 fortunes ; his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen 
 to it. {Hands Hero to c. ; Claudio co?nes c) 
 
 Beat. Speak, count; 'tis your cue. {Goes r. c.) 
 
 Claud, (r. a). Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. Lady, 
 as you are mine, and I yours, I give away myself to you, and dote 
 upon the exchange. (Don Pedro goes r. c.) 
 
 Beat. Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a 
 kiss, and let him not speak neither. (ClaUdio and Hero, c. ; 
 Beatrice and Don Pedro, r. c. ; Leonato, l. c.) 
 
 D. Ped. I' faith, lady, you have a merry heart. 
 
 Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a 
 husband. 
 
 Beat. Not till God make man of some other metal than earth. 
 Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered by a piece of val- 
 iant clay, to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward 
 marl ? No, uncle, I'll none. 
 
 Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? {Go- 
 ing tip c. Claudio and Hero cross to l. c.) 
 
 Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. By your grace's pardon. (Bea^ 
 trice goes up c, meeting Leonato ; then exit c. to house?) 
 
 D. Ped. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. {Crosses to C. ; 
 Leonato goes down r. c; Claudio and Hero converse l. c) 
 
 Leon. Oh, she mocks all her wooers out of suit. 
 
 D. Ped. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. 
 
 Leon. O lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk 
 themselves mad. 
 
8 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 D. Ped. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church? 
 
 Claud. To-morrow, my lord; time goes on crutches till love 
 hath all its rites. 
 
 D. Ped. I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully 
 by us. I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labors,- 
 which is to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a 
 mountain of affection, the one with the other. I would fain have it 
 a match. And I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but 
 minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. 
 
 Leon, My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' 
 watchings. 
 
 Claud. And I, my lord ? 
 
 D. Ped. And you too, gentle Hero. 
 
 Hero. I will do my modest office to help my cousin to a good 
 husband. 
 
 D. Ped. And Benedick is not the most unhopefulest husband 
 that I know. Thus far I can praise him ; he is of a noble strain, of 
 approved valor, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to 
 humor your cousin that she will fall in love with Benedick ;. and I, 
 with your two helps, will practise on Benedick, that in spite of his 
 quick wit, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we do this, Cupid 
 is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the 
 only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. 
 
 {Exeunt Don Pedro, Leonato, Hero, and Claudio, c. ; enter 
 Don John and Borachio, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Don John (c). It is so, then ; Count Claudio shall marry the 
 daughter of Leonato. 
 
 Borachio (l. a). Yea, my lord, but I can cross it. 
 
 Don J. Any bar,' any cross, any impediment will be medi- 
 cinal to me ; I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever 
 comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst 
 thou cross this marriage ? 
 
 Bor. Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty 
 shall appear in me. 
 
 Don J. Show me, briefly, how. 
 
 Bor. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I 
 am in the favor of Margaret, the waiting woman of Hero. 
 
 Don J. I remember. 
 
 Bor. I can, at any unseasonable time of the night, appoint her 
 to look out of her lady's chamber window. 
 
 Don J. What proof shall I make of that? 
 
 Bor. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to 
 undo Hero, to kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue? 
 
 Don J. Only to despite them, I will endeavor anything. 
 {Crosses to r. c. ; Borachio c'omes to c.) 
 
 Bor. (a). .Go then, and find me a meet hour to draw Don Pe- 
 dro and the count alone ; tell them that you know that Hero loves 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 9 
 
 me ;. intend a kind zeal toward the prince and Claudio, as — in love 
 of your brother's honor, who hath made this match — that you have 
 discovered this. They will scarcely believe this without trial ; offer 
 them instances, which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me 
 at her chamber window ; hear me call Margaret Hero ; hear Mar- 
 garet call me Borachio ; and bring them to see this the very night 
 before the wedding ; for, in the meantime, I will so fashion the 
 matter that Hero shall be absent ; and there shall appear such 
 seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty that all the preparations shall be 
 overthrown. 
 
 Don J. {crosses to c). Grow this to what adverse issue it can, 
 I will put it into practice. Be cunning in the working of this, and 
 thy fee shall be a thousand ducats. 
 
 Bor. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall 
 not shame me. 
 
 {Exeunt Don John and Borachio, r. 2 e.) 
 {Enter Dogberry, Verges, and watch, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Dogberry. Are you good men and true? (c.) 
 
 Verges (r. c). Yea, or else it were a pity, but they should 
 suffer salvation, body and soul. 
 
 Dogb. Nay, that were punishment too good for them, if they 
 should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince's 
 watch. 
 
 Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbor Dogberry. 
 
 Dogb. Then this is your charge : You shall comprehend all 
 vagrom men ; you are to bid any man to stand, in the prince's name. 
 
 Verg. How if he will not stand? 
 
 Dogb. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go, and 
 presently call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are 
 rid of a knave. 
 
 Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the 
 prince's subjects. 
 
 Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the prince's 
 subjects. You shall make no noise in the streets, for, for the watch 
 to babble and talk, is most tolerable and not to be endured. 
 
 Verg. We would rather sleep than talk. We know what be- 
 longs to a watch. {Crosses to c. ; Dogberry goes l. c.) 
 
 Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watch- 
 man, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend ; only have a care 
 that your bills be not stolen. You are to call at the alehouses and 
 bid all who are drunk to get them to bed. 
 
 Verg. How if they will not ? 
 
 Dogb. Why, then let them alone until they are sober; if they 
 make you not then the better answer, say they are not the men 
 you took them for. 
 
 Verg. Well, sir. 
 
 Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of 
 
IO MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 your office, to be no true man ; and for such kind of men, the less 
 you meddle or make with them, the more it is for your honesty. 
 
 Verg. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on 
 him? 
 
 Dogb. Truly by your office you may, but I think they that touch 
 pitch will be defiled. The most peaceable way for you, if you do 
 take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and let him steal 
 out of your company. 
 
 Verg. Well, masters, we hear our charge : let us go and sit on 
 . the church steps till two and then to bed. 
 
 Dogb. One more word, honest neighbors. I pray you watch 
 about Signior Leonato's door. There is a great coil to-night. 
 Adieu! be vigilant, I beseech you. 
 
 (Exeunt Dogberry, l. 2 e., Verges, et ai, r. 2 e. ; enter Bene- 
 dick, c.) 
 
 Bene. I do wonder that one man, seeing how much another 
 man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviors to love, will, after 
 he has laughed at the. folly of others, become the argument of his 
 own scorn by falling fn love himself; and such a man is Claudio. 
 May I be so converted and see with these eyes? I cannot tell ; I 
 think not, but I take my oath that love shall never make me such 
 a fool. Ha ! the Prince and Monsieur Love ! I'll hide me in the 
 arbor. (Goes into arbor r. u. e.) 
 
 (Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Don P. (l. c). Come hither, Leonato; what was it you told 
 me to-day ? that your niece, Beatrice, was in love with Signior 
 Benedick ? 
 
 Claud, (crosses to R. c, looking up r. u. e. to arbor') . Stalk on ! 
 stalk on ! the fowl sets. (Aside.) I did never think the lady 
 would love any man. 
 
 Leon. (c). No, nor I either. But most wonderful that she 
 should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she has, to all outward 
 behaviors, seemed ever to abhor. 
 
 Bene, (aside). Is't possible ? Sits the wind in that corner? 
 
 Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, 
 but that she loves him with an enraged affection — it is past the 
 infinite of thought. 
 
 Don P. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? 
 (Crosses to c. ; Leonato to l. c.) 
 
 Leon. No, and swears she never will ; that's her torment. 
 
 Don P. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, 
 if she will not discover it. 
 
 Claud. To what end ? He would make a sport of it and 
 torment the poor lady worse. 
 
 Don P. An he should, it were alms to hang him ; she's an ex- 
 cellent sweet lady and out of all suspicion she's virtuous. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. II 
 
 Claud. And she's exceeding wise. 
 
 Don P. Well, we'll hear farther of it from your daughter ; let it 
 cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would 
 modestly examine himself to see how unworthy he is of so good a 
 lady. 
 
 Claud. If he do not dote upon her after this, I shall never trust 
 my expectation. 
 
 Don P. Let the same net be spread for Beatrice, that must your 
 daughter and her maid carry. Let's about it immediately. 
 
 {Exeunt Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio, c.) 
 
 Bene, {advancing, a). This can be no trick; the conference 
 was sadly born ; they have the truth of this from Hero ; they seem 
 to pity the lady ; it seems her affections have full bent. Love me ! 
 Why it must be requited. I did never think to marry. When I said 
 I would die a bachelor I did not think I should live till I was mar- 
 ried. If I do not take pity on her, I am a villain ; if I do not love 
 her, I am a Jew. I will get her picture. {Exit Benedict, r. 2 e. ; 
 enter Hero and Margaret, c.) 
 
 Hero. Now, Margaret, when Beatrice doth come, our talk 
 must be only of Benedick. When I do name him, let it be your 
 part to praise him more than any man merited ; thy talk must be of 
 how Benedick is sick with love of Beatrice. 
 
 {Enter Beatrice, c, reading.} 
 
 Marg. {aside) . Now begin, for look, like a lapwing doth Beatrice 
 run to hear our conference. 
 
 Hero. No, trulv, she is too disdainful. I know her spirits are 
 as coy and wild as the haggards of the rock. (Beatrice starts.) 
 
 Margaret (l. c). But are you sure Benedick loves Beatrice 
 so entirely? (Beatrice goes into arbor r. u. e.) 
 Hero. So say the prince and my new trothed lord. 
 Marg. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? 
 Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it. 
 
 But I persuaded them if they loved Benedick to never let Bea- 
 trice know it. 
 
 For nature never framed a woman's heart 
 
 Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice ; 
 
 Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes. 
 
 I never yet saw man, 
 
 How wise, noble, young, how rarely featured, 
 
 She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister; 
 
 If black, why nature, drawing of an antic, 
 
 Had made a foul blot ; if tall, a lance ill-headed ; 
 
 If low, an agate very vilely cut ; 
 
 If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds ; 
 
 If silent, why, a block moved by none. 
 
 So she turns every man wrong side out, 
 
 And never gives to truth and virtue that 
 
 Which simpieness and merit purchaseth. {Goes down L. c) 
 
12 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Marg. Yet tell her of it, hear what she will say. {Comes c.) 
 
 Hero. No, rather will I go to Benedick and counsel him to fight 
 against his passion. 
 
 Marg. (c). Oh, do not do your cousin such a wrong. She 
 cannot be as much without true judgment as to refuse so rare a 
 gentleman as Signior Benedick. 
 
 Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. 
 
 Marg. {aside). She's limed, I warrant you; we have caught ■ 
 her, madam. 
 
 Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps, I 
 
 Some cupids kill with arrows, some with traps. 
 
 {Exeunt Hero and Margaret l. 2 e. ; Beatrice advances c.) ; 
 
 Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? 
 Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much ? 
 Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu ! 
 Benedick, love on, I will requite thee, 
 Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand; 
 If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
 To bind our loves up in a holy band. 
 
 {Exit Beatrice, c. ; Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, 
 and Leonato, r. 2 e.) 
 
 Don. P. Benedick, methinks you are sadder. {Down r. c.) 
 
 Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. 
 
 Claud. I hope he be in love. (l. c. ; Leonato, l. c.) 
 
 Bene. I have the toothache, (c.) 
 
 Don P. Draw it. 
 
 Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterward. 
 
 Don P. What, sigh for a toothache ? 
 
 Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he who has it. 
 
 Claud. Yet, say I, he's in love. 
 
 Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache. {Crosses to 
 L. c.) Old signior, walk aside with me. I have studied eight or 
 nine wise words do speak to you, that these hobby horses must not 
 hear. 
 
 {Exeunt Benedick and Leonato, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Don P. {crosses to c). For my life, to break with him about 
 Beatrice ! 
 
 Claud, {crosses to r. c). 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret 
 have played their parts with Beatrice, and when the two bears 
 meet they will not bite one another. 
 
 {Enter Don John, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Don J. (l. c). My lord and brother, God save you. 
 
 Don P. Good den, brother. 
 
 Don J. If your leisure served, I would speak with you\ 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 1 3 
 
 Don P. In private? 
 
 Don J. If it please you, yet Count Claudio may hear; for what 
 I speak concerns him. 
 
 Don P. What's the matter? 
 
 Don J. (crosses to c). Means your lordship to be married to- 
 morrow ? 
 
 Don. P. You know he does. (Crosses to L. c.) 
 
 Don J. I know not that, when he knows what I know. 
 
 Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. 
 
 Don J. (a). You may think I love you not, yet let that appear 
 hereafter; for my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dear- 
 ness of heart hath helped to effect the ensuing marriage ; surely suit 
 ill spent, and labor ill bestowed. 
 
 Don. P. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 Don J. I came hither to tell you ; and, circumstances shortened 
 (for she has been too long a-talking of), the lady is disloyal. 
 
 Claud. Who, Hero? 
 
 Don P. Even so, Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero ! 
 
 Claud. Disloyal ! (Crosses c.) 
 
 Don J. The word is too good to point out her wickedness — go 
 but with me to-night, and you shall see her chamber window 
 entered. If you love her then, to-morrow wed her ; but it would 
 better fit your honor to change your mind. 
 
 Claud. May this be so? 
 
 Don P. I'll not think it. 
 
 Don J. If you follow me, I will show you enough, and when 
 you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. I will 
 not disparage her farther ; bear it coldly till midnight, and let the 
 issue show itself. 
 
 Claud. If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her 
 to-morrow, in the congregation where I should wed her, there will 
 I shame her. 
 
 Don P. And as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join thee 
 to disgrace her. 
 
 y (Exeunt l. 2 e., Don Pedro, Don John, a?id Claudio.) 
 \ CURTAIN. 
 
 ACT TWO. 
 
 Scene. — Before Leonato's House, as before, 
 
 (E7iter Benedick ajid Beatrice, c.) 
 
 Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? 
 Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. 
 Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is wronged, (Goes 
 down l. c.) 
 
14 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Beat. (c). Ah ! how much might the man deserve of me, 
 who would right her ! 
 
 Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship ? 
 
 Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. 
 
 Bene. I do love nothing in the world as well as you, is not 
 that strange ? 
 
 Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were possible 
 for me to say I loved nothing so well as you ; but believe me not, 
 and yet I lie not ; I confess nothing and I deny nothing, I am sorry 
 for my cousin. 
 
 Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me ! {Crosses to c.) 
 
 Beat. Do not swear by it and eat it. 
 
 Bene. I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him 
 eat it who says I love you not. 
 
 Beat. Will you not eat your word? 
 
 With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love 
 
 Bene. 
 thee. 
 Beat. 
 Bene. 
 Beat. 
 
 Why then, God forgive me ! 
 What offence, sweet Beatrice? 
 
 You have staid me in a happy hour ; I was about to pro- 
 test I loved you. 
 
 Bene. And do it with all thy heart. 
 
 Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left 
 to protest. 
 
 Bene. Come, bid me do anything for thee. 
 
 Beat. Kill Claudio ! 
 
 Bene. Ha ! not for the wide world. 
 
 Beat. You kill me to deny it ; farewell ! {Crosses to R.) 
 
 Bene. Beatrice. 
 
 Beat. In faith I will go. {Turns back?) 
 
 Bene. We'll be friends first. 
 
 Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than to fight with 
 mine enemy. {Comes c.) 
 
 Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? 
 
 Beat. Is he not approved in the light of a villain, that hath 
 slandered, dishonored, and killed Hero? Oh ! if I were a man, I 
 would eat his heart in the market-place ! {Crosses to l. c.) 
 
 Bene. Hear me, Beatrice ! {Follows her?) 
 
 Beat. Talk with a man out a window ; a proper saying ! 
 {Crosses to c.) 
 
 Bene. (r. a). Nay, but Beatrice — 
 
 Beat. Sweet Hero, she is wronged, she is slandered, she is 
 undone. 
 
 Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. 
 {Crosses to c.) . 
 
 Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. 
 {Crosses to c.) 
 
 Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged 
 Hero? 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 1 5 
 
 Beat. Yes, as sure as I have a thought or soul. 
 
 Bene. Enough; I am engaged; I will challenge him. By this 
 hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, 
 so think of me, and so farewell. {Exit Benedick l. ; Beatrice c.) 
 
 {Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, r. 2 e., and Leonato, l. 2 e., 
 meeting.} 
 
 Don P. Good den, good den. {Crossing to l. c, and are_ 
 going offi,.) 
 
 Leon. Hear you, my lords. {Goes to l. c.) 
 Don P. We have some haste, Leonato. {Stops.) 
 Leon. Some haste ? Well, fare you well, my lords ! Are you so 
 hasty now ; well, all's one. 
 
 Don P. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. 
 Leon. If I could right myself by quarrelling, some of us would 
 lie low. 
 
 Claud. Who wrongs you ? {Coming to c.) 
 Leon. Thou, marry, thou dost, thou dissembler. (Claudio 
 lays his hand on his sword.) Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy 
 sword, I fear thee not. 
 
 Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, 
 
 If I should give your age such cause of fear. 
 
 In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. 
 Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me. 
 
 I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool, 
 
 As under privilege of age to brag. 
 
 Thou, Claudio, to thy head I lay this charge ; 
 
 Thou hast so wronged my innocent child and me, 
 
 That I am forced to lay my reverence by, 
 
 And with gray hairs and bruise of many days, 
 
 Do challenge thee to trial of a man. 
 
 I say thou hast belied my innocent child, 
 
 Thy villainy hath gone through her heart. 
 Claud. My villainy? 
 Leon. Thine, Claudio, thine, I say. 
 Don P. You say not right, old man. 
 Leon. My lord, my lord ! 
 
 I'll prove it on his body, if he dare ; 
 
 Despite his nice fence, and his active practice, 
 
 His May of youth and bloom of lustyhood. 
 Claud. "Away, I will not have to do with you. 
 Leon. Canst thou so daffme? Thou hast killed my child. 
 
 If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. 
 Claud. I will not hear you. 
 
 Leon. No? then I will away. {Goes tip c.) I will be heard, 
 or some of us shall smart for it. 
 
 {Exit Leonato, c. ; enter Benedick, l. 2 e.) 
 
l6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Don P. (l. c). See, see, here comes the man we want to 
 seek. (Benedick comes down l. c) 
 
 Claud, {to Benedick). Now, signior! What news? 
 
 Bene. Good-day, my lords. I come to seek you both. 
 
 Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee. For we are 
 high proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt 
 thou use thy wit ? (Don Pedro, r. c. ; Claudio, c. ; Benedick, 
 l. c.) 
 
 Bene. It is in my scabbard ; shall I draw it. 
 
 Don P. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? 
 
 Claud. Never did any so, but very many have been beside 
 their wit ; I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels, to pleasure 
 us. 
 
 Don P. As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick 
 or angry ? 
 
 Claud. What ! Courage, man ! What though care killed a 
 cat, thou hast mettle enough to kill care. 
 
 Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you charge 
 it against me ; I pray you choose another subject. 
 
 Claud. Nay, then give him another staff, his last was broke 
 across. 
 
 Don P. By this light he changes more and more ; I think he 
 be angry indeed. 
 
 Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. 
 
 Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear? {Crosses to c.) 
 
 Claud. God bless me from a challenge. 
 
 Bene. You are a villain ; I jest not. I will make it good, how 
 you dare ; what you dare ; and when you dare. Do me right, or 
 I will protest your cowardice. You have wronged a sweet lady, let 
 me hear from you. 
 
 Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I have good cheer. 
 
 Don P. What, a feast, a feast? 
 
 Claud. F faith, I thank him ; he hath bid me to a calfs head, 
 and a capon, which, if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife's 
 naught. {Crosses to l. c. ; Benedick, c.) 
 
 Bene. Your wit ambles well ; fare you well, boy, you know my 
 mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humor: you break 
 jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. 
 My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you : I must discontinue . 
 your company. You have, among you, belied a sweet and most 
 innocent lady; for my Lord Lackbeard, he and I shall meet, and, 
 till then, peace be with you. 
 
 {Exit Benedick, c.) 
 
 Don P. He is in earnest. {Crosses to c.) 
 Claud. In most profound earnest; and, Fll warrant you, for 
 the love of Beatrice. {Crosses to c.) 
 Don P. And hath challenged thee? 
 Claud. Most sincerely. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. \J 
 
 Don P. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet 
 and hose and leaves off his wit. {Goes R. c.) 
 
 {Enter Dogberry and Verges, with Borachio bound, l. 2 e.) 
 
 ' Don P. But, soft you ; let be ; pluck up thy heart and be not sad. 
 
 Dogb. (l. c.). Come you, sir, if justice cannot tame you, she 
 shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance : nay, an you be a 
 cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to. 
 
 Don P. How now ! One of my brother's men bound ! 
 Borachio? 
 
 Claud. Harken after his offence, my lord. 
 
 Don P. Officers, what offence has this man done? {Crosses to 
 c. ; Qlkwio goes r. c.) 
 
 Dogb. Marry, sir, he has committed false report; moreover, 
 he has spoken untruths; secondarily, he is slanderer; sixth and 
 lastly, he has belied a lady ; thirdly, he has verified unjust things, 
 and, to conclude, is a lying knave. 
 
 DON P. Whom have you offended, sirrah, that you are thus 
 bound to your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to 
 be understood ; what's your offence? {Crosses to R. c., r. ^/"Dog- 
 berry.) 
 
 Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer ; 
 do you but hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived 
 even your very eyes. What your wisdom could not discover, these 
 shallow fools have brought to light ; who in the night overheard 
 me confessing -how Don John, your brother, incensed me to slander 
 the Lady Hero. How you were brought into the garden and saw 
 me court Margaret in Hero's garments ; how you disgraced her, 
 when you should marry her. My villainy they have upon record, 
 which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my 
 shame ; briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. 
 
 Don P. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? 
 (Claudio crosses to c.) 
 
 Claud. I have drank poison while he uttered it. 
 
 Don P. But did my brother set thee on to this ? 
 
 Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. And he 
 has fled upon his villainy. 
 
 Claud. Sweet Hero: how thy image doth appear, in the rare 
 semblance that I loved it first. 
 
 Dogb. (l. c.). Come, bring away the plaintiffs ; by this time our 
 sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. 
 
 Verg. Here comes master Signior Leonato. 
 
 {Enter Leonato, c. ; Don Pedro goes r. c. During this scene 
 
 Leonato should be less sad ; as knowing that his daughter is 
 
 alive.} 
 
 Leon. (c.). Which is the villain? let me see his eyes, that 
 when I note another man like him I may avoid him. Which of 
 these is he ? 
 
1 8 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Bora. (l. c). If you would know your wronger, look on me. 
 {Bows head.) 
 
 Leon. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast slandered 
 mine innocent child? 
 
 Bora. Yea ; even I alone. 
 
 Leon. Not so, villain ; thou beliest thyself. {Pointing to Don 
 Pedro and Claudio, r. c.) There stand a pair of honorable men ; 
 a third is fled, who had a hand in it. 
 
 I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death. 
 
 Record it with thy high and worthy deeds. 
 
 Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 
 Claud, {comes a). I know not how to pray your patience, 
 
 Yet I must speak ; choose your revenge yourself; 
 
 Impose me to what penance your invention 
 
 Can lay upon my sin ; yet sinned I not, 
 
 But in mistaking. {Kneels.) 
 Don P. By my soul, not I. 
 
 And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 
 
 I would bend under any heavy weight that he'll enjoin me to. 
 Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live ; 
 
 That were impossible ; but I pray you both, 
 
 Possess the people in Messina, here, 
 
 How innocent she died ; 
 
 And since you could not be my son-in-law {to Claudio), 
 I Be yet my nephew ; my brother hath a daughter, 
 
 Almost a copy of my child that's dead, 
 I And she alone is heir to both of us. 
 
 Give her the right you should have given her cousin, 
 
 And so dies my revenge. 
 Claud. Oh, noble sir. {Rises.) 
 
 Your over kindness doth wring tears from me ! 
 
 I do embrace your offer ; and dispose 
 
 For henceforth of poor Claudio. 
 Leon. I will away and inform her. 
 
 This naughty man, 
 
 Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, 
 
 Who, I believed, was packed in all this wrong, 
 
 Hired to it by your brother. 
 Bora. No, by my soul she was not, 
 
 Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, 
 
 But always hath been just and virtuous 
 
 In anything that I do know by her. 
 Leon, {to Dogberry and Verges). I thank thee for thy care 
 and honest pains, kind friends. 
 
 Verg. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend 
 youth, and I praise God for you. {Coming forward.) 
 
 Leon. There's for thy pains. {Gives money to Verges, who 
 retires, and then, to Dogberry, giving him money.) 
 Dogb. God save you, sir. {Coming forward.) 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 19 
 
 Leon. Go ; I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. 
 
 Verg. We leave an arrant knave with your worship, which I 
 beseech your lordship to correct for the example of others. {Bow- 
 ing.) 
 
 . Dogb. God keep your worship ; I wish your worship well ; I 
 humbly give you leave to depart ; and if a merry meeting may be 
 wished, God prohibit it. Come, neighbor. {Bowing.) 
 
 {Exeunt Dogberry and Verges, l. 2. e.) 
 
 Leon. And now, my lords, farewell for a short time. 
 
 {Exeunt Don Pedro, l. 2 e., Leonato, c, and Claudio, l. 2 e. 
 
 {Enter Benedick and Margaret, r. 2 e.) 
 
 Bene. (a). Hero not dead! Good news; good news! 
 {Crosses to C.) So did I think all the time myself. 
 
 Marg. (r. c). No, she lay in a stupor, and only 
 When she heard of this knave's confession did she revive. 
 
 Bene. But I pray thee, sweet Margaret, deserve well at my 
 hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. 
 
 Marg. Will you then write a sonnet in praise of my beauty ? 
 
 Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall 
 come over it, for in most comely truth thou deservest it, so I pray 
 thee call Beatrice. 
 
 {Exit Margaret, c) 
 
 Bene. The God of love, {singing) 
 That sits above 
 And knows me, and knows me ; 
 How pitiful I deserve, — 
 I mean in singing ; not in loving ; marry, I cannot show it in rhyme. 
 I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival 
 terms. 
 
 {Enter Beatrice, c.) 
 
 Bene. Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I called thee ? 
 
 Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. {Comes 
 down l. c.) 
 
 Bene. O, stay but till then. 
 
 Beat. Then is spoken ; fare you well {going l.), now, and yet 
 {comes back) ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is with 
 knowing what passed between you and Claudio. 
 
 Bene. Claudio undergoes my challenge, and either I must 
 shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him as a coward. And 
 I pray thee tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall 
 in love with me ? 
 
 Beat. For them altogether ; which maintained so politic a 
 state of evil, that they will not admit of any good part to intermingle 
 with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer 
 love for me. {Crosses to c.) 
 
20 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Bene. Suffer love ! A good epithet indeed, for I do suffer 
 love, for I love thee against my will. 
 
 Beat. In spite of your heart, I think. Poor heart ! if you spite 
 it for my sake, I will spite it for yours ; for I will never love that 
 which my friend hates. 
 
 Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peacefully. 
 
 {Crosses to L. c. ; enter: Leonato and Hero, c. ; they come down 
 c ; Beatrice goes l. c.) 
 
 Bene. Did I not tell you she was innocent? 
 
 Leon, {down a). So are the prince and Claudio who accused 
 
 Upon the error that you heard debated. [her 
 
 But Margaret was in some fault for this, 
 
 Although against her will, as it appears 
 
 In the true course of all the question. 
 Bene. I am glad that all things sort so well. 
 
 Being else by faith enforced 
 
 To call young Claudio to a reckoning of it. 
 Leon. Well, daughter, you and Beatrice 
 
 Withdraw into a chamber by yourself, 
 
 And when I send for you, come hither, masked. 
 
 The prince and Claudio promised by this hour 
 
 To visit me. 
 
 {Exeunt Hero and Beatrice, c.) 
 
 Bene. I must entreat your favor, I think. {Crosses to c.) 
 
 Signior Leonato, truth it is, 
 
 Your niece regards me with an eye of favor. 
 Leon, {aside). That eye my daughter lent her. {Aloud.*) 'Tis 
 
 most true. 
 Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. 
 Leon, {aside). The sight whereof I think you had from me, 
 
 From Claudio, and the prince. {Aloud.) But what's your 
 will? 
 Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : 
 
 But for my will, my will is your good will 
 
 May stand with ours, this day to be conjoined 
 
 In the estate of honorable marriage. 
 Leon. My heart is with your liking, 
 
 And my help. {Gives his hand.) 
 
 Here comes the prince and Claudio. (Benedick goes l. c.) 
 
 {Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Don P. Good-morrow, good my lords. {Down L. c.) 
 Leon. Good-morrow, prince ; good-morrow, Claudio ; 
 
 We attend you ; are you yet determined 
 
 To marry with my brother's daughter ? 
 Claud, {comes c). I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. 
 
 
 ' 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 21 
 
 Leon. Call her forth. {Exit Attendant.) 
 
 Don P. Good-morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 That you have such a February face, 
 
 So full of frost, of storm, of cloudiness? (Benedick goes R. c.) 
 
 {Enter Hero and Beatrice, masked, c. ; Hero goes r. of Leo- 
 nato, c. ; Beatrice r. of Hero.) 
 
 Claud. Which is the lady I must seize upon? 
 Leon. This same is she, and I do give you her. {Presents 
 Hero to him.) 
 
 Claud. (Hero r. ^/"Leonato, c. ; Claudio l. of him). Why, 
 then she's mine ; why, sweet, let me see your face. (Beatrice 
 goes r. c.) 
 
 Leon. No, that you shall not till you take her hand, 
 
 And swear to marry her. {Goes l. a little.) 
 Claud. Give me your hand ; before this assembly 
 
 I am your husband, if you like me. 
 Hero. And when I lived I was your other wife : {Unmasking.) 
 
 And when you loved you were my other husband. 
 Claud. Another Hero? {Starts.) 
 Hero. Nothing more certain : 
 
 One Hero died defiled ; but I do live, 
 
 And, surely as I live, I am a maid. 
 Don P. The former Hero ; Hero that was dead ? 
 Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. 
 
 All this amazement can I qualify. 
 
 I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death ; 
 
 Meantime let wonder seem familiar, 
 
 And to the chapel let us presently. 
 
 (Hero and Claudio go R. c.) 
 
 Ben. {crosses to Beatrice, c.) . Soft and fair. Which is Beatrice ? 
 
 Beat. I answer to that name. {Unmasking.) 
 What is your will? 
 
 Bene. Do not you love me? 
 
 Beat. No, no more than reason. 
 
 Bene. Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio have 
 been deceived ; for they swore you did. 
 
 Beat. Do not you love me ? 
 
 Bene. No, no more than reason. 
 
 Beat. Why, then my cousin and Margaret are much deceived ; 
 for they swore you did. 
 
 Bene. They swore you were almost sick for me. 
 
 Beat. They swore you were well nigh dead for me. 
 
 Bene. Tis no such matter; then you do not love me? 
 
 Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. 
 
 Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love this gentleman; and 
 I'll be sworn upon it that he loves her, for here's a paper, written 
 
22 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 in his hand, a halting sonnet of his own pure brain, fashioned to 
 Beatrice. {Giving it to Beatrice.) 
 
 Hero. And here's another written in my cousin's hand, stolen 
 from her pocket, containing her affection for Benedick. {Giving 
 it to Benedick.) 
 
 Bene. A miracle ; here's our own hands against our hearts. 
 Come, I will have thee ; but by this light, I take thee for pity. 
 
 Beat. I would not deny you ; but by this good day, I yield 
 upon great persuasion ; and partly to save your life, as I was told 
 you were in a consumption. 
 
 Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth. {Kisses her.*) 
 
 Don P. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? 
 
 Bene. Pll tell thee what, prince ; a college of witcracks cannot 
 flout me out of my humor. If a man will be beaten with brains, he 
 shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do pro- 
 pose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world 
 can say against it; and this is my conclusion. For thy part, 
 Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee ; but in that thou art like 
 to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. Therefore, 
 play music. Let's have a dance, ere we are married. Prince, art 
 thou then sad ? Get thee a wife; get thee a wife. {They laugh.) 
 Nay, laugh not ; laugh not. 
 
 Your gibes and mockery I laugh to scorn, 
 There is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn ! 
 {All characters dance.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
A NE W SOCIETY D RAMA. 
 
 THE TRUSTEE. 
 
 A. Pi>ay in Four Acts. 
 
 By WILLIAM MAYNADIER BROWNE. 
 
 i Author of "A Fool fob Luck," " Red or White," " Bachelor's Hall," 
 i "An April Day," "Betty," etc. 
 
 As originally performed by " The Players," of West Newton, Mass., at City 
 Hall, November 24, 1890. 
 
 ' Ten male and five female characters. Costumes, modern and elegant. 
 Scenery three easy interiors, capable, however, of any amount of elaboration. 
 This really admirable play, upon a purely American subject, with American 
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 dents stirring, its tone dignified and its humor refined. In its general character 
 it is not unlike the popular " Jim, the Penman," and like that piece every 
 part is a strong and important one. 
 
 Price • . • • • 25 Cents. 
 
 SYNOPSIS: 
 
 ACT I. — Drawing-room in the Trustee's house. A doubtful character. A tell- 
 tale letter. A little deal. Barbara and business. $60,000 in bills. Peacock's 
 prescription. Philip and Barbara. " The birthday of our happiness." The 
 sleeping draught. "This will smooth the way to the safe." A toast. 
 
 FOILED. 
 
 ACT II. — Office of the Trustee. The blind guardian. The burglary. Puz- 
 zled. " My eyes, my eyes ! "With them I could have told." The Trustee and 
 his trust. Suspicion. Husband and wife. The inquiry. "It is useless 
 — the criminal is in this room ! " 
 
 ACT III. — The Trustee's house. Under arrest. A mystery. " We must prove 
 him innocent in spite of bimself ." The Trustee's confession. " It is not 
 true." Conn O'Hara to the rescue. "Now's your chance. Sure, it's asleep 
 lam." Husband and wife. "Will you force me to prove your guilt?" 
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 FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS. 
 
 GAFFER GREY'S LEGACY. 
 
 A. Comedy in Two Acts. 
 
 For Female Characters Only. 
 
 Eight female characters. Costumes modern ; mourning dresses in the first 
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By the Author of " THE STOLEN WILL.' 5 
 
 THE FINGER OF FATE 
 
 OR, THE DEATH LETTER. 
 
 A. Melodrama in Three; Acts. 
 
 By LEN ELLSWORTH TILDEN. 
 
 Author of " The Stolen "Will," " The Emigrant's Daughter," etc. 
 
 Eight male and three female characters. Several changes of scene in each 
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 Bulfinch Place, Boston, Mass., May, 1882. 
 Mr. Tilden, 
 
 Dear Sir : — 
 
 The secret of a good play is short, crisp dia- 
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 William Warren. 
 
 This piece has been on the road during the past ten years under contract 
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 Price 15 Cents. 
 
B 
 
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 By Mrs. C. N. BORDMAN, 
 
 Author of "The Kingdom of Mother Goose," "Motion Songs for the i 
 Boom," " The Temperance Clarion '* 
 
 Complete 'with all the music and full instructions for performance. This collectio 
 strongly recommended for its simplicity, originality of idea, tunefulness and perfect j 
 ticability. 
 
 Price 50 cents. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE BROWNIES. A Musical J 
 dren. For any number of boys. 
 
 JIMMY CROW. A Recitation for a JJJittle Girl. 
 
 MARKET DAY. An Operetta for ^oung People. Seven speak 
 and chorus. 
 
 QUEEN FLORA'S DAY DREATSfc An Operetta for Childn 
 speaking parts and chorus. 
 
 THE BOATING PARTY. A Musical Sketch for Little Children. Thirty 
 boys and girls. 
 
 SIX LITTLE GRANDMAS. A Musical Pantomime for very Little 
 Children. Six very little girls. 
 
 A HOUSE IN THE MOON, A Recitation for a Little Girl. 
 
 ROBIN'S SPECIFIC; 
 
 OR, THE CHANGES OF A NIGHT. 
 A Christmas Operetta in One Act. 
 
 Words by 
 AMELIA SANFORD. 
 
 Music by 
 ADAM CIEBEL. 
 
 For one adult and nine children from eight to sixteen yeai's old, with eight very little boys 
 and twelvelittle girls for Chorus. Three changes of scene, very easily arranged, costumes 
 varied but simple and readily procured. Very effective and easily gotten np. 
 
 Cataloyxtes describing the above and other popular entertainments sent free on application to 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 
 
 THEATRICAL PUBLISHERS, 
 
 No. 23 Winter Street, - - BOSTON, 
 
 ....