J. Stirling Coyne

“ GREEN. Stop! destroyer of my peace, and confounder of my identity—stop, and hear me! Young woman retire.
Exit BETSY into room, L. 2 E., with one candle.
Hem! now, sir, I shall ask you one momentous question—Do you mean to stick to it that you’re Greenfinch?
MRS. G. Stick to it?—oh! aw—like demned wax.
GREEN. (solemnly) The world’s a cage, not wide enough for two Greenfinches like us; one of us must hop the perch.
[Pg 14]
MRS. G. Exactly, my good fellow; I shall dispose of you immediately—my pistols are in the next room. (going)
GREEN. Stop! We must fight in this apartment. ”

“ MRS. G. (confronting him) Mr. Greenfinch! Sir! Will you look at me and repeat you don’t know me?
GREEN. (uneasily) Hem! ah! (aside) I feel the Countess has her eye upon me—I’m a dead man if I give way. (to MRS. G.) I tell you I haven’t the slightest knowledge of you. (goes to table)
MRS. G. (aside to BETSY) This is going beyond a joke, Betsy—the man’s quite serious—looks in my face and denies me.
BETSY. Yes, mum; and means to stick to it.
MRS. G. (aside to BETSY) Does he? Mr. Greenfinch! (taking hold of him) you’d better mind what you are doing—I’m not a woman to be trifled with. ”

“ Hey! Death and Glory, old fellow! You’re a dead shot, Greenfinch!
GREEN. What! you’re cousin Charley yourself!
MRS. G. Of course I am! It was a plan of Betsy’s and mine to punish you—the pistols were loaded with powder—the Gendarme is only the waiter, (WAITER bows and exit, 3 E. L.) and as no harm has been done——
BETSY. I hope, sir, you’ll forgive me?
GREEN. Forgive you! I’m so happy I’ll forgive the whole world!
(to the Audience) Pity the failings of a poor young man,
Whose trembling tongue——
MRS. G. Pray hold it—if you can! ”

“ BETSY. Ah, mum, I know what husbands is made of! I was once accidentally married myself for three weeks to a sea cap’n, who took me, mum, as his mate—but I diskivered I was only his second mate, for he’d got another wife alive, mum—and so he slipped hisself through the wedding ring that way. Oh! mum, husbands isn’t to be trusted no ways.
MRS. G. ’Twas your experience and advice, Betsy, that put me upon this plan of trying Mr. Greenfinch’s fidelity. Before he went to Paris about that legacy left him by his aunt, there wasn’t a more dutiful little husband in Peckham Rye. ”

“ BETSY. (apart) There’s brandy in it, mum; not madness.
MRS. G. (apart to BETSY) It won’t do to irritate him now. (to GREENFINCH) My dear Gregory, of course ’tis all a joke. (coaxingly) You remember me—your dotey little wife—your lovey dovey? [Pg 11] Why don’t you speak to your own pidgey-widgey, and give her a toosey-woosey kiss?
GREEN. (aside, and turning away) Oh! this is too much for a husband’s feelings! (to MRS. G.) Don’t please—don’t talk that way; you don’t know me; I’m a domestic fiend—doomed for a certain time to walk this earth in patent leather boots. Farewell, farewell for ever! ”

“ MRS. G. Come, sir, you shall take one and leave me the other.
GREEN. Thank you. (feels the pistol; aside) The touch of them throws me into a cold perspiration! I wish I knew which was the mildest of the pair.
MRS. G. Well, have you made your choice?
GREEN. No—yes—there—this will do! (takes one of the pistols, MRS. G keeps the other. Apart) Oh, lord, my heart’s in my wellingtons!
MRS. G. Are you ready now?
GREEN. No—no—no—not yet! let’s take our time! do you think a human being should be shot with as little ceremony as a sack of coals? ”

“ BETSY. (peeping in at door, R.) Is he gone, mum?
MRS. G. Yes, Betsy, you may come in. (lays the basket she carries on table, L. and puts up her veil)
BETSY. (enters by door, R.) Well, mum, does he suspect nothing yet?
MRS. G. Nothing. He has not yet seen my face—but if he had, I think this red wig, these spectacles, and this cravat would completely prevent his recognizing me.
BETSY. He little thinks, mum, ’tis his own lawful wife he’s running away with instead of a fine foreign Countess. ”

“ Perhaps, Countess, you are not aware that there’s a previous Mrs. Greenfinch at this moment on the British shores; a splendid woman, though I say it, who sits like a pensive dove mourning for her absent mate at Peckham Rye. ”

“ GREEN. Well now this is something like an adventure. (putting down the umbrella and bandbox, R.) There’s a romantic mystery attached to me that I can’t unravel, in fact I feel myself like a tangled penn’orth of thread; the more I try to clear myself the more complicated I become. Let me calmly consider my singular position. (throws the cloak on the easy chair, R. and places the carpet bag beside it) In the first place here I have arrived at the Hotel d’ Angleterre in Dieppe accompanied by the Countess de Rambuteau—a real Countess! ”

“ GREENFINCH’S head sinks on the trunk.
MRS. G. Que faites vous ici, mon cher Grinfeench?
GREEN. Oh! Countess, we’re lost.
MRS. G. Ha! perdu! Ave de poliss come?
GREEN. No, but my wife has. See here! (reads address on trunk) “Mrs. Greenfinch, Passenger to Paris.” That’s her writing after six lessons. (in a suppressed voice) I know she’s somewhere in the vicinity of this brown leather trunk.
MRS. G. (coolly) Eh bien! you know that a man can have but one wife at one time. ”

“ Who is this person who has been exciting himself so enormously?
BETSY. I’m sure I don’t know, sir; but he seems to be a gent who has been putting himself in the way that gentlemen wish to be who love their wine. ”

“ BETSY. Of course you won’t—you’ve too much spirit to forgive any man, much less a husband. Now, mum, if you’ll help me in a little plan I’ve hit upon, I think we’ll torment him to that degree that he’ll never hear a Countess mentioned without trembling. ”

“ I shall be sent back to Peckham Rye a head shorter than I left it.
MRS. G. Entendez bien that your safety as well as mine depends on your taisez vous. Remember dat from my chamber dere I can watch, and ecoutez all dat sall pass here—den, if you go to spleet, I sall sew you up—bang! Comprenez vous?
(shewing pistol, and exit, R.)
GREEN. Yes, I comprenez vous—my safety depends on my taisez vous. What a dreadful situation is mine! If this is having an aristocratic flirtation, I don’t care how soon I get democratic in my penchants again. This terrible Countess is a perfect masked battery ”

“ But she may dye her hair:—Gad, so she may; its only dying for love after all.
MRS. G. (returning) Ah! I did forget—you must prenez garde—be [Pg 7] vide awake, and take care of our secret, for de most little cause of suspect vill coupez both our neck at one slice.
Exit R.
GREEN. What does she mean? I feel I’m up to the ears in some terrible mystery. I don’t know whether ’tis conscience or cowardice, but my sympathy for the Countess is evaporating very rapidly, in fact I’m beginning to feel dreadfully uncomfortable here—why should she want to pass as my wife? ”

“ COUNTESS DE RAMBUTEAU.—Loose travelling pelisse, bonnet and green veil.
CHARLEY BATES.—Blue frock coat and white trowsers.
BETSY.—Travelling dress and servant’s dress.
WAITER.—Gendarme suit.
SCENE lies at a Hotel at Dieppe.
Time in Representation, 50 minutes.
[Pg 3]
A DUEL IN THE DARK! SCENE.—A handsomely furnished Apartment on the ground floor of a Hotel at Dieppe. A French window at back opening on a garden. Door, 2 E. L. Door, 3 E. L. A large stove, L. between the two doors. Door, 2 E. R. Easy chair near door, R. Tables, R. and L. C. at back ”

“ Green coat, light blue trowsers, and French travelling cap,—Changed comma at end of costume note to a period. p. 3: Door, 2 E. L. Door. 3 E. L.—Changed period between “Door” and “3” to a comma. p. 5: the second day he performed a love pantomine at his window—Changed “pantomine” to “pantomime”. p. 5: GREEN. I’ve ordered dinner at five; aud now—Changed “aud” to “and”. p. 6: vil you permit me, vile in dis maison, to be apellez your femme—Italicized “maison” and “apellez” for consistency. p. ”