Title: At Hotel On-de-Blink
An entertainment in two parts
Author: George P. Seiler
Release date: March 5, 2023 [eBook #70211]
Language: English
Original publication: United States: Walter H. Baker & Co
Credits: Charlene Taylor, Krista Zaleski and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
A. W. Pinero’s Plays
Price, 50 Cents Each
THE AMAZONS Farce in Three Acts. Seven males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, not difficult. Plays a full evening.
THE CABINET MINISTER Farce in Four Acts. Ten males, nine females. Costumes, modern society; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening.
DANDY DICK Farce in Three Acts. Seven males, four females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays two hours and a half.
THE GAY LORD QUEX Comedy in Four Acts. Four males, ten females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening.
HIS HOUSE IN ORDER Comedy in Four Acts. Nine males, four females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening.
THE HOBBY HORSE Comedy in Three Acts. Ten males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery easy. Plays two hours and a half.
IRIS Drama in Five Acts. Seven males, seven females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening.
LADY BOUNTIFUL Play in Four Acts. Eight males, seven females. Costumes, modern; scenery, four interiors, not easy. Plays a full evening.
LETTY Drama in Four Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery complicated. Plays a full evening.
THE MAGISTRATE Farce in Three Acts. Twelve males, four females. Costumes, modern; scenery, an interior. Plays two hours and a half.
Sent prepaid on receipt of price by
Walter H. Baker & Company
No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts
An Entertainment in Two Parts
By
GEORGE P. SEILER
Author of “Schmerecase in School,” etc.
Boston
WALTER H. BAKER & CO.
1916
[Pg 2]
(As originally cast)
Hans Seitz, not proprietor; he “owns der blace” | Mr. Jno. Welker |
Gretch, his daughter, “I bane tink” | Miss Katie Siren |
Samp L. Case, a knight of the road | Mr. Chas. Huth |
Antonio Bootlashoesa Morecheesa, a lost dago | Mr. Seiler |
Weber Fields, of darker hue | Mr. Calvin Helmke |
Rusty Ruffles, no account; “in-cog” | Mr. Paul Stuart |
Bell Hop, the wise kid | Mr. Edw. Luft |
Miss Gotrox, one of the boarders | Miss Olga Tate |
Archibald Nutt, mother’s pet | Mr. Gus Duble |
Newspaper on counter. Lamp on counter—lighted. Grip for S. L. Case to carry. Baby—big doll—for Gretch to fetch on.
Place signs about:
Copyright, 1916, by Walter H. Baker & Co.[Pg 3]
Hans Seitz. Suit much too large, very loose collar, small tie, red handkerchief. Made up partly bald head, Dutch chin whiskers. Wears glasses. Character very good when played by a very stout person.
Gretch. Dutch basque costume. Black basque, red skirt, white apron, white cap and stockings, black shoes. Wear hair braided down back in two plats. Should be made up ruddy complexion and use brogue throughout.
Samp L. Case. Every day business (loud) suit. Made up healthy, clean shaven. Carries grip.
Antonio Bootlashoesa Morecheesa, of the lower class Italian. Old coat, slouch hat, much worn. Pants too large in waist. Old shoes. Made up olive complexion, ten day growth beard.
Weber Fields, the typical lazy darky. Large mouth. Wears blue shirt, old pants and shoes.
Rusty Ruffles, the characteristic tramp life. Old clothes, a piece of hat, short, stumpy beard.
Bell Hop. Regulation hop uniform.
Miss Gotrox. A seashore beauty. Dressed all in white. Carries sunshade. Dainty and inclined to flirt.
Archibald Nutt, the effeminate variety. Ruddy complexion, sport shirt open far down in front, red tie. White trousers, sox and shoes. Must be played sissyfied and affected to be effective.
[Pg 4]
Hotel On-de-Blink
Part the First
Scene | Lobby of the hotel “On-de-Blink.” | |
Grand Olio | ||
Song | Italy | Mr. Seiler |
Song | Cover Your Garbage Can | Mr. Helmke |
Song | Can I Trust You In the Same Old Way | Mr. Huth |
Song | Vould dot Tickle Der Kaiser | Mr. Welker |
Song | Rat-proofing New Orleans | Mr. Stuart |
Intermission.
Part the Second
Scene | The same. | |
Olio | ||
Song | Roll on Beautiful World | Miss Tate |
Song | The Little Old Ford Rambled On | Mr. Helmke |
Song | You Couldn’t Hardly Notice It at All | Miss Siren |
Song | When You Wore a Tulip | Mr. Welker assisted |
Quartette | Selected airs Welker, Huth, Helmke, Seiler |
Finale |
SCENE I.—An interior, full depth of stage. Doors L. C., in flat, R. 1 E., R. 2 E., L. 1 E., and L. 2 E. A counter runs along the back from right wall to C., and there is a chair up L., on the other side of the door at back. Between doors R. 1 E. and R. 2 E. there is a hat-rack, and at L. C., half-way down stage, there is another seat.
(Discover Hans Seitz and Gretch as curtain rises. Hans walking about excitedly and Gretch straightening things out about the counter.)
Hans. Vere iss id? Vere iss id? For vy you don’t sbeak, shut up, talk louder, don’t say a vord? (Pause.) Vell?
Gretch. Vass iss, fader? Vy dot oxcitement? Vot you lose I bane like to know?
Hans. Ach himmel, I lose my mind und you don’t look for id.
Gretch. You lose your mind from der head oud? I bane tink ven any one loses der mind dey don’t find it so easily. Vere iss der boarders?
Hans. Vot boarders? I never see any boarders.
Enter Samp L. Case, C., with grip.
Case. Is this a hotel?
Hans. Does id look like a livery stable?
Case. Not exactly; but you look something like a brewery. I want a room.
Hans. Dot’s all right; register right here.
(Offers pen, etc.)
Case. Register? I haven’t paid my poll tax yet.
Hans. As long as you pay your bill here, I don’t care. Wrote id down here. (Case writes. Hans looks at signature.) Samp L. Case, vot’s in er name?
[Pg 6]
Case (picking up grip). Nothing in this one.
Hans. Den you pays in advance, blease.
Case. In advance; why?
Hans. Didn’t you say dere vas noding in der case?
(Points to grip.)
Case. Oh, I meant in the name. This grip is full.
Hans. Full of vot?
Case. Full of cough.
Hans. Den cough up.
Case. But see here, are you going to give me a bath, too?
Hans. You take the bath yourself. Gretch——
Gretch. Yah. I bane here.
Hans. Show der gentlemens to room 66.
Gretch. Yah.
[Exit, R. 1 E.
Enter Antonio Bootlashoesa Morecheesa, D. C.
Tony. ’At’s da madda?
Hans. Br-br-r-r. Vot you vant?
Tony. Dees-a—dees-a——
Hans. No, diss is der tohel—I mean hotel. Vot’s your name?
Tony. ’At’s da madda?
Case. The old gent don’t understand. What’s your name?
Tony. Antonio Bootlashoesa Morecheesa.
Hans. Got in himmel, he gifs us his family history.
Case (to Tony). Now, wait, don’t say it so fast. The old gent here, he is the proprietor, you know.
Hans. No, I don’t. I owns der blace.
Case. Well, you see, he owns the hotel. He wants your name right. Tell him slow.
Tony. Antonio.
Case (writing). Now wait till I get that. All right.
Tony. Bootlashoesa.
Case. Who? What the ding ding?
Tony. Bootlashoesa.
Case. Oh, I see. Boots and shoes. (Writes.) All right.
Tony. Morecheesa.
Case (aside). You look like a cheese, too.
Hans. Ach du lieber, vot a name.
Case. Say, suppose we call you Tony Cheese for short?
[Pg 7]
Tony. Al-a-right. Al-a-same ting.
Hans. Vell, vot iss id you vas looking for?
Tony. Ma brudder Morechessi.
Hans. Your brudder’s a cheese, too? (Tony nods.) Vere he lifs?
Tony (naming local street with car line of the same name). Tree-a-six-ateen —— (name street).
Hans. You can’t find him?
Tony. Shure. I see ma brudder’s house mark-a tree-a-six-ateen. One-a man on-a front, one man on-a back. Son-a-ma gum, firs’ ting I-a know, da house move off. I tell-a heem, meester, meester, stop-a queek-a, ma brudda’s house run away.
Case (laughing). Didn’t you know that was a street car?
Tony. Street car? Leesten. I came-a here by-a da train. Dees-a train gotta a green-a flag on da back. What’s a mean da green flag?
Case. Well, that means there’s another one coming right behind.
Enter Gretch, carrying baby wearing green
cap. Crosses stage and exits.
Tony (pointing to baby). Look-a, meester. Leetla baba gotta green cap. Meen-a all same ting like-a train?
Hans. You vant id a room here?
Tony. In-a dees place?
Hans. In diss hotel, iff you blease.
Case. Give him a suite of rooms.
Hans (bewildered). Sweet rooms?
Case. That’s what I said.
Hans (undertone to Case). Subbose I put der floor mit molasses?
Enter Gretch, D. C.
Gretch. Fader, dere iss id a letter for you. I bane tink it iss goot news.
Hans (taking letter). Goot news? I bet diss hotel to a beanut dot id iss anodder bill. (Opens letter and reads.) Hooray, Gretch, look vot id iss. (Reads from letter.) “Hotel ‘On-de-Blink’: Gents, der Gount de Slob iss draveling in-cog, und vill stop at your hotel. Blease commoderate him.” (Lays letter on desk.) I vant to ask you someding.
Case. All right. Fire away.
[Pg 8]
Hans. Vot kind of a machine iss dot in-cog?
Case. Machine?
Hans. Yah; dot letter says he iss draveling in-cog. Don’t dot iss id a machine?
Case. No, no. That means that he is in disguise.
Hans. Oh, ho, den dere iss no cogs, eh? (Enter Rusty Ruffles unobserved by others and reads letter, pantomiming that the idea of impersonating the count has occurred to him. Exits, D. C. Hans, during above action by Ruff.) Here you, Dony Bootchee.
Tony. ’At’s da madda?
Hans. How’s your fadder?
(Tony looks bewildered.)
Case (to Tony). He means how is the old man? The big boot—your relation.
Tony. Aha, yes, I’m related to him by er—what—you call marriage.
Case. Are you married, Tony?
Tony. Yes. I’m-a married.
Case. Any children?
Tony. ’At’s a dat?
Case. Any little boots running around?
Tony. No, no boots, no boots. (Pause.) Shoes.
Case. Oh, I see; all little. All living?
Tony. No, buried one alive.
Case. Buried one alive? Lord, that’s terrible.
Hans. Vell, id iss no joke to be buried dead either.
(Song—Tony.)
Enter Weber Fields, followed by Ruff.
Weber. Right dis-a-way, Count, right dis-a-way. (Hans makes a dash to get behind counter as Ruff. enters pompously.) I reckon dis is de place. (Turns to Hans.) Is diss de Hotel “On-de-Blink”?
Hans. Yah, you iss id correct.
Weber (aside). Dat’s what hit looks like. (To Hans.) Well, dis yer is de Count de Slob. (Aside.) As no ’count as dey come.
(Hans and Ruff. bow low to each other.)
Ruff. Delighted.
[Pg 9]
Hans. Gentlemen, diss iss id der Gount de Slob. (Case and Tony give Ruff. disgusted looks.) Der gentlemens has came a long vay. A long chourney. Iss diss (pointing to Weber) your vallet?
Ruff. Yes, sir; dat’s me valet.
Weber (aside). En de hungriest nigger yo’ ever seed.
Ruff. Yes, gentlemen, we have just came from Alaska.
Weber (aside). I hope dey don’t asks where it is.
Hans. Ach, dot moost be cold up dere, don’t id?
Ruff. Everything frozen.
Weber. Not everything.
Ruff. Everything, I said. I’d like to know what you ever saw that would not freeze?
Weber. Hot water.
Case (reading paper). Landlord, I see here a notice that John Smith had died and was buried yesterday. What John Smith was that?
Weber. De one in de hearse.
Hans. Yah, I vent by der funeral too. Everyding vas vite. Vite goffin, vite hearse, und all der drimmings.
Case. Sure, white is the color of purity. It is also the color of beauty.
Ruff. Of course; dat’s why all brides dress in white. White! Why, man, dat is de color of joy. Ain’t her weddin’ de mostest joyous occasion of a woman’s life?
Weber. Aha; dat’s why all de grooms dress in black.
Ruff. Do you know that a terrible thing happened to me last week one night? I was making a strategic retreat from a dance. I had the misfortune to rip my trousers. Just as I was going round the corner I see a sign in a tailor’s window. It read: Reveal yourself through your clothes.
Weber. Did you go back to the dance?
Case. Talking about women, we’ve got them beat all hollow. They have no pockets to put their hands in.
Hans. Say, you vasn’t married, vas you?
Bell Hop (entering R. 1 E.). Sir, Miss Gotrox reports that the keyhole in her door is broken.
Hans. Tell her I vill look into it to-night.
Hop. Yes, sir.
[Exit, R. 1 E.
Ruff. Landlord, I would like some nice roast beef.
Hans. Ve are yoost oud of roast beef, Gount, bot ve haf id some nice bork.
Ruff. No; no pork, thank you.
[Pg 10]
Weber (aside). No, he’s been on de hog long enuf.
Ruff. Landlord, how about some fine fruit? By the way, in Seattle, last week, I ate some fine fruit that was delicious. I don’t remember its name, but it begins with “K.”
Tony. Carrots?
Hans. Ach himmel, don’t you know dot carrots begins mit “Q”?
Case. Was it crabapples?
Hans. Vot’s der matter mit you? Crabapples is a fish.
Weber. War hit ketchup?
Ruff. Catsup, my boy, is a desert.
Hans. I bet id vas krapes.
Ruff. Right you are, old top, right you are.
Case. Grapes don’t begin with “K.”
Hans. Sure id iss. (Spells.) K-P-W-kerfluie.
Ruff. (slapping Case on the back). Aha, my boy. That got your goat.
Weber. Got hisn goat is right. The goat is de most wunnerful insect dat swims on de land. It comes in fifty-seven varieties. Angora goats, Irish goats, goat-tees, lodge goats, political goats, and others.
(Song by Weber.)
Hop (entering R. 1 E.). The cook is complaining that you paid him off with dirty money. He says that he wants clean money.
Hans. Yah, for vy?
Hop. Well, he says he doesn’t want any microbes on his salary.
Hans. Go tell him a microbe couldn’t live on his salary.
[Exit Hop, R. 1 E.
Weber. Say, Tony, dat’s a beautiful fitting suit you have on.
Tony. ’At’s da madda? Dees-a suit made by-a London tailor.
Weber. I thought so. Those London tailors couldn’t make a coat of paint fit a hen-coop.
Hop (coming to door excitedly). Sir, there’s a big accident down at the corner.
Hans. Yah? Vass iss?
Hop. An aviator killed a cow. (Runs off.)
Ruff. (as all start to run off). Hold on, gentlemen. What’s the use of going? The aviator is not guilty.
[Pg 11]
Case. Of course he is.
Ruff. No, no. I’ll bet my eye-tooth against a square meal that the cow failed to blow her horn.
Tony (to Weber, who has posed rather sullenly). ’At’s da madda?
Weber (stepping over Case’s grip). I’se jes’ gittin’ over de grip. No, I’ll tell you. Ma gal’s daddy give her an automobile.
Case. Well, what’s that got to do with your being sick?
Weber. Well, dat gal jes’ loves dat machine to deaf; she ain’t got no time fer me.
Ruff. Gentlemen, there’s another instance where man is being replaced by machine.
Case. Man is little more than a monkey, anyhow.
Hans. Yah? Und how’s dot?
Case. Haven’t you read Darwin’s work?
Weber (aside). No, but I’ve seen ma jaws work.
Ruff. No, sir, I’ve never read anything but Scott’s Emulsion.
Case. Well, Darwin is the man who tried to prove that man is descended from a monkey.
Ruff. (looking intently first at one then the other). Take Tony here for instance. Do you think he is descended from a monkey?
Weber. What’s de matter wif you? He never knew Tony’s parents.
(Song by Case.)
Hop (heard reciting off D. L.).
Case. That boy is some poet.
Weber. He didn’t finish.
Case. Didn’t he?
Weber. No, listen. (Recites.)
[Pg 12]
Hans. Gentlemens, don’t forgot dot ve turns off der gas in diss hotel at ten o’clock.
Weber. Dat’s what ma intended father-in-law tole me.
Case. Told you what?
Weber. Dat he war goin’ to turn off de gas at ten o’clock.
Case. That means that you leave at ten o’clock after this.
Weber. No, sir. Hit means that after this I calls at ten o’clock.
Ruff. That’s a poor excuse, don’t you think?
Weber. Hit’s as good as the —— (name local police).
Case. Didn’t I hear you say that you were going to be married, Count?
Ruff. You did.
Case. Is the engagement broken?
Ruff. It is.
Case. Did you break it?
Ruff. No.
Case. The girl?
Ruff. No.
Hans. Then who did?
Weber. Nobody. One night his gal tole him about de cost ob some ob her gowns. De engagement jes’ sagged in de middle.
Case. Why, you shouldn’t have gotten afraid of talk.
Ruff. No? Why?
Case. Well, before I was married, my wife talked the same way. But now,—why, man, you never saw a more economical woman. She doesn’t waste a thing.
Ruff. Is that so?
Case. Why, sir, if it’s edible, she uses it in hash; if it isn’t, she uses it for hat trimmings.
Hans. Dot’s a goot voman; do you remember her birthdays?
Case. Sure; the day before she puts a bunch of forget-me-nots by my plate.
Ruff. Landlord, how about something to drink?
Hans. Yah, I got id some vitagraph vine.
Case. Why do you call it vitagraph wine?
Hans. Ober ven you drink it, you see moving bictures.
Weber. I bet dat’s what made you drunk the other day.
Hans. I vas nod drunk.
Weber. Of course you were.
Hans. I say I vas nod.
[Pg 13]
Weber. Will you swear dat you were nod drunk?
Hans. Sure I vill.
Weber. Hold up your right hand. (Hans holds up his left.) I said your right hand.
Hans. Vell, my right hand is on my left hand side.
Hop (entering). Sir, you have ordered “gold” soup for dinner. The cook wants to know how to make it. What he shall put into it?
Hans. Fourteen carrots.
[Exit Hop.
(Song by Ruff. During song Weber turns up wick of oil lamp that has been burning on counter until it smokes freely.)
Case. Landlord, how old is that lamp you have on the counter?
Hans. Den years.
Ruff. Well, put it out, landlord, it’s too young to smoke.
(Hans blows over the top so hard that Tony’s
hat blows off.)
Tony (recovering hat). ’At’s da madda? Man-a gotta plenty puff.
Case. Plenty puff?
Tony. Yes-a plenty puff. Shoota plenty wind.
Ruff. “Vox preterea nihil.”
Case. What’s that?
Weber. All hot air.
Hans. Ach, dot hot air minds me of dose Durks in swimmin’.
Case. Turks in swimming? You mean a Turkish bath?
Hans. Yah, ach mine lieber gott. I had von once. De day I landed.
Weber. Tell us about it.
Hans. You see, I yoost landed from der boat off. Der first ting a fellow handed me a card und I don’t know somedings yet, so I gif me dot card to a boliceman. He tells a schmall poy to come mit me und ve goes by dot blace on der card. Ach, a man dakes der card und shoves me inside. Anudder fellow tell me to remove mine clothes. Ven I gets dem off he shoves me into a room und—ach du lieber—I puts me mine foot on der floor und you bet I yump. I put me mine hand on der vall und ach, such a hotness. In a few minutes a fellow shouts by der door in: “Vas you sweating?” Ach[Pg 14] himmel, vas I sweating? Ach himmel, I bet if I don’t get out purty kervick I drip oud by der drain bipe. I feel I yoost like a sdreet sprinkler. Den dot fellow comes in und rubs me down mit a currycomb. Ven he had all der skin scrabed off, he says: “Are you purty veil done?” I told him I don’t know, take a fork und turn me over on der odder side. Den, oh, chee—he shoves me into a dank of ice varter. (Shivers.) Dot vas den year ago, und every time I dink about id I get der shakes.
(Closing song by Hans.)
CURTAIN
[Pg 15]SCENE II.—Same as in Scene I.
(Discover seated about stage all members thereon when first part closed and in same positions.)
Hop (entering D. L.). Schultz, room fifty-nine says send him a pousse-café and charge it.
Hans. Go back und tell him ve don’t charge anything but storage batteries.
[Exit Hop.
Ruff. Landlord, where’s that fine little kitten you had the last time I was here?
Hans. Vell—she——
Ruff. I hope you didn’t poison her?
Hans. No, you see she——
Case. Was she drowned?
Hans. No—she——
Tony. Somebody make-a steal?
Hans. No, you see——
Weber. Well, what de debil happened to her?
Hans. Vy, she growed into a cat.
Weber. Dat’s jes’ de trouble wif women.
Case. Do they grow into cats?
Tony. ’At’s da madda? You talk-a about da lady?
Weber. Well, firs’ dey is jes’ spring chickens, den dey’s suffragettes, den dey’s get to be ole hens.
Tony. You no like-a suffamayettes?
Weber. I should say not.
Case. Why are you so set against suffragettes?
Weber. Why, man, women ain’t got the intellectual habilitation ter hash up de political problems ob state. Even we men don’t know what we’re talkin’ ’bout half de time when we’s discussin’ politics.
Ruff. Whoopee, you shure is got some co-loboratory of words. I wonder if you could tell us de longest sentence in de English language? It contains about one hundred and forty words.
Weber. No, sir, dat’s wrong.
Case. How many words does it contain?
Weber. Only one.
[Pg 16]
Hans. Only von? Iss id dot you means to tell us dot der longest sentence of der language has only von vord in id?
Weber. I mean to expostulate dat de longest sentence in de world has only one word therein it.
Case. And what’s that?
Weber. Life.
Enter Miss Gotrox and Gretch, L. 1 E.
Hans (smiling and bowing). Aha, Miss Gotrox, you iss all dressed up now already yet.
Miss G. Yes; do I look nice enough to go promenading?
Hans. Ach, yes, I bane like you all in vite. Vite hat, vite dress—vite shoes, vite sdockings.
Gretch. I bane tink mosquitoes vould nod bite a lady ven she haf vite sdockings on.
Case. You don’t think so, why?
Hans. Pecause all der mosquitoes ve haf around here iss gentlemens.
Gretch. You bane going to der lecture, Miss Gotrox?
Miss G. What lecture?
Gretch. At der church. I bane tink der man iss going to sbeak on der subject of “Favorite Hymns.”
Miss G. “Favorite Hymns”? Well, I’m not going to the lecture, but I’m hoping to meet my favorite him this evening.
Ruff. Aha, there’s where two is company.
Weber. And three’s a crowd.
Hans. Ach, doss iss nicht recht. Dwo is matrimony, dree iss alimony.
Case. You seem very much in love with the love man.
Miss G. I am——
Case. Is he bashful, or is he—fast?
Hans. He ain’t fast mit his creditors.
(Song.)
Ruff. Are you going to marry the young man you spoke of, Miss Gotrox?
Miss G. If I can make him propose.
Hans. You vass tinking of matrimony, den?
Miss G. Yes.
Ruff. Have you had any experience with children?
Weber. What a foolish question. Wasn’t she a child once herself?
Case. Has the young man any accomplishments?
[Pg 17]
Miss G. Well, he plays the piano very well.
Gretch. I bane tink if dot biano could dalk, it vould say: You haf blayed me false.
Hans. Gretch, you should nod sbeak dot way to Miss Gotrox. She iss a beautiful lady, und voman iss a great creation. Vy—man has taken a voman’s head to decorate our coin.
Case. Yes, and the milliner has taken quite a few of my coins to decorate a certain woman’s head.
Miss G. Landlord, where is the nearest candy shop?
Hans (thinking). Er—er—middle in der block.
Case. Say, landlord, there’s a hotel man down in New Orleans by the name of Seitz. Do you know him?
Hans. Might I do. Vot’s his name?
Gretch. I bane tink you use very little bowder, Miss Gotrox.
Miss G. Why—yes, I do. But still I do use a little powder and cream.
Case. That’s strange.
Miss G. What’s strange?
Case. That you use very little.
Ruff. What? Why, it seems to me that woman would sooner hear about the discovery of a new complexion cream than to learn of the invention of a torpedo-proof battle-ship.
Miss G. Why, certainly. When this world comes to its senses, battle-ships will not be needed, but a good complexion will be more in demand than ever.
Case. That may be true, but a sensible man would sooner have a woman just as nature meant her to be, without all that paint and powder.
Miss G. Yes, but there seems to be very few sensible men. There is art in a good complexion.
Case. And what art rivals nature? A little powder may change a complexion, but what art equals nature in her many changes? Take a waterfall for instance; how beautiful nature has made it, and then along comes winter and changes it into ice. What a remarkable change takes place.
Weber (sighing). Ah me, dat’s right:—
Ruff. You shouldn’t mind dat pessimist, Miss Gotrox; he is always down in de mouth.
[Pg 18]
Miss G. You shouldn’t be that way. When you feel down in the mouth, think of Jonah; he came out all right.
Case. Miss Gotrox, what do you think Jonah thought when he found himself inside the whale?
Weber (interrupting). I bet he thought he went to sleep inside a foldin’ bed en she closed up.
Tony. ’At’s da madda you? You make-a fuss all-a time. You make-a fuss you no gotta fuss-a fuss about.
Case. That’s what I say, Tony. (To Weber.) How do you think men live in a submarine?
Hans. Yah—dot’s right; yoost tink of all der varter around dem. I bet many of dem dies vrom humidity.
Ruff. (not comprehending). Humidity? Why—er—I thought de papers said it was from dyspepsia.
Miss G. (she had been looking outside). I would like to go down town, but all the cars seem jammed. I wonder what makes them so crowded this evening.
Weber. Beggin’ your pardon, Miss, but I reckon hit’s de number ob passengers dey’s carryin’.
(Song.)
Enter Archibald Nutt.
Nutt. Oh, Miss Gotrox, how delightfully lovely you look this eve.
Weber (business of fainting, etc.). Oh, Elizabeth, the cook stewed the cat.
Miss G. Why, Archie, I’m so glad to see you. How’s mother?
Nutt. Why, I’m angry at my mother.
Miss G. Angry at your mother? How terrible. Why so?
Nutt. Why, mother wants me to come in at eight o’clock, and I’ll do nothing of the kind.
Miss G. You won’t?
Nutt. No, I’ll come in at five minutes past eight.
Miss G. Oh, you shouldn’t be so naughty.
Nutt. Yes, I will—be very naughty. I’ll go out with the boys and I’ll smoke cigarettes and I’ll use cuss words.
Miss G. Oh, Archie, be careful. Remember you’re in my company, and here is Mr. Case. I’m sure he doesn’t use naughty words.
Nutt. Well (pleasantly), if it will relieve you, Miss Gotrox, I’ll promise not to teach him any. (Others give Case[Pg 19] the laugh. Nutt, haughtily.) Well, what are you laughing at, me?
Ruff. Why, no, Genevieve.
Nutt. Then what else is there around here to laugh at?
Miss G. Archie, I’m sure they would not laugh at you if they knew you were a historian.
Case. Are you a historian?
Nutt (smiling). Uh-huh.
Case. Well, there’s something I have been trying to find out for a long time. Maybe you can tell me. What was Washington’s Farewell Address?
Weber. Heaven.
Nutt (screaming). Oh, you vulgar thing!
Weber. Vulgar? I thought that was well done.
Hans. Yah, I bane tink dot vass doo vell done.
Case. That’s going a little too far.
Miss G. Why, don’t you believe in doing all things well?
Case. Most assuredly.
Ruff. Suppose you set out to make a fool of yourself?
(Pause.)
Nutt. Oh, Weber, I’ve heard that your girl has a new auto.
Weber. Did yuh?
Nutt. Uh-huh. Who drives it?
Ruff. Nobody; dey coaxes it.
Nutt (to Miss G.). Do you know that Weber’s intended father-in-law is the funniest little man you ever saw?
Miss G. Is that possible?
Nutt. And he has only one eye, too.
Weber. Say, talkin’ ’bout dat ole man. De odder day I had him out wif me an’ I los’ him in de crowd. I went up to a policeman and I axes him: “Hofficer, I’m looking for a little man wif one eye.” What do you think dat ole fool tole me? He said: “Mose, if he’s so small, why don’t you use two eyes?”
Hop (entering L. 1 E.). Sir, a gentleman in the dining-room sends his compliments and says the steak he is eating is the first tender steak he has ever eaten here.
Hans. Ach himmel—dot feller got mine steak.
[Exit Hop.
Tony (who has been reading paper). Look-a dees. (Puzzled.) ’At’s a man-o’-war-ship?
[Pg 20]
Case. Why, a cruiser.
Tony. ’At makes her go?
Ruff. Its screw, sir.
Tony (bewildered). Who-a goes along?
Nutt. Why, its crew, sir.
(Tony, dumfounded, resumes his seat.)
Miss G. I think I’ll be going. Archie, will you be walking with me?
Nutt. Most assuredly.
[Exeunt.
Gretch. I bane tink he dance mit her, doo.
Case. Does he really dance?
Weber. Dance? You ought to see dat feller do de Induction Coil.
(Song.)
Enter Nutt, excitedly.
Nutt (out of breath). Oh, goodness me, I’ve had a terrible experience. Oh, my!
Hans. Vot’s der madder? You bane scared?
Nutt. Scared? Oh, gracious, I’m frightened most to death. I was walking down the street with Miss Gotrox, when who did I see coming toward us but my sweetheart. Oh, my!
Ruff. (doubtfully). A girl in love with you? (To Weber, aside.) What must she think of him?
Weber. Nothing; she thinks for him.
Nutt. Why, I’ve got the sweetest, dearest, prettiest girl in the world.
Case. What does she look like?
Nutt. Look like? She’s a perfect creation. (With sentiment.) The Great Creator formed all other women first so that He’d have the thing down to perfection when He came to her. From the dark stillness of the forest He took her eyes, hiding in each the twinkle of a star. From the gloomy wings of the raven He took her hair, and the beautiful tint of her cheek He took from the wild-flowers. Her teeth He took from the white snows of winter, and her lips are like the roses of the east that the west never saw. Her swiftness and grace He took from the antelope. Nobility from the eagle, and gentleness He took from the dove. Her smile He took from the sunrise. That is why her smile brings light and joy into my gloomy heart.
[Pg 21]
Weber. Dat’s jes’ de way He made my gal, but jes’ as He war finishin’ de job He drap her into de ink pot.
Nutt (screaming). Oh, how ridiculous. I’ll not stay another minute in your company.
[Exit, D. C., haughtily.
Case. He sure is smart all right.
Ruff. Smart? Why, dat’s hisn interleck. He’s more interleck den brains, en if he keeps on he’s goin’ ter be all interleck.
Weber. Say, I’se been tryin’ ter learn de alphabet. What comes after “G”?
Ruff. Whiz.
Hans (tapping bell; enter Hop). Here, boy, here’s some good instructions on “How to run a hotel.” Please see that they are carried out.
(Hop places them carefully in the waste-basket and carries all out D. C.)
Case. Landlord, I have here a note for $5,000; will you endorse it?
Hans. Endorse it?
Case. Yes, sign your name on the back of it?
Hans. Sure I vill. I know you’ll never pay it, so here’s vere ve haf a laugh at der bank’s expense. (Signs paper.)
Ruff. See here, nigger, dat travelin’ salesman’s job looks like an uplift to me.
Weber. Looks more like a hold-up.
Case (turning away from desk). Landlord, I saw, as I was coming into the hotel, what must have been a fine vegetable garden alongside of the hotel. Were you successful with it?
Hans. Successful? Yah, I bane tink so. My neighbor’s hens dook first prize at der boultry show.
Case. Well, that’s a trick of the trade.
Ruff. (pointing to Hans). His trade is full of tricks.
Hans. Iss dot so? For vy you say dot?
Ruff. Aw, don’t I know all about de tricks of your trade? Do you think I’ve been living in hotels all my life for nothing?
Weber. I wouldn’t doubt it.
Hop (entering R. 1 E.). Sir, the cook wants to know if he should cook your Welsh rarebit?
Hans. Might he could.
[Exit Hop.
Gretch (going after boy). Here, vait. I bane tink I vant der left hind foot of dot rabbit.
[Exit after Hop.
Case. That boy of yours is surely smart.
[Pg 22]
Hans. You bane tink so? I bane teach him everyting I know, und he’s still an ignorant fool.
(Song. After song Tony, reading paper, begins to cry.)
Ruff. Every time he hears me sing, he starts crying.
Weber. He ought to put cotton in his ears.
Hans. Vot’s der madder mit you? For vy you make me dose tears in der face?
Tony. Meester (sobbing)—Meester (sobbing) Rockefeller, hee’s dead.
Ruff. What’s dat got to do wif you? You ain’t any relation to him.
Tony. Dat’s-a make-a me cry. (Sobs.)
Case. Aw, say, are you all going to be pessimists? Wake up your optimism, why don’t you? Don’t you know that an optimist doesn’t care what happens?
Weber. So long as hit don’t happen to him.
Ruff. Say, that statement was pretty smooth, Mr. Case.
Case. Well, you have to be smooth to get on top these days.
Hans. Und you get smooth on top getting there.
Weber. If yo’ don’t put a check to dat interleck of yours, Mr. Landlord, you’ll be gettin’ concussion ob de brain.
Tony. ’At’s-a mean dat concussion you?
Ruff. Well, you see——
Weber (to Ruff.). Say, does you know anything ’bout de symptoms of concussion ob de brain?
Ruff. Why—er—yes.
Weber. Well, if me en Mr. Case war ter bang our heads together, would we git concussion ob de brain?
Ruff. (looking from one to the other). Mr. Case might.
Weber (insulted). You’re not very much of a Christian.
Ruff. Why?
Weber. Well, ’cause you fabricates.
Ruff. Me tell lies? Nothing. I’d ruther be er Christian den to lie or be a heathen.
Case. Why would you sooner be a Christian than a heathen?
Ruff. ’Cause—over the Christian the Great Lord watches.
Weber. Yeh?—Is dat so?—Well, over de heathen Ingersol watches.
Case. But Weber, you don’t understand that a Christian has a reward an’ a crown of glory.
Weber. Is dat so? How big is de reward?
[Pg 23]
Case. Well, that depends on how good a feller has been.
Weber. Den who does yo’ s’pose is gwine ter git de biggest crown?
Ruff. Him what’s got de biggest head.
Hop (entering L. 1 E.). Sir, a gentleman just walked out and refused to pay his lunch check.
Hans. For vy?
Hop. Well, he ordered three eggs from the waiter and wanted them four minutes boiled.
Hans. Den vot?
Hop. There was only one egg in the house, and the cook boiled it twelve minutes.
Hans. Dot shows der value of higher edumacation.
[Exit Hop.
Case. That customer didn’t display very much gratitude.
Weber. Gratitude? What’s dat?
Ruff. You don’t know what gratitude is?
Weber. Nope.
Hans. Vy, even a cow has gratitude.
Weber. Den I don’t want it.
Ruff. Well, listen. I’ll explain just what gratitude is. You remember when we was coming erlong de road in my limousine?
Weber (amused). Yep.
Ruff. You remember one day when we stopped for lunch, we heard a moaning longside of de road? ’Member dat I found a covered basket in de bushes, and on opening it there lay a real live pickaninny?
Weber. Yep, a sho’ nuf black one.
Ruff. Yes. Well, remember that it was very cold that day, and I took off my great fur-lined coat and lifting the little pickaninny out of the basket laid it into the warm folds of my coat and covered it over. Then when he got quite warm and comfortable, in the deepest sense of gratitude the little feller looked up at me and said——
Weber. Papa.
CURTAIN
COMEDY SKETCHES
By Julian Sturgis
A collection of short plays suited for amateur theatricals or high-class vaudeville, easy to produce and of high quality. Recommended especially for parlor performance.
CONTENTS
Twenty minutes each.
Price, 25 cents
IN OFFICE HOURS
And Other Sketches
By Evelyn Greenleaf Sutherland
CONTENTS
Price, 25 cents
THE SOUP TUREEN
And Other Duologues
A collection of short plays for two and three characters. Good quality, high tone and confidently offered to the best taste.
CONTENTS
Play twenty minutes each.
Price, 25 cents
HOLIDAY DIALOGUES FROM DICKENS
Arranged by W. E. Fette
Comprising selections from “The Christmas Carol,” “The Cricket on the Hearth,” “The Battle of Life,” etc., arranged in a series of scenes to be given either singly or together, as an extended entertainment. For the celebration of Christmas no better material can be found.
Price, 25 cents
THE SUFFRAGETTES’ CONVENTION
An Entertainment in One Scene
By Jessie A. Kelley
One male, twelve females. Costumes, modern and eccentric; scenery, unimportant. Plays an hour and a quarter. Another of Mrs. Kelley’s popular assemblages of the floating humor of the Suffragette question. Just a string of humorous lines and characters and local hits aimed to raise a hearty laugh without hurting anybody’s feelings. Suited for women’s clubs and for general use in private theatricals.
Price, 25 cents
CHARACTERS
THE QUEEN OF HEARTS
A High School Comedy in One Act
By Gladys Ruth Bridgham
Three males, three females. Costumes, modern; scenery, a single interior. Plays one hour. Three seminary girls go to the masquerade on the sly, get mixed up there with some students and have a narrow escape from detection. Their later anxieties are complicated by the fact that they discover that one of the younger members of their own faculty was also there; but this later suggests a plan by which they escape. Very bright and breezy and full of fun and action.
Price, 15 cents
LOOK OUT FOR PAINT
A Farce Comedy in Three Acts
By Cornelius Shea
Five males, four females. Costumes, modern; scenery, one interior and one exterior. Plays an hour and a half. An elderly maiden, making a “flash” at a summer boarding-house, runs into a young artist with whom she has corresponded through a matrimonial bureau. He is an admirer of the landlady’s daughter and tells her the facts before the lady has seen him. She induces Roamer, a tramp house-painter, to exchange identities with his fellow artist with side-splitting results. A capital piece, full of humor and very easy. Recommended for schools.
Price, 25 cents
WILLOWDALE
A Play in Three Acts by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Seven males, five females. Scenery, two easy interiors; costumes, modern. This is a play of exceptional interest and power. Admirably suited for amateur performance, all the parts being good. Godfrey is an admirable heavy part, Joel, Lem and Simon capital character parts, Mis’ Hazey a novel eccentric bit, and Oleander a part of screaming comedy. Plays two hours and a quarter.
Price, 25 cents
THE VILLAGE SCHOOL MA’AM
A Play in Three Acts by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Six males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenes, an interior and an exterior, or can be played in two interiors. Plays two hours or more. Combines a strong sympathetic interest with an abundance of comedy. The parts are unusually equal in opportunity, are vigorously drawn and easily actable. No dialect parts, but plenty of variety in the comedy roles and lots of amusing incident. Can be strongly recommended.
Price, 25 cents
BAR HAVEN
A Comedy in Three Acts by Gordan V. May. Six males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors and an exterior, not difficult. Plays two hours. An excellent piece, mingling a strongly serious interest with abundant humor. Offers a great variety of good parts of nearly equal opportunity. Admirably suited for amateur performance, and strongly recommended.
Price, 25 cents
DOWN IN MAINE
A Drama in Four Acts by Charles Townsend. Eight male, four female characters. This play has no villains, no tangled plot nor sentimental love scenes; yet the climaxes are strong, the action brisk, and the humor genial, and the characters strongly drawn. Can be played in any hall; scenery, of the easiest sort. Properties, few and simple; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. Strongly recommended.
Price, 25 cents
HIGBEE OF HARVARD
A Comedy Drama in Three Acts by Charles Townsend. Five males, four females. Modern costumes; scenes, two interiors and an exterior—the latter may be played as well in an interior, if preferred. Plays a full evening. A clever, up-to-date piece, well suited for amateur performance. No small parts; all good. Good plot, full of incident, no love-making, interest strong and sustained.
Price, 15 cents
HOW JIM MADE GOOD
A Comedy Drama in Four Acts by Charles S. Bird. Seven males, three females; two male parts can be doubled. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays two hours. An unusually sympathetic play, well suited to amateurs. Clean and easy to get up. Recommended to high schools. All the parts are good.
Price, 25 cents
MERRY MONEY MAKERS
A Collection of Entertainments for Church or Lodge Performance, Adapted to any Sect or Community
In this volume we have assembled several entertainments calling for a large number of characters such as are in demand for Church and Sunday-School performance in order to employ the services of as many of the children as possible. With these are offered several other popular pieces, new and old.
Price, 25 cents
CONTENTS
SHORT PLAYS FOR SMALL PLAYERS
A Collection of Entertainments for Children of All Ages
By Edith Burrows, Gladys Ruth Bridgham and others
This volume offers eight entertainments, old and new, intended for the use of schools and carefully selected to that end. Cleanliness and dramatic interest have been the chief criteria in selection, but the effort has also been made, where this could be done without obtruding it, to embody improving suggestion. The wise youngsters of this advanced generation scent a “moral” afar off and are prone to repel its stern advances, but it is always possible to surround the pill of improvement with a palatable jam of fun.
Price, 25 cents
CONTENTS
CLEVER COMEDIES
For Female Characters
A Collection of Selected Entertainments for Ladies Only by Popular Authors
This collection gives an admirable opportunity to make choice at a small cost of an entertainment for schools or amateur theatricals. All the pieces that it contains have been successful as independent books and are very varied in casts and character.
Price, 25 cents
CONTENTS
THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE
An Entertainment in One Scene by Jessie A. Kelley. Twenty-two males and twenty females are called for, but one person may take several parts and some characters may be omitted. The stage is arranged as a country store and post-office in one. Costumes are rural and funny. Plays a full evening. Full of “good lines” and comical incident and character. Strongly recommended for church entertainments or general use; very wholesome and clean.
Price, 25 cents
MISS FEARLESS & CO.
A Comedy in Three Acts by Belle Marshall Locke. Ten females. Scenery, two interiors; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. A bright and interesting play full of action and incident. Can be strongly recommended. All the parts are good. Sarah Jane Lovejoy, Katie O’Connor and Euphemia Addison are admirable character parts, and Miss Alias and Miss Alibi, the “silent sisters,” offer a side-splitting novelty.
Price, 25 cents
LUCIA’S LOVER
A Farce in Three Acts by Bertha Currier Porter. Eight females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays an hour and a half. A bright and graceful piece, light in character, but sympathetic and amusing. Six contrasted types of girls at boarding-school are shown in a novel story. Lots of fun, but very refined. Easy to produce and can be strongly recommended.
Price, 25 cents
A GIRL IN A THOUSAND
A Comedy in Four Acts by Evelyn Gray Whiting. Fourteen females. Costumes, modern; scenes, three interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. Very strong and sympathetic and of varied interest. Irish comedy; strong “witch” character; two very lively “kids”; all the parts good. Effective, easy to produce, and can be strongly recommended as thoroughly wholesome in tone as well as amusing.
Price, 25 cents
MRS. BRIGGS OF THE POULTRY YARD
A Comedy in Three Acts by Evelyn Gray Whiting. Four males, seven females. Scene, an interior; costumes, modern. A domestic comedy looking steadfastly at the “bright side” of human affairs. Mrs. Briggs is an admirable part, full of original humor and quaint sayings, and all the characters are full of opportunity. Simply but effectively constructed, and written with great humor. Plays two hours.
Price, 25 cents
TOMMY’S WIFE
A Farce in Three Acts by Marie J. Warren. Three males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays an hour and a half. Originally produced by students of Wellesley College. A very original and entertaining play, distinguished by abundant humor. An unusually clever piece, strongly recommended.
Price, 25 cents
A FOUL TIP
A Comedy Drama in Three Acts
By Charles S. Allen
Seven males, three females. Costumes, modern; scenery, one exterior scene, not changed. Plays two hours. The safe at Irving’s factory is robbed and three persons are under suspicion, which finally settles most strongly on Verne Gale, the hero, who, to protect Hal Irving, old Irving’s son, whom his sister Nellie loves and whom he believes to be the real culprit, keeps his mouth shut save for protesting his own innocence. “Uncle” Tim Purdy is loyal to him and, with the aid of Pete Adams, the colored pitcher of the Westvale nine, finally discovers the real culprit. A strong play with unusual strength and variety of character and abundance of humorous lines and incidents. Very highly recommended.
Price, 25 cents
CHARACTERS
Members of the ball team, villagers, etc.
DADDY
A Comedy in Three Acts
By Lilli Huger Smith
Four males, four females. Costumes, modern; two easy interiors. Plays an hour and a half. Mr. Brown exhausts all the resources of science, including smallpox and diphtheria signs, in an endeavor to keep away the admirers of his daughter whom he wishes to keep at home. He finally asks Dr. Chester, who is privately in love with her, to help him to dissuade her from becoming a trained nurse. The doctor does so by marrying her himself. Very clever and amusing; full of wit and of high tone. Strongly recommended.
Price, 25 cents
CHARACTERS
A NEW START
A Comedy in Four Acts
By C. A. Pellanus
Seven males, two females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays an hour and a half. A very funny play intended for performance by boys or young men.
CHARACTERS
Price, 15 cents
TOO CLEVER BY HALF
A Comedy in Three Acts
By C. A. Pellanus
Six males, two females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays an hour and a quarter. Very lively and funny; intended for performance by boys or young men.
CHARACTERS
Price, 15 cents
THE FIRST DAY OF THE HOLIDAYS
A Comedy in Four Acts
By C. A. Pellanus
Six male characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays an hour and a half. An exceptionally brisk and humorous piece intended for male characters only.
CHARACTERS
Price, 15 cents
A REGIMENT OF TWO
A Farcical Comedy in Three Acts by Anthony E. Wills. Six males, four females. Modern costumes. Scene, an interior, the same for all three acts. Plays a full evening. A lively, up to-date farce, easy to produce and full of laughs from beginning to end. All the parts good—no small ones. German comedy characters for both male and female, and “wild west” character part and English character comedy. Strongly recommended.
Price, 25 cents
MISS BUZBY’S BOARDERS
A Comedy in Three Acts by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Five male, six female characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, two easy interiors. Plays two hours. In a lighter vein than this writer’s other pieces, but just as strong, and offers plenty of comedy. All the parts good; four call for strong acting. Several good character parts and effective heavy character. Dialogue especially good. A sure hit.
Price, 25 cents
VALLEY FARM
A Drama in Four Acts by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Six males, six females. Scenery, two interiors and an exterior. Costumes, modern. An admirable play for amateurs, very sympathetic in theme, and with lots of good parts. Hetty is a strong lead, and Perry Deane and Silas great parts; while Azariah, Lizy Ann Tucker and Verbena are full of fun. Plays a full evening.
Price, 25 cents
THE MISSING MISS MILLER
A Comedy in Three Acts by Harold A. Clarke. Six males, five females. Scenery, two interiors; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. A bright and up-to-date farce comedy of the liveliest type. All the parts good; full of opportunity for all hands. Easy to produce and strongly recommended. Good tone; might answer for schools, but is a sure hit for amateur theatricals. Professional stage rights reserved.
Price, 25 cents
OUT OF TOWN
A Comedy in Three Acts by Bell Elliot Palmer. Three males, five females. Scene, an interior, the same for all three acts; costumes, modern. Plays an hour and a half. A clever and interesting comedy, very easy to produce and recommended for amateur performance. All the parts good. A safe piece for a fastidious audience, as its theme and treatment are alike beyond reproach.
Price, 25 cents
GADSBY’S GIRLS
A Farce in Three Acts by Bertha Currier Porter. Five males, four females. Costumes, modern; scenery, an exterior and an interior. Plays an hour and a half. An exceptionally bright and vivacious little piece, full of action. Gadsby’s adventures with the fiancées of three of his friends are full of interest and fun. All the parts good. Well suited for high school performance.
Price, 25 cents
A. W. Pinero’s Plays
Price, 50 Cents Each
MID-CHANNEL Play in Four Acts. Six males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays two and a half hours.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH Drama in Four Acts. Eight males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, all interiors. Plays a full evening.
THE PROFLIGATE Play in Four Acts. Seven males, five females. Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening.
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS Farce in Three Acts. Nine males, seven females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening.
THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY Play in Four Acts. Eight males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening.
SWEET LAVENDER Comedy in Three Acts. Seven males, four females. Scene, a single interior, costumes, modern. Plays a full evening.
THE THUNDERBOLT Comedy in Four Acts. Ten males, nine females. Scenery, three interiors; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening.
THE TIMES Comedy in Four Acts. Six males, seven females. Scene, a single interior; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening.
THE WEAKER SEX Comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, eight females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays a full evening.
A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE Comedy in Three Acts. Five males, four females. Costumes, modern; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening.
Sent prepaid on receipt of price by
Walter H. Baker & Company
No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts
The William Warren Edition of Plays
Price, 15 Cents Each
AS YOU LIKE IT Comedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four females. Costumes, picturesque; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening.
CAMILLE Drama in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening.
INGOMAR Play in Five Acts. Thirteen males, three females. Scenery varied; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening.
MARY STUART Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four females, and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the period; scenery, varied and elaborate. Plays a full evening.
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE Comedy in Five Acts. Seventeen males, three females. Costumes, picturesque; scenery varied. Plays a full evening.
RICHELIEU Play in Five Acts. Fifteen males, two females. Scenery elaborate; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening.
THE RIVALS Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Scenery varied; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening.
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER Comedy in Five Acts. Fifteen males, four females. Scenery varied; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening.
TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL Comedy in Five Acts. Ten males, three females. Costumes, picturesque; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening.
Sent prepaid on receipt of price by
Walter H. Baker & Company
No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts
S. J. PARKHILL & CO., PRINTERS, BOSTON, U.S.A.