Gass- \. Book ^"Ea \ A RACE FOR A DINNER, A FARCS, IN ONE ACT BY J. THOMAS G. RODWELL, ESQ, PRINTED FROM THE ACTING COPY, wiVh remarks biographical and critical— description ov thk f ostlme -cast of tlis charactehs - entrancfs and hxits— relative positions of the pehfokmers on the stage — and the whole of the stage business. As now performed at the NEW YORK THEATRE, BOWERY; AND THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN. NEJF YORK: Sold by WILL1AVI WHALE, 55 i-2 Bowery; and ELTON & PERK.iNS, 17 Divmoa street. 1829. REMARKS, A RACE FOR A DINNER. It is exceedingly barbarous to make sport of an empty sto- mach, seeing — " That hunger broke stone walls— that dogs must eat — That meat was made for mouths." Yet it is no uncommon thing to behold an audience flush from the delicacies of the table, bursting their well fed sides with laughter at a poor devil, who is made to endure all the tortures of Tantalus, and who volunteers the horrors of starvation, not for his own amusement but theirs. Now, for the life and soul of us, are we puzzled to find out what merriment can be extracted from ribs condemned to those masticatory privations to which the flesh, or rather the bone and skin of authors, are heir to. We could never discover any particular drollery in — " Hungry guts and empty purse ;" And that poet must be more^ lucky than the rest of his frater, nity -and in the daily receipt of double puts and pay, who exhibits, as a figure of fun, any man, gentle or simple, whom dire necessity compels lo 'un a race for a dinner Mr. Sponge has engaged the particular attention of dramatic writers— his movements are reported with an accuracy that may emulate the court circular Whether this notorious distinctioa has turned to his advantage or not, we (as Lord Grizzle observes) cannot positively tell ; but, as far as we can guess, we do know that Mr Sponge has deemed it expedient to give his appetite and wits the benefit of coimtry air; not for the purpose of sharpening either, but that they might receive the consideration alluded to by Hamlet— " And therefore, as a stranger, give 'em welcome." This farce is taken from that amusing little French piece* "Le Gastronome,^'' and exhibits Mr Sponge in a new light; ior" ere he can dine himself, he is absolutely obliged to cram a dinner down the throats of the first two gentlemen that shall fall in his REMARKS. way This part of the story is very whimsically managed ; the assumption of Mr, Dalton's name the unexpected difficulty of meeting with two people that can be compelled to swallow soups, a fowl, a beefsteak, a few tarts, a dessert, and a bottle of good wine the apropos arrival oi the real Mr. Dalton and his friend — the mutual reconnoitring; of the parties -Mr Sponge's pressing invitation to the two gentlemen top.irtake of their own dinner — the voracity of his appetite, tantalized by alternate interruptions of apology nd threat— his pathetic apostrophe to the 'Mast of the bperste:;k" his longing look at the departing merrythought ; though rather too highly colored, are extrav igantlv ludicrous. Spotige is a ver>ion of Jeremy Diddler, as Jeremy is of a dozen dr imatic gentlemen of th ■ p(ivt\ who have gone before him. Mr. L»oric, theamateui builder, and Mr Measuieton, his dandy architect, h ive nothing particular to recommend them— they are person^ of great pretention, and bad ta-te, the frequent repetition of -'/-ither in I'tw,^'' which the latter indulges in, adds not to the humoi of his cnaracter. It i« curious to observe how a poor devil, like Mr, Sponge, who, in real life, woold be elbowed out ol society, becomes not only tole^'able, but even agreeable, on the «tage; where a thread- bare coat is a -igual for niiith, and a hungry s-oraach convulses us with laughter. It i because i)is necessities are no tax upon ou'- generosity— that they ask neither our contributiou nor pity. Ve fan therefore atford to laugh, wh» n nothing moie is de- manded—aw some pious 'christians give their blessing, who will give nothing else "> e are too apt to derive a mischievoMS plea- sure from the vexatious disasters of others, jhe unexpected sally oi a bull info a china shop is an excellent good joke — 3)c.an Swift once, behoiding a bricklayer tumble tiirough the roof of a house that he was repairing, dryly remarked — that he liked to see a man go through his work cleverly D G. / STAGE DIRECTIONS. Exit? and Entiunces — K. means Right; L. Left; D. F Door in Fl t; H. D. Right Door; L D Left Door; S. E- Second Entranre; U E. Upper Entrance. ; M. U. Middle Door. Rel.iivk Positio\s.~H. menus Ri^ht; L. Left; C. Centre; R. C. Right of Centre ; L. C. Left of :enire. h. [U; (• LC. L. *** The reader is — pposed to be on the stage, facing the audience. COSTUME. Sponge. Dark green shabby surtout; buff pantaloons ; black gaiters and shoes ; an old hat. Doric. Light blue old gentleman's suit. Measureton. Blue coat, white waistcoat, and trousers. Feedwell. Brown coat and breeches; red waistcoat ; grey stockings. Frank. Blue coat, waistcoat, and trousers. Dalton. Drab surtout; white waistcoat; drab pantaloons; boots. LovELL. Blue surtout ; white trousers. Waiter. Blue coat; buff waistcoat ; blue trousers. Gammok. Blue coat ; red waistcoat ; buff breeches; boots. A* CAST OF THE CHARACTERS. N. F.MarcM 1,1829. Sponge . _ - - Mr Barret. Doric \ ^ retired merchant, excessively fond / pjgijgr * } of bu idiag. j ' Measureton, (an arcbitfct.) F*-edwpll, (an innkeeper ) Dalton, (a rich merchant ) Lovell, (friend to I'alton) Frank, (servant to Dalton.) Waiters, 6amuion, (a pretended bailiff.) Read. Hamilton; Lindsley. Sarzedas. Schinotti. Messrs. Jones & Beckwell. Barry, fiUf^H) A RACE FOR A DINNER. ACT I.— SCENE I. A romantic view. — On the l. side of the stage, a newly built mansion ; on the r., a tavern and tea gardens, with a hoard over the door, on which is written '^ Robert Feedwell, Dealer in Fo- reign Wines and Spirits. — N. B. Dinners dressed on the shortest notice." In the centre of the stage an arbor. On the rising of the cur- tainy Feedwell and Waiters enter from the housCj, R. s. E. Fee. Take care, there, fake care ! Mind you don't break the dishes, or spill the wine; this is the most particular dinner 1 ever had to provide in all my life. Wai. We shall be careful, sir. [Exeunt into tavern, r. s. e. Fee. This is the long-look'd-for day on which my former master, and now my near neighbor, Mr. Doric, gives his daughter in marriage to Mr. Measureton. the architect ; and purely as it would seem to me, because he has been seized himself with a mania for building. That house, which he seems almost to adore, is the first fruits of his sublime imagination. A queer concern, certain- ly ; but, however, he's a worthy man, and so his fcribles are excusable. However, it's a pity he b A RACE FOR A DINNER. had not been seized with a penchant forinnkeep ing — 1 should have made him a broth of a son- in-law ; but here he comes. Enter Mr. Doric, as if regarding his mansion, l. s. E ., with delight. Dor. (l) Well, Robert, how proceeds the din- ner? Fee. (r) Charmingly, charmingly, your honor. Dor. You \ we taken care that the wines are of the finest q lity ; my son-in law, Robert, is a man of extrac ^ary taste. Fee. He has given conyincing proofs of it, your honor. Dor. How, Robert? Fee. By the great love he shows for your daughter and my larder. Dor. But, more than all, by his talent for building — there's a specimen ! the prettiest thing in the county — f»oor fellow ! I thought he never would have finished it; but, however, he says it's the way with the profession ! Enter Measureton, from the mansion, l. s. e. Mea. (l) My dear father in- law, the company are waiting, your presence is expected. Dor. (c) I'm coming — but, apropos, do you know the news ? Mr. Daltoa has bought the manor house upon the hill. Fee. (r) What! Mr. Dalton, the rich merchant, who never dines with less than forty or fifty co- vers ! Mea. What ! the rich merchant, who is always building ? I wish I were his architect. A RACE FOR A DINNER; 9 Fee. And I had the serving of his table. Dor. They say he is a good and worthy man. Mea. But eccentric in the extreme. Dor. Well, well, if he employ his life in gain- ing an honest fortune, and that fortune in making others hap|)y, that man must be nice indeed who cannot pardon a few harmless eccentricities- Mea. Very true, fa)her-in-law ; but, as I was saying, the guests will arrive, and — Dor. And if they should arrive ten minutes too soon, you can show them over the house; let them see the grand saloon, and my new de- signs. I'll be bound we can amuse them- But come, neighbor, I will just pop into the kitchen, take a glance at the eatables, and then for the gut-sts. Fee, This way, your honor. [Exeunt into tavern, r. s. e. Enter Sponge, cautiously from the hack of the stage, L. u. E. Sponge. No dinner yet ! and nearly ten miles from New York. Alas ! tired of admiring, with an empty stomach, its museums, parks, streets, and cookshop windows, 1 have escaped from its smoke, which only seemed to increase my ap[)e- tite, and have come to try my tbrtune in the su- burbs. But the hour of dinner approaches, and not one invitation yet ! (music htard without in the mansion, l. s. e.) What! fiddling, dancing, and singing! Then the workmen em|)loyed in working the great road have not deceived me ; it is a wedding — a wedding, and 1 not in it ! 10 A RACE FOR A DINNER. They always have good dinners at weddings: 'tis there f pointing to the mansion) that Hymen lights his mighty torch, and there (sinelling, and pointing to the tavern) the cook lights his mighty torch, (looking in at the tavern window) If there an't the most beautiful ribs of beef I ever beheld. Oh ! oh ! that I had a rib of it, were it only a short rib, but mine are all spare (s})ayj ribs. Be- fore we decide on the method of attack, let us just look into \}\e state of affairs, friend Sponge. (feeling his pockets) Nothing there—nothing there— nothing there — (feeling his stomach) no- thing there; and, in fact, nothing every where; and, unfortunately, this is a country in which no- thing is to be had for nothing. But who comes here — white gloves and a nosegay — oh, some one concerned in the wedding. Enter Doric, from the tavern^ r. s. e. What a fine figure to work upon; yes, yes, we'll dine together. Dor, There, there, not yet ready — I'm sure the guests must be quite impatient, (looking at the house) It's astonishing what an effect my build- ing produces at this distance ; never was such a piece of architecture in this world ! How beau- tiful the coach gates, and the two posts : then the coach houses, the pum{), the laundry, and the lard- er, all in the forecourt. It's really a little palace. Sponge, (aside) Oh, you're there, are you — this is the pro{)rietor- Dor. (r) Provided that coaches don't lose their wheels in going in, that gate is delightfully nar- A RACE FOR A DINNER « 11 row. I shall never leave off admiring it. Eh ! what's that fellow about ? [Sponge looks attentively at the house^ and appears every now and then to write with a pencil in a small pocket book. Sponge, (l) Suppose we say 23 feet — 23 — that will bring us there ; we put the dining room into the kitchen Dor, What! Sponge. The laundry into the pantry, and the nursery into the cellar. Dor, Why, he's turning ray house out of Avin- dow ! Sponge. We put that back some ten feet, and we shall have a straight line. [Doric interrupting him, Spons:e makes signs with his hand for him not to approach^ and continues writing in his hook. Dor. Sir, sir, might I take the liberty of inqui- ring what you're about with that house ? Sponge. A thousand pardons, sir; I had not the pleasure of seeing you before. I am the survey- or general of the county, employed at present in conducting the works of the new road. Dor. (r) And pray what has the new road to do with that house ? Sponge, (l) Ah ! I see you're not acquainted with the new plan. It is now determined to con- tinue the new road in a line with the Thames, up to that point; we then cut horizontally, you see, in that direction, (^pointing through the house. Dor. The devil! why that wiU take away one side of my house ! 12 A RA.CE FOR A DINNER. Sponge. Without doubt, and the work must be begun tomorrow. Dor. And you think I shall suffer you to knock dow n my house so easily, do you ? Spotis^e. What, sir! does that house belong to you ? I'm quite distressed. However, it's not the intention ol' parliament to injure any private person, and there is certainly one comfort — we only want about 23 feet for which you will be paid ; nd all the remainder of the Iiouse is your own, which you will then find in the middle of of the great road ; the dust may be rather incon- venient at first, perhaps, but I have no doubt you will consider it an improvement on the whole. Dor. An imjirovement ! nonsense! why, you'll leave my house without either doors or windows. Sponge. By which you will save the taxes. Dor. What ! cut away that beautiful front, that triumi'hof the art — what an event! and in such a time — on my daughter's wedding day I Sponge, f aside J How the father of the bride! happy rencontre! (aloud) I'm really grieved that my duly com})els me to intrude ujuin you, aud^ on a vvj^dding day too, perhaps at the very mo- ment you were going to sit down to dinner. Dor. It's distressing; but tell me Mr. Survey- or General, are there no means by which it might be avoided ? Sponge, (musing) H«^m ! it's a very delicate affair 1 nt ? Dor. Cerlainly. (crosses to l) IMiis fellow with his 23 feet, has put me quite in a flurry. How- ever, with all his new roads, he shan't find his way to my dinner table, thou^b. [Exit to mansion, l. s. e. Spons^e. Hang his dinner (able ! (aside J How- ever, there's no time to be lost. Sir, sir, you are Mr. Measu.eton, an architect of distinguish- ed talent to whom my worthy friend, Mr. Doric, has at last obtained for me the gratification of an introduction Oh, mny our fortune be ce- mented as firmly and continue as lasting and as pure, as the edifices of your immortal construc- tion, (aside J Bravo ! I'll stick to him like bricks and mortar. Mea. (l) Sir, I really scarcely know how to eredit those raptures. Sponge, (r) How strange you don't know me; but i know you, there'b the difference : you're established, you're a husband, you've married a beautiful and charming woman — Mea. Not so verjc beautiful — merely decent, to say the best of her. Sponge. But then I look to character. Mea. And what of her character ? Spons:e. Go, go, you're too modest— at least, she's rich. B^ 18 A RACE FOR A DINNER. Mea. AVhy, pretty so so, for the matter of that. Sponge. Then she is charming indeed ! {aside) You have prepared every thing to celebrate the wedding ? The invitations, the bridecakes, the bridesmaids, fiddles, flutes, horns. Mea. Horns! Sponge. Yes, yes — herns, you know, French horns — you understand me. f mutates blowng a horn) .And> in fact, you fancy you have thought of every thing — well, it's thus we decieve our- selves — there is one thing yuu have forgotten. Mea Not that 1 rem< mber. Sponge. 1 dare say not — no, you don't recol- lect that which you have forgotten. Where is the occasional ode — where is the song of love, in which the soul is to pour forth its heaven lelt raptures in soft poetic strains ? [Looking at a rent in his dress, Mea. Right. 1 have no occasional verses yet, though I have been poring over the Little War- bier full two hours, in hopes of finding some. Sponge. A wedding without a soug! thrit will never do; and think what a picture, when, after dinner, a good hearty dinner, as we sit at the dessert, you rise—silence prevails, " hush, hush," is heard from every quarter, and the guests re- peat to each other, in a whisper, "the bride- groom is going to sing ;'' then succeds a more im- pressive silence, and you modestly pull out of your right hand breeches pocket an amatory po- em, written on gilt edged vellum paper, filled with grace, energy, and tenderness — A RACE FOR A DINNER. J9 Mea. But where am I to find such a poem ? Sponge, There is the occasion of my visit— I have thou«4ht seriously of your embarassment, and, without lettins; you know a word about it, I have written the said verses, which 1 now brino: to you. Mea. How ! you have taken the trouble, and wilhout t ven knowing me? Sponge. Oh, I'm much more your friend than you think me; but I reckoned on coming wilh- out ceremony, and announcing myself, perhaps, just at (he moment dinner was on the table. Ah, it is in those moments that a man finds out his real friends. Mea. I must confess to you I never met with such attention in my life. Sponge. Don't be astonished — it's a recreation — it's meat and drink, to me. I'm delighted with the wedding ol love, and the sight of a wedding [aside J dinner] is enough to set me on fire. Oh, it's a day of love and pleasure! How delightful the bustle of the morning, the coming of the bridegroom, the arrival of friends, the welcoming of the parson, the hugging of relations whom one never saw before, the kissing of the bride, the call to dinner, the dinner itself, the dessert, the wine, the tea, the ball ; but that's not all ! then the de- lights of the bridegroom, and the modesty of the bride; then comes the supper; no one can eat excepting me (aside). Then the nods and winks of the gentlemen, and the blushing of the ladies, and then; and then — (aside) but I must not go 20 A RACE FOR A DINNER. any further, or he^Il forget the dinner ("crosses to l) You see I understand my subject, and there are some few of the ideas I have attempted to throw into the verses 1 have written for the occa- sion, and here they are. f^ives him a paper) No, no — I beg your pardon those are some lines on a baptism; they'll do a few months hence (i^ivcs him another J There it is — it's set to a beautiful air, but that need not embarrass you, for I know every tune from Hail Columbia to Yankee Doo- dle; and I shall be by your side to encourage you, and give you the key note. Mea. And you have written them expressly for me ? I'm delighted ! though 1 renlly believe it's the first time that verses were written ex- pressly ior the marriage of an architect. Sponge, Listen, it begins thus : " On Richmond Hill there lives a lass More bright than May day morn, Whose charms all other maids surpass, ^ ' A rose without a thorn. *' This lass so nent, with smiles so sweet, Has won mj' rigiit good will — I'd crowns resign to call hei mine, bweet lass of Richmond Hill." Mea. (r) Do you know, I'm afraid I've heard something bke that before ? Sponge, (l) Oh no, never — you're mistaken-— I wrote it expressly for the occasion. You see the locality struck me, an(i — Mea. Well, it's a very singular coincidence. [Opens his bookj and repeats the second verse. A RACE FOR A DINNER, 21 " Ye zephyrs gay that fan the air, And wanton through the grove, Oh whisper to my charming fair, I die for her I love. *' This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet, Has won my right good will — I'd crowns resign to call her mine, Sweet lass of Richmond Hill." [^Measureton laughs. Sponge. Damn the Little Warbler! to think I should hit upon nothing but that. Mca. Ha, ha, ha ! I'm exceedingly obliged to you for the trouble you have taken on my ac- count, but you and your muse had better beat a retreat, unless you wish that the retreat should be beaten on your back. When you have any new occasional verses, (crosses to l) I'll listen to them; but pray don't pop in just as the dinner's put upon the table, '* for it is in those moments a man finds out his real friends;" ha, ha, ha! Well, one thing 1 will say for you — Sponge. And what's that ? Mca. That you look like a poet, at all events/ [Exit into house, l. s. e. laughing. Sponge, (feeling his stomach J And 1 unfortu- nately feel like one, too. I hope that fellow will die of a suneit, for his insolence. Now, fortune, thou art a jilt, indeed-— to think that fellow should have the very book in his pocket from which I co|)ied those verses this morning! Five o'clock by my watch — no, I mean by my appe- tite. Now they are seating themselves at table, and I not among them — I'll abandon the place. Oh, my genius ! Oh, my appetite ! Inspire me, 22 A RACE FOR A DINNER. both of ye. Choking off, l) Eh, who comes (his way ? [Conceals himself behind the arbor. Enter Frank, l. Frank, Landlord ! Landlord ! Fee. Centering from tavern, r. s. e.) What do you please to want ? Frank. Vve come to order dinner for my mas- ter and two of his friends. Sponge, (aside) More happy people going to dine ! Fee. What will they please to have ? Frank. Some of your best wine, soups, beef- steaks, a fine fowl, a salad, a lew tarts, and every thing for three persons. Sponge, (apart) Bless me, he says nothing about cheese ! Fee. (r) It shall be all right, (calling) A fowl on the spit directly — but you are quite certain that your master will come? Frank, (l) In order to make your mind easy about it, I am ordered to pay you in advance : how much will it come to ? Fee. Let me see — soup for three, beefsteaks for three, a fine fowl, a few tarts, a dessert, and three bottles of the best wine. Two pounds ten. Sponge, (aside) Lord, what a sum ! enough to last me in dinners for a month. Frank. Well, welK here it is; but you must not forget that, as master pays without drinking, the servant drinks without paying. It is 1 who advised master to come to your house. We have come to live hard by, and it's our custom to pay well. A RACE FOR A DINNER. 23 Fee. May I be permitted to know who I have the honor of speakinor to ? Frank, (l c) Ah! 1 see we are not known yet; I am Mr. Francis, valet rie chambre to Mr. Dalton, the rich merchant. Fee. (r c) l>lr. Dalton! bless my soul — Mr. Dalton coming to dine at my house! It's an honor that I shall be proud of — drink whatever you like gratis; but, praj^ when may 1 expect Mr. Dalton to come ? Frajik. In ahout an hour, more or less. Fee. Every thing shall be ready, and, depend upon it, Mr. Francis, I shall not lorget your kindness. Frank. And depend upon it, if you do, I shall not fail to remind you of it. [Exeunt Franks l. and Feetlwell, into tavern, r. s. e. Spmge comes from his concealment. Spons^e. All the world will dine today except me. The occasion is propitious. Fortune in- vites me, and if I don't accept of it, it will be the first invitation I ever refused in mj' life. I must dine. The proprietor of the dinner will not arrive in less than an hour; yet, if I under- stand right, he may come sooner, On one side prudence, and on the other a consideration no lest powerful, (feeling his stomach) Every thing warns me to hasten the execution. Hollo, wait- er! Landlord! (reckoning his fing€;s) Mr. Dal- ton, a merchant, paid in advance — soups, fowl, beefsteaks, tarts, dessert, &c. Heavens ! what a fine memory fasting gives me. 24 A KACE FOR A DINNER. Enter Feedwell, from houses r. s. e. Fee. (r) Who calls? Sponge, (l) What, sir, can't you guess ? How- ever, when we take the trouble to order in ad- vance, every thing is neglected. I see how it is; that careless fellow, Frank, has done nothing Tight, and so every thing's wrong. Fee, (aside) Oh, this is Mr. Dalton; now who would take him to be a rich merchant — but they told me he was very eccentric. Sponge, (aside) He bites — and so shall I pre- sently. Fee. Mr. Dalton, a thousand pardons — you shall not wait an instant, though your servant told me you would not arrive in less than an hour. Sponge. He was a fool. In the first place, I'm always in a hurry, and for that reason he has paid you in advance. Fee. Yes, he has, sir. Sponge. I hope he did not forget to tell you what I wished to have for dinner. Fee. (thinking) No, sir, no, sir; three bottler of the best wine, soup, a fowl, beefsteaks. Sponge. A few tarts, and a salad. He did not say any thing about cheese, did he ? Fee. Not a word. Sponge. No, damn him; he neier eats any himself: and take care that the wine is nice and Old — I like old wines. Fee. (aside) I wish he liked old women, and would take. my wife away. Sponge In my opiaiou, antiquity gives a va« lue to e^ery thing. A RACE FOR A DINNER. 25 Fee (looking at his clothes) Then, in your opi- niorii what a valuable wa-drobeyou must poisSfss. Sponge. None of your threailbare jokes, fel- low — but Iv^t me have the dinner directly. t'ee. The dinner's mH reaily, and I'il serve it Ujr) the momfni your two friends arrive. [Qoin^ r. Sponge, (aside) Oh, the devil, I had forgotten my tv\o friends; 1 was making a pret'y hlunder — a dinner ordered for three. I don't doubt but I could eat it all myself, but that won't do — (aloud) Thiy can't be lono:. Fee. Then, in the meintime, I'll lay the cloth in the litt'e parlor — ii's the best room in the house. Sponge. The parlor! why the parlor? I'm tired of parlors. That arbor is the very {>lace In the o "en air one has a much better aj>j;etite (aside) And il's much easier to run away. Fee. Viu afraid you'll find ii very cold in the arbor. ' Sponge. So that the dinner'^s hot, never mind; and, i say landlord, though the dinner's only ordered for three, let there be plentj', a sutficien- cv for five or six. (aside) I'll put some in my pocket for tomorrow. 1 shall reward you for your trouble. Fee. 1 have no doubt of it, your honor. [Exit Fcedwcll, into house, r. s. e. Sponge. 1 have. Thai Jellovv's like me; he's ready to swallow any thin^ — and 1 never wish to think of those two unhicky tViendg — 'ne al- ways forgets something 1 i»u»t have two, but C 26 A RACE FOR A DINNER. where to find them ? Why, the first that come — one can always find two friends to dine with us. Oh, if I were in such a situation ! How strange to th nk, at last, instead of wanting a dinner, I should want friends to eat one. Let me see, is there any one coming on the great road ? (looking out, r.) No, there's only a man at work in his shirt sleeves ; he won't do — not that Vm proud, but decorum, decorum forbids. Well, well, they must be found, and the first two decent people that I meet with I'll take by the collar; and, if they won't dine with me, damn it, I'll cram it down their throats. Hollo.! holloa, there ! [Exit, r. Enter Dalton and Lovell, l. Lov. (l c) In truth, Dalton, 1 admire your happy disposition — you are contented with every- thing. Dal. (r c) That is what I call true philosophy. Lov. But what, my dear Ualton, can have in- duced you to take this serious resolution of di- ning abroad, today, and leaving Mrs. Dalton to her own meditations? Dal. You shall know: sitting last night with my brother-in-law and a few friends the con- versation happened to turn on the delights of matrimony, on which it whs observed I had ne- ver diued out of my wife's company since we were marri^^d ; on which 1 jokingly said, then I'll dine away tomorrow. I was laughed at by my friends, and defied by my wife: in the end, a foolish wager was made, in which my wife and A RACE FOR A DINNER. 27 ill present joined, that T did not accomplish so Iredoubtable an affair, and, beioe determined to i win the WHger, I have escaped this morning with jthe full determination ot dining with you and my friend Thompson; he unfortunately cannot be af the party, but as I have appetite enough for two, we shall be all even. This, I presume, is jto be the point of attack — I sent forward Francis to reconnoitre the premises and prepare the eat- oIo- gise. [Sponge hurries off the peasants, l. u e. and attempts to seat himself], l. at the table, but Doric slop-^ him and forces him back.] Mr. Dal- ton ! Mr. Dalton ! Sponge. Another interruption. Dor. One word. Sponge. One mouthful ! I have no time. Dor, You must excuse me, but I cannot per- mit you to leave me, until you suffer me to apo- logise for my rudeness this morning. Sponge. My dear sir, apologise another time. [Eyitcr Measureton from house, l. s. e. rvith a, napkin and spoon in his hand. Mea. Why, father-in law, how strangely you leave us. Dor. [Making signs rvith his hand for him to retire^ Directly, [to Sponge, whom he still holds] No, no — you must not escape, an(i, after all, you fibsolutely must take a family dinner with us. Sponge, Wheu once a man don't want a din» 32 A RACE FOR A DINNER. ner» how provokiogly pressing: people are. My dear sir, 1 wonli! dine with you with the greatest phasnre, but [lookmg at the lahle] at this mo- ment I have invited two friends, two particular friends, whom 1 could not leave at this moment for 'he world ! See, see, they are beckoning; to me. [looking at the table] Ah, there goes the last of the beefsteak ! Hor. [still holding him] Tomorrow, Mr. Dal- ton — Sponge. Tomorrow I'm engaged. Dor. Then the day after. Sponge. I'm engaged. Dor. May I hope on Thursday, then ? Sponge. On Thursday I'm your? — I shall at- tend, and with a good appetite, [aside] But ia this moment of dreadful suspense — Dor. It's agreed, then — I shall expect you. [Exit Doric, into his house, l. s. e. ; Measureton^ who has beeen lookins; on, runs to Sponge^ and seizes him by the button hole. Mea. My dear sir, pardon the freedom I made use of this morning, but, upon (ny soul, I did not know you. Sponge. My dear sir, don't mention it, but have the kindness to leave me. There goes the merry thought. Mea. No, no; my father-in law had the start of me in engaging you for Thursday, but I hope that on Friday — Sponge. On Friday be it, and let that settle it. Ah, the fowl's all gone ! [Takes his hat off, and A RACE FOR A DINNER. 33 putting it on Mcasuretonh head, presses it over his eyes. He goes into house^ l. s. e. Sponiiey in a paroxysm, Uars himself away, catches the napkin out of Mcasuretonh hand tucks it under his chin, and runs to the table.'] Another minute, and the aff ;ir would have been serious indeed, [looking over the table] It appears that you have not been idle, gentlemen. Fortunately, I am accusto- med to eat quick, ami shall soon overtake you. Dal. Clean plaie, waiter t waiter, a clean plate ! Sponge. Oh, never mind me, a dirty one will do. I like plenty of gravy [Sehes Dalton^s plate. Enter Gammon, l. Gam. Pray, is there one Mr. Dalton any where here ? [Dalton, it. points to Sponge l ] I beg your pardon, [to Sponge] hut I wish to speak a word with you, if you please, on an affair of the great- est imf»ortance. Sponge. My dear ft How, another time, ano-^ Iher time : at the [present moment it's impossible. [to Dalton, who is again helping himself.] Sir, sir, you'll die of an indigestion, [asidt] He takes care that I !^han't, though, [to Gammon, who is grow- ing impatient] Now, now, don't be so trouble- some — don't you see the dinner? Gam. Yes, and the business I've come about is concernins: the dinner. Sponge. What can your business have to do with my dinner? Gam. You'll know that soon enough. Sponge. [calli7ig] Waiter, some more beef- 34 A RACE FOR A DINNER. steak ! [Gatnm&n pulls Sponge hy the sleeve] Why, in the name of famine, have you such an objec- tion to my putting a bit of any thing in my mouth ? Gam. Explanation is unnecessary. I have orders to take your person 1 shall be sorry to employ force, bnt, if necessary, I have assist- ance at hand. Sponge. This all comes of taking people's names we know nothing of. [aside] I thought it im{ios- sible to have hit upon a more dangerous one than my own. Gam. Come, come, I must take you to prison. Sponge Only wait till I get a bit of dinner, and you may take me any where. [Gafnmon is pulling him away] This will never do — I think it will be more prudent to declare the truth — a word in your ear. [}Vhispers in G^s ear. Gam. What! then, after all, you are not Mr. Dalton. Sponge. No, my name is Sponge, at your ser- vice — happy to dine with you any day after Fri- day. I am not the rich man, upon my honor; but you should have known that by my appetite. Gam. Sir, I have to ask you a thousand par- dons — it's true I was to arrest Mr Dalton, but, bless your soul, it was all a sham; I'm no officer — I was only employed to force him to dine at the manor house, with his wife and friends. Sponge. Was it only that, after all ? Oh, that I could only persuade him that I was his priso- ner again ! LL-.OV A RACE FOR A DINNER. 35 Gam. You see they had laid a wager — DaL [Jumping up] Which they have lost, for my dinner's ended, [allstart.'} Yes, yes, it was very ingenious, but you have arrived a little too late. My name's Dalton, and my dinner's ended. Sponge. Your name Dalton! Then who the deuce ami? I'm nobody. Dal. However, we will repair home [crosses to L.] for the dessert, and regale our friends with the adventures of the morning. Waiter, tooth- picks ! As for you, my dear Amphytrion, we heartily thank you for your kind invitation, and we hope you will not forget ouis. [Exeunt l. Sponge. You may depend upon me — I shall get no dinner till then, that's clear. [As Sponge is musing, the waiter comes and offers him a tooth- pick — the other waiter clears the tablCy &c.'\ What the deuce is (his ? Wait. A toothpick. Sponge. A toothpick ! [kicks the waiter off^ r.] This the height of derision. Then it appears that every body has dined but me. ^y the event, however, I have made a good week of it ; let me see, theie are dinners for [counting his fingers] Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, but nothing as yet, decisive for today. [looks towards the table] They have cleared away the things, [Jeeling his pockets] &n6 I have not the means of enticing them to a second appear- ance. But, if there be among all my friends present, any one who dines late, very late, and who has the least iuteotion of inviting me home 36 A RACE ^'OR A DINNER. with him, I beg he will not put himself out the way on my account — I am [jerlectly at an one's service; but, if I should not be happj enough to meet with an invitation tor today, . hope 1 shall be more fortunate when I next star *• A Race for a Dinner." D is^osition of the Characters at the fall of the Curtain, B.] C. [l. gPONGE. THE END. 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