Hob, (leaning over Nob's shoulder.) A lady's got out. Nob. There's no mistaking that majestic person — it's Penelope Ann! Hob. Your intended! Nob. Yours! Hob. Yours! Nob. Hark! she's coming up stairs. Mr. B. (without.) Mr. Hob! Mr. Hob! Hob. I've just stepped out! Nob. So have I. Mr. B.. (entering L.) It's only me- Mr. Bouncer. Mr. B. Gone,--and she's left a note for Mr. Hob. Hob, (taking it. Exit Mr. Bouncer.) Goodness gracious! Nob, (snatching letter.) Gracious goodness! (Hob snatches letter and runs forward, followed by Nob.) Hob, (reading.) "Dear Mr. Hob, pardon my candor "-Nob, (looking over and reading.) "But being convinced that our feelings, like our ages, do not reciprocate,” Hob. Nob. Hob. Nob. "I hasten to apprize you of my immediate union ""With Mr. Bob." Huzza! Three cheers for Bob! Ha, ha, ha! Mr. B., (putting his head in L.) The little second floor back room is quite ready. Hob. I don't want it. Nob. No more do I. Hob. What shall tear us asunder? Nob. What shall part us? Hob. Nob! Nob. Hob! (About to embrace; Nob stops, seizes Hob's hand, and looks eagerly in his face.) You'll excuse the apparent insanity of the remark, but the more I gaze on your features, the more I'm convinced that you 're my long lost brother. Hob. The very observation I was going to make to you! Nob. Ah! tell me, in mercy tell me! have you such a thing as a strawberry mark on your left arm? Nob. Then it is he! (They rush into each others arms.) Hob. Of course, we stop where we are. Nob. Of course. Hob. For, between you and me, I'm rather partial to this house. Nob. So am I. I begin to feel quite at home in it. Nob. Agreed. There's my hand upon it; (to audience,) join but yours, agree that the house is big enough to hold us both, then Nob — Hob. And Hob Hob and Nob. Are satisfied. REMARKS. The part of Carlitz should be performed in a serio-comic manner; that of Renslaus gruffly, in the style of a soldier long used to move and speak with trained precision; Brandt has but to take a waiter at a country inn for his model. The part of Christine requires great delicacy in personation. It is presumed that but few females are incapable of understanding the feelings of a young maiden in her situation, and consequently there will be but little difficulty in finding a competent personator. SCENE. A. Garden. On R. H., a post with a sign upon it, "Good Entertainment for Man and Horse;" a table and two chairs on stage at back, in c. As curtain rises, Brandt comes from R. and busies himself arranging table. Renslaus, (speaking outside.) March on to the barracks, comrades! I shall halt here. (Enters, carrying a musket and knapsack.) Where's the landlord, waiter? Why don't he run out to catch customers, as he's in duty bound to do? Hey, lad! how dare he send such a ninny as you to represent his dignity? Brandt. There's no landlord, sir, and mistress is busy with a party. Rens. So much the better for her. Attention! Bring me an excellent breakfast; and send me your mistress for company: I've something to say to her. Brandt. I beg your honor's pardon; but perhaps mistress would like to know your honor's name. Rens. Renslaus, the soldier. Rens. What more would you have? The name of soldier and a countryman should be a passport any where. Quick step! forward! march! (Exit Brandt R., Renslaus giving him a tap with the butt of his gun.) No bar maid? No! My heart beats! ay, ten chances to one but poor little Christine's gone! At any rate, the landlady can give me some clue. Ouf! tolerable marching this. Ten leagues before breakfast over the mountains! But we've no right to complain: the enemy we pursue keeps ahead of us for all that; and though we gave 'em now and then a few shots, by way of "how are you to-day," the unmannerly knaves wouldn't so much as turn to say, "Very well, I thank you." (Takes off his knapsack, and sets it away one side.) For the first time in my life, my luggage seems heavy. Those villainous bank-notes, no doubt; such things never before straggled into my knapsack. Poor Colonel! I think I see him yet, stretched wounded upon the field of battle! "Renslaus," exclaimed he, "I have long been alone in the world I'm now quitting, and I must n't make the foe my heir. Take this pocket-book! Zounds! these bits of paper are not what I stand in need of; but cartridges, boy, cartridges!" From that hour, I've never fired a cartridge at the enemy; but I told 'em, "Here, you scoundrels, here's a billet-döux from my poor dead Colonel!" Well, well! though the weight of cash is rather new to me, yet I get on under it more gaily than ever; for I now meet the unfortunate with a different feeling from what I used to have, conscious that I possess not only a sword for their protection, but a purse for their miseries. Enter CHRISTINE from R., speaking as she enters. Chris. Renslaus, did he say? Renslaus, the soldier? Bless my heart! Where? where? Rens. Ay, come at last. 'Twas almost time. (Turns.) I say, land-(starting.) Christine! Chris. (running to him.) Oh, Renslaus! how glad I am to see you. Rens. (faltering.) Christine! (Turns aside.) Zounds! what ails my eyes? (Aloud.) Christine? (Aside.) Where's voice? I can't, I can't- (Runs up and shakes hands. with her.) How are you, Christine? my Chris. When they told me your regiment was coming across the country, I said to myself, I'm sure we shall see him, or have a letter, at least, I'm sure. I hope you mean to stop awhile? Rens. Two hours, at most-only to take breath. Then buckle on your knapsacks, shoulder your muskets, and away! We soldiers are obliged to forget our friendship at the roll of the drum, and to force as much love as we can into the little time we get between marches. Then comes the drum 'rum-'rum! Good-by to love! farewell to friendship, and off we go. Chris. Don't your wound trouble you in these forced marches? Rens. Not in the least, pet. You took too good care to cure it for me. I should have been obliged to quit the post but for you, Christine; and when I remember how, for one whole month --- |