 | George De Barnwell |  |
20
Scene Fourth.
—A West-end Pawnbroker's Parlour behind shop—The three golden balls seen through window —“Money lent,” and other signs of business—Door, L. flat used.Enter the Uncle, reading newspaper.
Uncle.
Well, from these columns the stern fact I cull,
That, taken altogether, things are dull.
For, as Jack Gong observeth, in my line
“Things is werry much upon the decline”—
No student, now, I own it to my sorrow,
Takes to that interesting author “Borrow”—
No briefless barrister, who sporteth oak,
For coal makes free with his Black-stone or Coke—
No hard-up poet pining for a supper,
For a small trifle wildly spouts his Tupper—
Few now seek the assistance of the shop,
The very weasels have ceased going “pop.”
If things continue long to look so blue,
And business doesn't take a turn, I do;
And in the grounds of my surburban villa,
Of trade in order to steer clear, turn tiller,
With spade in hand plant flower, tree, and twig,
And thus enjoy my otium cum dig,
And never shrink from moderate expense
In wages, and in gardening implements,
Till gravelled, bedded, turfed, well smoothed and lawned,
Is this pawnbroker's garden in Balls pawn'd.
Song—“Old English Gentleman.”
I've got a villa out of town, a villa of two floors,
Approached by a new avenue of fine young sycamores,
With two brass plates, I decorates the bells at the front doors,
The one is labelled “Servants,” and the other “Visitors.”
Like a fine old British pawnbroker one of the modern time.
Approached by a new avenue of fine young sycamores,
With two brass plates, I decorates the bells at the front doors,
The one is labelled “Servants,” and the other “Visitors.”
Like a fine old British pawnbroker one of the modern time.
I've chandeliers that drop glass tears, and cost this child a few,
And carpets upon which I'm quite afraid to put my shoe,
And cart loads of fine furniture that smells extremely new,
For everything is redolent of happiness and glue.
At this fine old British pawnbroker's, &c.
And carpets upon which I'm quite afraid to put my shoe,
21
For everything is redolent of happiness and glue.
At this fine old British pawnbroker's, &c.
I've got a butler clad in black, it's evident to see,
Although he's heavy wages, that he don't think much of me,
I've got a foreign cook whose dishes with me disagree,
A fashionable doctor, too, whose homœopathee
Will kill this British pawnbroker, &c.
Although he's heavy wages, that he don't think much of me,
I've got a foreign cook whose dishes with me disagree,
A fashionable doctor, too, whose homœopathee
Will kill this British pawnbroker, &c.
Enter R. D. in flat, a hideous Shopboy.
Shopboy.
A lady, which her name she will not tell,
But which, I think, she is a tip-top swell—
Leastways, her manners is both proud and haughty—
Is in the shop.
Uncle.
Show up the female porty.
Exit Shopboy.
All soft roads to my heart must I Macadam,
The shopman's sternness summon. Walk in, madam!
Enter Milwood veiled, R. D. in flat.
I think I know her veil.
Milwood.
(R.)
If that's the case,
Then it's of no avail to hide my face. (removes her veil)
Uncle.
Your ladyship! Can I believe my eyes?
Milwood.
The fact is, I perceive, you advertise
To those who for a time hard up may be,
That you lend cash on good security,
And though my fortune's ample, some delay in
Collecting rents—my tenants all hate paying.
Uncle.
You to your uncle come for an advance
'Cos of the backwardness of your ten-ants.
Milwood.
Precisely—then the failure of a bank,
And the extravagant demands of rank
Compel me to—in short, to clear the case,
What will you lend me on this silk and lace?
The lace you see is point, and plenty of it.
Uncle.
The only point I look at, mum, is profit.
Of course a man must live, and there's you see,
Unfortunately, a good deal of me.
22
She seems to me to shun my observa-shun.
(aside)
Where did you get this lace?
Milwood.
From a relace-ion.
Uncle.
Impossible! I must repeat, mum, where?
This is Chantilly.
Milwood.
I shan't tellee, there!
Uncle.
This a case, mum—instantly I twigged it—
Of kleptomania—that's to say, you prigged it!
The label, see, of Thoroughgood and Co.
Milwood.
The label; it's a libel!
Uncle.
Oh, dear no.
You've given way, it's very plain to see,
My pretty lass, to petty larceny.
Where's the police! you're guilty and shall rue it;
I must call the police.
Milwood.
P-lease don't do it.
Upon my knees I fall.
Uncle.
(aside)
Which shows that she
Admits that it's a case of fell-on-knee.
Police! You've tasted pleasure, now you'll sup
Most bitter cup, and you must be took up.
Milwood.
Rather than that, I'll take a fatal “header.”
(going to window, L. in flat)
Uncle.
(aside)
I wonder wedder she would let me wed der!
Here goes. (aloud)
Your ladyship, say but the word,
And you're as free as any ocean bird;
If I make free 'tis but to make you free;
Your only chance, mum, is to marry me.
Milwood.
Villain! but no, the notion's too absurd;
Marry a pawnbroker! Upawn my word!
Pray recollect the distance 'tween us two,
I came to “pop” myself and not hear you.
Uncle.
Reflect; I've got a handsome modern willa,
A spacious cellar and no end of siller;
Mine is a rather enviable lot,
I keep a brougham and a chari-ot;
Be mine, they're yours; if not, a jail expect.
Milwood.
Oh, agony! time give me to reflect.
Uncle.
To-morrow morning, after breakfast—
Milwood.
Oui.
Oh never shall the sun that morrow see!
23
A very stoopid sort of thing 'twould be;
I, one of England's aristocra-cee!
'Tis here, but not engendered—George de B.
Shall help me from this ruffian to be free.
Duet.—“Nix my Dolly.”
Milwood.
In a box of the stone jug, highly born,
Lady Mil-wood would feel all forlorn;
Uncle.
Take away!
Milwood.
Goods I'd no right to was wrong, you'll say;
'Twas a case of what's termed kleptoma-nia!
Uncle.
Nix my dolly palls, take away, &c., &c.
Exeunt, R. door in flat.
| George De Barnwell | |