Short and Sweet: A Comic Drama, in One Act

Title: Short and Sweet: A Comic Drama, in One Act

Author: Adolphus Charles Troughton

Release date: July 27, 2016 [eBook #52661] Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52661

Credits: Produced by Paul Haxo with special thanks to the University of California, Davis and Fordham University, especially to Patrice Kane and Vivian Shen of the Department of Archives and Special Collections at the William D. Walsh Family Library.

SHORT AND SWEET.

A Comic Drama,

IN ONE ACT.

BY

ADOLPHUS CHARLES TROUGHTON, ESQ.,

AUTHOR OF

“Living too Fast,” “Leading Strings,” “Wooing in Jest and Loving in Earnest,” “Vandyke Brown,” “Shameful Behaviour,” &c.

THOMAS HAILES LACY,

89, STRAND,

(Opposite Southampton Street, Covent Garden Market,)

LONDON.

[Pg 2]

SHORT AND SWEET.

First performed at the Strand Theatre (under the Management of Mr. SWANBOROUGH, Sen.), on the 10th of October, 1861.

SCENE—Near the Crystal Palace.

[Pg 3]

SHORT AND SWEET.

SCENE.—Short and Sweet’s Lodgings, near the Crystal Palace—a handsomely furnished Apartment, door, C.—backed by landing and staircase, doors, L. 1. E. and 2 E.—fireplace, L. in flat—looking glass over mantelpiece—vases and ornaments on mantelpiece—fender, fireirons, &c.—door, R. 2 E.—a large round table, R., laid for luncheon for four—chairs—an easy chair, L. of table—sofa against R. in flat—sideboard against L. in flat—a work table and chairs, L.—footstool near sofa.

MRS. SWEET is seen, R., arranging the remains of a luncheon, from which she and MRS. SHORT are supposed to have just risen—MRS. SHORT sitting working at table, L.

MRS. SWEET. That tiresome husband of mine! What has he done with himself?

MRS. SHORT. Compose yourself, my dear; men of business, you know, are not always their own masters. My good man, you see, has not found his way back yet.

MRS. SWEET. Ah, you quite spoil Mr. Short. You know we don’t agree upon that subject. (calls) Come, come, William, come and take your lunch!

SWEET. (within, R. door) In one minute, my dear. I’m only just drying my hands.

MRS. SWEET. Vexatious! We shan’t get the things cleared away all day.

Enter MR. SWEET, door, R. 2 E.

SWEET. Sorry to keep you waiting—couldn’t help it, upon my honour. Just as I was leaving the office, as the deuce would have it, in came a gentleman on business—large transfer of stock, &c. &c.—and so I lost the train. Never mind, there’s plenty of time, so I’ll just snap up a bit of something, and be ready in the crack of a whip. (sit at table, R., and eats voraciously)

MRS. SWEET. Why, how you are eating, William! One would think you hadn’t tasted anything before to-day.

SWEET. Nor more I have—to speak of—I was so late this morning, that I was obliged to run away without my breakfast.

[Pg 4]

MRS. SHORT. Oh, Mr. Sweet, how can you say so? Why, I helped you to half a dozen kidneys, at least—there wasn’t one left in the dish for Mr. Short, when he came down after you left.

MRS. SWEET. Ha, ha, ha!

SWEET. No—did you, though? My impression was I only took a cup of tea; (eats voraciously) but the fact is, I have so much upon my stomach—I mean upon my mind—in the way of business, that really these things make very little impression. However, hang business for to-day, at all events—we shall have a splendid afternoon for our ride—you’ll enjoy it, I know, Mrs. Short, immensely.

MRS. SHORT. Oh, yes, that I shall of all things—I haven’t been out for a ride once since my marriage, and I used to be such a horsewoman.

SWEET. No; Short don’t like it, I know.

MRS. SWEET. I should like to see Mr. Short on horseback, amazingly—ha, ha!—since Gilpin’s ride to Edmonton—ha, ha!

MRS. SHORT. Ha, ha, ha! (checking herself) And yet, though Henry is rather inclining to be stout, you must admit that he carries himself remarkably well.

SWEET. (to MRS. SWEET) Really, my dear, you are too severe upon Short.

MRS. SWEET. I beg your pardon, Louise, I’m sure—I’m such a simpleton, I must always laugh when I shouldn’t—however, I think you had better make your arrangements independently of him, for although I don’t want to be a wet blanket, I am convinced he won’t go.

SWEET. No, no—I’ll undertake to persuade him when he comes in. (STEPHEN is seen to cross C. from R. to L.) Isn’t that Stephen going down stairs? Here, Stephen.

Enter STEPHEN, L. C.

Step over the way, to the livery stables, and tell them to send round the horses I chose on my way to town this morning—then go on to Mr. Billington’s—my compliments, and we shall be happy to join him this afternoon for a ride, at the appointed time—two o’clock. Let’s see, where did the note say we were to meet him?

MRS. SHORT. (eagerly) In front of the Crystal Palace.

SWEET. Ah, exactly—don’t forget, Stephen—two o’clock precisely.

STEPH. Two o’clock, sir—yes, sir.

Exit, L. C.

SWEET. (rising and rubbing his hands) Come, that’s nicely arranged—we shall have a charming ride over to Dulwich, see the pictures, and get back in plenty of time to dress before we start to dine with Billington, and then with the box at the [Pg 5]opera, which he has so politely presented us with, we shall have made out the day, in a very superior, and I think I may almost venture to say, aristocratic manner. Come ladies, make haste, get your habits on, or the horses will be here before you are ready, and you know I can’t bear to be kept waiting.

MRS. SWEET. I like that vastly.

SWEET. What’s the matter?

MRS. SWEET. You can’t bear to be kept waiting! but you don’t mind keeping other people waiting—then, too, I am to be ordered about at beck and call—everything arranged for me beforehand!—I think at least you might have enquired whether I felt disposed to join you.

MRS. SHORT. Oh, I’m sure, Fanny——

SWEET. Why, my dear Mrs. Sweet, you heart the whole thing canvassed this morning between me and Mrs. Short, and you never made the smallest objection. Besides, haven’t I only just made you a present of a magnificent riding habit—cost me ten pounds—and one of the most wicked little wide-awakes in the world, with a bunch of cock’s feathers, all drooping over the crown! Come, now, you know you are dying to put them on.

MRS. SWEET. You think so, do you!

SWEET. Yes, to be sure I do—you know you’re an arrant coquette.

MRS. SWEET. I sir!—a coquette.

SWEET. Ah! ah! didn’t I surprise you trying your hat on fifty different ways before the glass this very morning—you are caught there, I think!

MRS. SWEET. It’s not true! You did nothing of the sort! You’re always saying something of this kind, and since these are the sentiments you entertain of me, I positively refuse to stir a foot with you—so you may go without me! (doggedly seating herself)

MRS. SHORT. (eagerly) Oh, Fanny!

SWEET. (coaxingly) Now, really my dear—you can’t be in earnest.

MRS. SWEET. (pettishly) No, no, I won’t go!—not an inch. (crosses and sits, R.)

SWEET. Very well, Mrs. Sweet! very well! The old story! You haven’t contradicted me before to-day, and so you think it is full time to begin. Was there ever such caprice? (crosses to L.)

MRS. SHORT. (anxiously persuading her) My dear Fanny, now do be reasonable—you are not going to take offence without a cause?—a mere word in joke—Mr. Sweet was only in fun—were you, Mr. Sweet? After all Mr. Billington’s politeness too, surely you’ll go, it would seem so personal.

SWEET. To be sure! Insult a man like Billington! One of the first houses in the City! Most respectable delightful creature [Pg 6]like Billington! Why, he keeps two carriages, a couple of saddle horses, and a buggy!

MRS. SHORT. Come now, Fanny, say you’ll go.

SWEET. (coaxingly) Do! There’s a ducky!

MRS. SWEET. Well, perhaps, I’ve been too hasty—say you didn’t mean it, William.

SWEET. Oh no, my love—upon my honour I didn’t mean it!

MRS. SWEET. Well, then, as Mr. Billington will be expecting us, I suppose I must go.

MRS. SHORT. Now, if my husband would but come.

MRS. SWEET. Oh, never mind him—if he is not in in time we’ll go without him. Come, we haven’t a minute to spare, the horses will be here directly.

Exit MRS. SWEET, door, L. 2. E., and MRS. SHORT, door, L. 1. E.

SWEET. (looking after them) “We’ll go without him!” Exactly! That’s the way she carries it! if I had been the absentee, and had only been a quarter of a minute behind time, she would go without me, as lieve as look at me—she treats me as if I had been married twenty years instead of half as many months. But all applies to Short, just as well as to me, and yet how he lords it over his wife—she actually seems to doat upon him—fondles him—pats him, gives way to him—whereas Mrs. Sweet expresses her affection for me by snapping and snubbing, and constant contradiction. It’s extraordinary, I never perceived it before we took these joint lodgings down here for the sake of being near the Crystal Palace, for if we did sometimes quarrel I always coaxed her into good temper again, but since I have witnessed Short’s happiness I confess my eyes are opened to the different state of things existing in the two families, and I acknowledge that it irritates me! annoys me! for I begin to feel

myself in a very false and ridiculous position! Oh, I must turn over a new leaf!—I really must! I wonder how Short does it, for he is nothing like so good-looking as I am—on the contrary, although he is my most particular friend, he’s a confoundedly ugly fellow.

Enter STEPHEN, L. 1 E.

STEPH. The horses are at the door, sir.

SWEET. Very well, get my whip.

STEPHEN takes one off sofa, and gives it to SWEET, and exits, L. C.

SWEET. It’s astonishing what an excitement I’ve worked myself into! (lashing the air with his whip) I hope my wife won’t happen to come in just now, I am hardly safe to be trusted with this whip.

[Pg 7]

SHORT. (outside) Are the lunch things taken away? I am almost famished.

SWEET. There he is, happy man!

Enter SHORT, door, L. C.

SHORT. (speaking as he comes in) Here, give me a chair! Give me a chair! I am tired to death—fussed and worried out of my life!

SWEET. Why, how late you are! We had almost given you up.

SHORT. You’re a pretty fellow to complain—here have I been chasing about the city all day on any empty stomach—I can’t neglect my business as you do, and then I’m to be told you had nearly given me up, forsooth. Here, Stephen, bring me up something or other to eat. Why you have hardly left a scrap upon the table—Stephen, some come meat! (sits in easy chair, L. of table, R.)

SWEET. What, are you going to make a heavy luncheon at this hour of the day. I am surprised at that habit of yours, Short, I rarely take anything between breakfast and dinner.

SHORT. Nor more do I when I get down first. Who devoured the whole dish of kidneys, and left me nothing for my breakfast but half a round of cold toast? But, what’s all that about outside? They’re parading four horses up and down before the house—one great brute nearly ran over me as I was crossing the road.

SWEET. (sits R. of table, L.) That’s exactly what you said when you knocked down that Shetland pony in the Borough and trod upon it, and then came fainting into a pastrycook’s shop, swearing you had been run over. What, didn’t I tell you then that we are all going out for a ride?

SHORT. What do you mean by all? I am not going, I can tell you. Do you think, at my time of life, I would trust myself to the back of a horse from a livery stable? Why, when I was fifteen or twenty years younger, in my wildest days, I never permitted myself anything beyond a donkey on the sands at Ramsgate, and then only a quiet one. I never could bear a fiery donkey.

SWEET. Come now, you are not going to spoil sport—your wife has set her heart upon it. (rises and goes to SHORT)

SHORT. My wife, Sweet, never sets her heart upon anything but what mine’s set on too, so you may send back two of the horses, I promise you.

SWEET. Do you mean to say you are going to take this step without first consulting your wife?

SHORT. Of course, I am.

[Pg 8]

SWEET. What, on your own private authority, refuse Mrs. Short?

SHORT. Refuse! There will be no necessity for that—I shall just say I don’t go, and she won’t go either.

SWEET. (imitating) Oh, you’ll just say “You don’t go,” and she won’t go either, eh? (aside) Bluebeard! (aloud) Now really, Short, you are joking with me!

SHORT. You’ll soon see whether I’m in earnest.

SWEET. What, do you mean to pretend that she’ll give in without disputing the point—without a quarrel?

SHORT. Not the slightest—my wife always does as I wish her.

SWEET. Oh, so does mine, so does mine, when we both wish alike. Come, I bet you five pounds she goes.

SHORT. Done! I tell you what it is, Sweet, when a woman once falls violently in love with a man there’s no end to the influence he has over her.

SWEET. (aside) Conceited old hippopotamus! (aloud) You’ll lose your money, depend upon it, she’ll not give way.

SHORT. Well we shall see about that, for here she comes.

Enter MRS. SHORT, in hat and riding habit, through door, L. 1 E.

MRS. SHORT. Well, here you are, my dear, at last. (with marked playfulness patting his cheek) You naughty hubby to be so late. (crosses to SHORT)

SHORT. Yes, Loo, here I am, very tired, I can tell you, and ravenous for something to eat.

MRS. SHORT. Oh, dear, dear, what can I tell them to get you?

SHORT. Never mind, there is something coming—I have taken care of myself—but, bless my heart, Loo, how smart you are! Why, you look as if you were going to “ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross.”

MRS. SHORT. (timidly) Fanny and Mr. Sweet have been proposing——

SHORT. A ride on horseback—yes, I know—quite a cavalcade. Sweet has been telling me. But shouldn’t you have waited for my return before you gave your consent?

SWEET. (aside) What a terrible crime!

MRS. SHORT. Well, Henry, dear, I didn’t think you would—

SHORT. You know, Louisa, I am not fond of equestrian exercise. I never even go to Astley’s—but since you have been at the trouble of dressing yourself, why I suppose I mustn’t disappoint Mrs. Sweet and her husband.

MRS. SHORT. (pleased) Thank you, Harry, that’s kind.

SWEET. (aside) There’s five pounds in my pocket.

SHORT. (ill-humouredly) At the same time, of course, it will be very dull and uncomfortable for me to be left all alone here [Pg 9]while you are out pleasuring—just like you wives, you always think of yourselves first. (with increasing ill humour) But who the deuce was it put the idea into your head?

SWEET. Why, I did, I believe: but to confess the truth, I should never have dreamt of the thing if it hadn’t been for Mr.——

MRS. SHORT. (alarmed, and checking SWEET) No, no! Never mind—it’s of no consequence—don’t let us talk any more about it! (she begins to pull off her gloves)

SWEET. Why, Mrs. Short—what are you doing? (rises)

MRS. SHORT. I see my husband doesn’t wish me to go, and I feel now it wouldn’t be right to leave him; so, although he has given me full permission to go, I shall not avail myself of his kindness——

SHORT. (looking at SWEET) A—hem!

SWEET. (aside) How on earth does he do it? What can be the nature of the influence? He must do something to her.

MRS. SHORT. Well, since I am not going, I may as well take off my things. (to SWEET) You’ll explain matters to Fanny. (aside) What a fright he gave me! (crossing) Just as everything was arranged so nicely—how vexatious!

Exit through door, L. 1 E.

SHORT. (balancing himself, with his thumbs in his waistcoat, looking triumphantly at SWEET) I told you so. Hand me over five pounds!

SWEET. (taking out his purse and paying the money) It isn’t enough that I am to be made sensible that I’m not half such a happy man as you are, but I’m to pay for the conviction into the bargain! You’re a sorcerer!

SHORT. No—the girl’s devoted to me, that’s all.

SWEET. Go along with you—don’t tell me—it won’t bear thinking about! Zounds, I shall become unhappy if I do—I won’t stand it, Short! Hang me if go to Dulwich either—hang me if I do!—and yet that will be no punishment to Fanny, for she didn’t wish to go herself.

SHORT. Pray don’t let me prevent your going.

Enter STEPHEN, L. C., with cold meat.

(to STEPHEN, L. C.) Come, what a time you’ve been. (he sits down and begins to eat)

SWEET. Stephen.

STEPHEN. Yes, sir.

SWEET. Tell the man to take back the horses to the stables, we are not going.

Enter MRS. SWEET, as he is speaking, dressed in riding hat and habit, through door, L. 2. E.

MRS. SWEET. What do you mean? Not going?

[Pg 10]

SWEET. No, my dear, I have changed my mind. (STEPHEN lingers for further orders)

MRS. SWEET. What for? We are all ready, and here’s Mr. Short come home.

SWEET. Yes, but you see he is busy. (pointing to SHORT, who is eating voraciously) He doesn’t wish to go, and his wife remains at home to keep him company.

MRS. SWEET. But what in the name of goodness has all this to do with us?

SWEET. I tell you, Short doesn’t want to go—and I desire, Mrs. Sweet, there may be no further discussion on the subject—you understand! (imitating SHORT) “I don’t go!” (aside) That’s it, I think, as near as a toucher. (aloud) Stephen, do as I ordered you. (STEPHEN is about to go)

MRS. SWEET. Stop a moment, Stephen.

SWEET. How, Mrs. Sweet, you venture to counter-order——

MRS. SWEET. No, no, but tell me. How strange you are—just now, when I didn’t care about going, you were violently in favour of it; and now that I have consented and dressed myself to please you, you want to stay at home. My dear William—what nonsense! Of course, we must go now you have sent to say so. What can you be thinking about?

SWEET. (aside) There she is again—arguing the point with me! How different with Short; and yet that great hulky fellow, insensible of his own happiness, sits there stuffing ready to burst himself.

SHORT. (looking up from his knife and fork) Well, have you settled the point?

MRS. SWEET. My dear, Stephen is waiting for orders. (coaxingly) You know I have already given way to you, Willie—it’s now your turn.

SWEET. (aside) I feel that I am yielding, and I can’t help it. (aloud) Well, that’s true—so you did. (aside) Short’s laughing at me; but I mustn’t exact too much from her at once.

MRS. SWEET. Come, come—we shall be keeping them waiting.

SWEET. Ah, to be sure, I didn’t think of that. (apologetically to SHORT, and crossing to him) You that makes all the difference, Short. We have friends waiting for us. Stephen, you can tell the man to take back only two of the horses.

STEPHEN. Yes, sir.

Exit, L. C.

MRS. SWEET. There, that’s like a man of sense; you may give me a kiss, and then get your hat, and let us be off.

SWEET. Certainly, Fanny, that habit of yours is monstrously becoming to you! (kisses her—aside) That’s all very well in its way, but I’m a great ass for my pains notwithstanding.

MRS. SWEET. Now, then, are you ready?

SWEET. (putting on his hat and taking his whip) Good bye, [Pg 11]Short, take care of yourself. We shall find you at home I suppose when we come back.

SHORT. Oh, yes, no fear of that. A safe ride to you. Good bye. (Exit SWEET and MRS. SWEET, L. C.) Ha! ha! ha! there he goes! poor tame snake! A model of a husband!

Re-enter, MRS. SHORT door, L. 1 E., without her habit, as at first.

MRS. SHORT. (aside, looking after MR. and MRS. SWEET) There they go. How I should like to be with them!

SHORT. I wish them joy. Ha! ha! Sweet will make more than one wry face when he comes to sit down to dinner. (seeing his wife) Why, Loo, I am afraid you don’t stay at home with a good grace.

MRS. SHORT. Oh don’t say so, I am sure I am always delighted to be with you—besides, it is no less a duty than (in a lower tone) a pleasure to me.