Our American Cousin, Tom Taylor [best color ereader .TXT] 📗

it was sweeter than sweet cider right out of the bung hole. Let me see how things stand round here. Thanks to old whiskers I’ve got that ship for the sailor man, and that makes him and Miss Florence all hunk. Then there’s that darned old Mr. Coyle. Well I guess me and old Murcott can fix his flint for him. Then there’s⁠—Looks off, L. Christopher Columbus, here comes Mary. Enter Mary, L. 1 E. Mary Mr. Trenchard, what can I say to you but offer you my lifelong gratitude. Asa Trenchard Don’t now, Miss, don’t⁠— Mary If I knew what else to offer. Heaven knows there is nothing that is mine to give that I would keep back. Asa Trenchard Give me yourself. Business. I know what a rude, ill-mannered block I am; but there’s a heart inside me worth something, if it’s only for the sake of your dear little image, that’s planted right plump in the middle of it. Mary Asa Trenchard, there is my hand, and my heart is in it. Asa Trenchard Seizes here hand, then drops it suddenly. Miss Mary, I made what folks call a big sacrifice for you, this morning. Oh! I know it, I ain’t so modest, but that I know it. Now what’s this you’re doing? Is this sacrifice you are making out of gratitude for me? Cause if it is, I wouldn’t have it, though not to have it would nigh break my heart, tough as it is. Mary No, no, I give myself freely to you⁠—as freely as you, this morning, gave my grandfather’s property to me. Asa Trenchard Say it again, last of hope and blessed promise. Clasps her in his arms. Mary, there’s something tells me that you’ll not repent it. I’m rough, Mary, awful rough, but you needn’t fear that I’ll ever be rough to you. I’ve camped out in the woods, Mary, often and often, and seen the bears at play with their cubs in the moonlight, the glistening teeth, that would tear the hunter, was harmless to them; the big strong claws that would peel a man’s head, as a knife would a pumpkin, was as soft for them as velvet cushions, and that’s what I’ll be with you, my own little wife; and if ever harm does come to you, it must come over the dead body of Asa Trenchard. Mary I know it Asa Trenchard; and if I do not prove a true and loving wife to you; may my mother’s bright spirit never look down to bless her child. Asa Trenchard Wal, if I don’t get out in the air, I’ll bust. Exit hastily R. 1 E. pulling Mary after him. Enter Mr. Binny, L. 1 E. Drunk. Mr. Binny Calling. Mr. H’Asa Trenchard, Mr. H’Asa Trenchard! Oh he’s gone; well, I suppose he’ll come back to keep his happointment. Mr. Coyle’s quite impatient. It isn’t hoften that han hamerican has the run of the wine cellars of Trenchard Manor, and in such company, too. There’s me and Mr. Coyle, which is a good judge of old port wine, and he knows it when he drinks; and his clerk, Mr. Murcott, which I don’t hexactly like sitting down with clerks. But Mr. H’Asa Trenchard wished it and Mr. Coyle hadn’t any objections, so in course I put my feelings in my pocket, besides, Murcott is a man of hedication, though unfortunately taken to drink. Well, what of that, it’s been many a man’s misfortune, though I say it, what shouldn’t say it, being a butler. But now to join my distinguished party. Exit, R. 1 E. Scene 3

Wine cellar in 3.

Mr. Coyle, Abel Murcott and Mr. Binny discovered. Table L., with two cups and bottles. Mr. Coyle L. of table, seated. Mr. Binny back of table. Abel Murcott sitting on barrel, R. Door in flat with staircase discovered, dark. Stage half dark. Candles on table, lighted. Mr. Coyle A capital glass of wine, Mr. Binny, and a capital place to drink it. Asa Trenchard Without. Bring a light here, can’t you. I’ve broken my natural allowance of shins already. Enters D. in F., down stairs. Asa Trenchard To Abel Murcott. Is he tight yet? Abel Murcott Histered, but not quite gone yet. Mr. Coyle Oh, Mr. Trenchard, glad to see you, to welcome you to the vaults of your ancestors. Asa Trenchard Oh! these are the vaults of my ancestors, are they? Wal, you seem to be punishing their spirits pretty well. Mr. Binny Wines, Mr. Asa Trenchard? The spirits are in the houter cellar. Mr. Coyle Oh, Mr. Asa Trenchard, there is no place like a wine cellar for a hearty bout. Here you might bawl yourself hoarse beneath these ribs of stone, and nobody hear you. He shouts and sings very loud. Asa Trenchard Oh, wouldn’t they hear you? Aside. That’s worth knowing. Mr. Binny Very drunk⁠—rising. That’s right, Mr. Coyle, make as much noise as you like, you are in the cellars of Trenchard Manor, Mr. Coyle. Mr. Coyle, bless you, Mr. Coyle. Mr. Coyle, why his hit Mr. Coyle, I am sitting at the present time, in this present distinguished company? I will tell you, Mr. Coyle, hit his because Hi always hacts and conducts myself has becomes a gentleman, hand Hi knows what’s due to manners. Falls in chair. Asa Trenchard Steady, old hoss, steady. Mr. Binny Hi’m steady. Hi always was steady. Staggers across to L. H. Hi’m going to fetch clean glasses. Exit, L. 3 R. Asa Trenchard Now, Mr. Coyle, suppose you give us a song. Mr. Coyle Very drunk. I can’t sing, Mr. Trenchard, but I sometimes join in the chorus. Asa Trenchard Wal, give us a chorus. Mr. Coyle Will you assist in the vocalization thereof? Asa Trenchard Mimicing. Will do the best of my endeavors thereunto. Mr. Coyle Sings. “We won’t go home till morning.” Repeat. Repeat. Falls off chair, senseless. Asa Trenchard Finishing the strain. “I don’t think you’ll go home at all.” Now, then, quick, Murcott, before the butler comes back, get his keys. Abel Murcott gets keys from Mr. Coyle’s pocket and throws them to Asa Trenchard.