t It o •« **s Class] » R Author. Title Imprint. 16—47372-1 GPO Sylvester Ba^getwood. AN INTERLUDE. AS PERFORMED AT THE NEW-YORK AND PHILADELPHIA THEATRE&. NEW-YORK : PRINTED AND PUBLISHED AT THE Oirculating Library and Dramatic Repositert)^ No. 4 Chamber-stre&t. E. M. Murden, print. 1824. t ^ DRAMATIS FERSONjE. NeW'York. •ylvester Dionysus Daggerwood, Mr, Wallack. I'ustian, Watkinsov. John, Nexew. SYLVESTER DAGGERWOOD. ;^CENE — .'? Chamber — Fustian nnd Daggeii- WOOD discovered — Fustian sitting in one chair, Duggerwood asleep in unothei. The clock strikes eleven. Fits. Eight, nine, ten, cloven ! — Zounds, eleven o'clock ; and h(;rc I liavR been waiting; ever since nine, for an interview with the man- ager, (a servant crosses the sta^e) — Harkye, young man, i;s your master visible vet ? Serv. Sir ! Fits. 1 say, can I see your master ? Serv. He has two genllenien with him at present, sir. Fus. Ay. the old answer. Who is this asleep here in the corner ? Serv. Oh ! that, sir, is a gentleman who wants to come out. Fus. Corne cut ! then awake him, and open the donr. 'Gad, the greatest difficulty at this house is to L;et in. Serv. Ha 1 ha ! I mean, he wants to appear on the fvHgo, sir ; 'tis Mr. Sylvester Dagger- wood, of the Dunstable Corrp?uiy. Fits. Oho ! a country candidate for a Lon- don truncheon, a sucking Prince of Denmark — Damaie, he snores like d tinker — fatigued with .^i? journey, I siippofe. '-.erv. No. .-ii — he has taken 9. nap in this 1 6 SYLVESTER room these five mornings — but hasn't been ab) to obtain an audience here, yet. Fm. No, nor at Dunstable, neither, 1 tal . it. Serv. I am so loth to disturb him, poor ger, tleman, that I never wake him till a full hon after my master is* gone out. Fus. Upon my soul, that's very obliging ! i roust keep watch here, 1 find, like a lynx. Weii friend, you'll let you master know Mr. Fusti r is here, when the two gentlemen have left hi at leisure. Serv. The moment they make their exit. [ex'> Fus. Make their exit ! this fellow must ha^ lived here some time, by his language, and, i warrant him, lies by rote like a parrot, (o down and pulls out a manuscript) \i I could Ui' this manager for a minute, I'd read him such u tragedy. Dag. {dreaming) Nay, and thou'lt mouth — I'll rant as well as thee Fus. Eh ! damme, he's talking in his sleep '. acting Hamlet before twelve tallow candles the country. Dag. " To be, or not to be" — Fus. Yes — he's at it— let me sec— {turning over the leaves of his play) I think there's no doubt of its running. Dag. {dreaming) " That is the question.' - " Who would fardels bear" — Fus. Zounds ! there's no bearing you ! — iiis grace's patronage will fill h-ilf the side boxes, and 1 warrant we'll stuff the critics into the ; it. DiVGGERWOOD. J Dag. [dreaming) " To groan and sweat" — - " When lie himself might his quietus make" — Fus. Quietus! 1 wish «ith all my heart I could make your's. The countess of Cram- bo insists on the best places for the first night of performance ; sha'll sit in the stage box. Dag. [stiil dreaming) "With a bare bodkin !" Fus. O, the devil, there's no enduring this ! Sir, sir ! {xsoaking him) Do you intend to sleep any more ? Dag. (wakitig) Eh ! what ? — when ? " Methought 1 heard a voice cry, Sleep no more." Fus, Faith, sir, you heard something very like it, and that voice was mine. Dag. Sir, I am your respective servant to command, Sylvester Daggerwood — whose bene- fit is fixed for the eleventh of June, by par- ticular desire of several persons of distinction ; you'd make an excellent Macbeth, sir. Fus. Sir! Dag. " Macbeth doth murder sloep, the in- nocent sleep, balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course." — Faith, and very often the first course, too ; when a dinner is unavoida- bly deferred, by your humble servant to com- mand, Sylvester Driggervvood. Fus. I am very s^orry, sir, you should ever have occasion to postpone so pUa?ant a per- formance. Dag. Eating, sir ! is a most popular enter- tainment for a man and horse, as 1 may say — but I am apt to appear nice, sir — and, some- how or other, I never could manage to sit r!oivr> to dinner in a bad company. 8 SYLVKSTER Fus. Has your company been bad, then, of late, sir ? Dag. Damn'd bad, indeed, sir — The Dun- stable coinpany — where 1 have eight shillings a week, four bits of candle, one wife, three shirts, and nine children. Fus. A very numerous family. Dag. A crowded house to be sure, sir, but not very profitable. Mrs. Daggerwood, a fine figure, but, unfortunately, stutters ; so of no use in the theatrical line. Children too young to make a debut, except my oldest, master Apollo Daggerwood, a youth only eight years old, who has twice made his appearance in Tom Thumb to an overflowing and brilliant barn — house. I mean — with unbounded and uni- versal applause. Fus. Have you been long on the stage, Mr. Daggerwood ? Dag. Fifteen years since I first smelt the lamp, sir : my father was an eminent button- maker, at BirmLngh;im, and meant to marry me to Miss Molly Motre, daughter to the rich di- rector of the coalworks at Wolverhampton • but 1 had a soul above buttons, and abhorred the idea of a merceaaiy marriage — I panted for a liberal profession — so ran away from my father, and engaged with a travelling coinpany of comedians ; in my travels 1 hud soon the happiness of forming a romantic attachment with the present Mrs. Da^sjerwood, wife to Sylvester Drtsrgeivvood, vour humble servant to comniiuid, whose benelit is fixed for the ele- venth of June, by particular desire ot several DAGGERWOOD. 9 persons of distinction— so you see, sir, I hare a taste. Fus. Have you ? then sit down, and I'll read you my tragedy : I am determined some- body shall hear it before 1 go out of the house. (5tfs down) Datr. A fragedy '. — Sir, I'll be ready for you in a moment ; let me prepare for wo. {takes out a very ragged pocket-handkerchief) " This handkerchief did an Egyptian to my mother give." Fus. Faith, I should think so — and, to all appearance, one of the Norwood party. Dag. Now, sir, for your title, and then for the dramatis personae. Fus. The title, 1 think, will strike: the fashion of plays, you know, is to do away old prejudices, and to rescue certain characters from the illiberal odium with which custom has marked them. Thus we have a generous Is- raelite, an amiable Cynic — and so on. Now, sir, I call my play — The Humane Footpad. Dag. What? Fus. There's a title for you ! Isn't it hap- py ! Eh, how do you like my Footpad ? Dag. Humph! VVhy, I think he'll strike — but then lie ought to be properly executed. Fus. Oh, sir, let me alone for that. An ex- ception to a general rule is, now, the grand se- cret for dramatic composition. Mine is a free- booter of benevolence, and plunders witli sen- timent. Dag. Theremay be something in that ; and, for my psirt, I was always with Shakspeare — " Who steals my purse, steals trash." 10 SYLVESTER I never had any weighty reason yet for think- ing ollierwise. Now, sir, as we say, please to " leave your damnable faces, and begin." Fui. My damnable faces ! Da^. Come — '* we'll lo't like French fal- coners." Fus. (reading) Scene first — a dark wood — flight. Dii<^. A very awful beginning. Fus. (reading) The moon behind a cloud. Dag. That's nevr. An audience never saw a moon bebind a cloud before — but it will be devilish difficult to paint. Fus. Don't interrupt— where was 1 ! Oh, behind a cloud. Dug. " The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces — " Fus. Hey, the devil ! what are you at ? Dag. Beg pardon ; but that speech never conies into my head but it runs away with me. Proceed. Fus. (^reading) Enter — Dag. " The solemn temples — " Fus. Nay, then, I've done. Dag. So have I. I'm dumb. Fus. (reading) Enter Egbert, musing — D//g. O. P. Fus. Pshaw ! what does that signify ? Dag. Not much— "The great globe itself—" Fns. (reading) Egbert musing. Clouded in night I come — Dag. (starting vp) " The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, " The solemn temples," &.c. &.c. Fiis. (gets up) Damme, he's mad ! a bedlam- DAGGERWOOD. H ite ! raves like a Lear, and foams out a folio of Shakspeare without drawing breath ; I am al- most afraid to stay in the room with him. Enter Servant. Oh, I'm glad you are come, friend! now 1 shall be delivered : your master would be glad to see me, I warrant? Serv. My master is gone out, sir. Fus. Gone out ! Dag. " Oh, day and night, but this is wond'- rous strange !" Fits. What, without seeing me, who have been waiting for him these three hours ! Dag, Three hours! pugh — I've slept here for five mornings in his old arm chair. Serv. He ordered me to tell you, gentle- men, he was particularly sorry— but he is obliged to hurry down to the Haymarket. The theatre opens this evening, and Mr. Bannister, Jan. and Mr. Suett, are to meet him there on particular business. Fus. They are ! and what the devil, friend, have I to do with Mr. Bannister, jun. ? Damn Mr. Bannister, jun ! Dag. And damn Mr. Suett! what the devil have I to do with Mr. Suett ? Now he hajf shirked us ; I'll lay you an even bet he has 5one to neither of them. Fus. Pretty treatment ! pretty treatment, truly! to be kept here half the morning, kick- ing my heels in a manager's anti-room, shut up with a mad Dunstable actor. Dag. Mad ! Zounds, sir ! I'd have yoa to 12 SYLVESTER DAGGERW^^. know that " when the wind's southerly, I know a hawk from a hand-saw." Fus. Tell your master, friend, tell your mas* ter but no matter ; he don't catch rae here again, that's all: damme, I'll go home, turn my play into a pageant, put a triumphal procession at the end on't, and bring it out at one of the winter theatres. [Exit. Dag. (