At Hotel On-de-Blink
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?
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.).
Mary had some chewing gum,
She chewed it loud and slow;
And everywhere that Mary went
That gum was sure to go.
Case. That boy is some poet.
Weber. He didn’t finish.
Case. Didn’t he?
Weber. No, listen. (Recites.)
It followed her to school one day,
Which was against the rule,
The teacher took it away from her,
And chewed hit after school.
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.
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 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
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.
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?
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:—
When water is changed into ice,
Note de remarkable change in price.
Ruff. You shouldn’t mind dat pessimist, Miss Gotrox; he is
always down in de mouth.
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 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?
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.
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.
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?
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
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
- Apples. One male, one female.
- Fire Flies. One male, one female.
- Heather. One male, one female.
- Picking up the Pieces. One male, one female.
- Half-Way to Arcady. One male, one female.
- Mabel’s Holy Day. Two males, one female.
Twenty minutes each.
Price, 25 cents
IN OFFICE HOURS
And Other Sketches
By Evelyn Greenleaf Sutherland
CONTENTS
- In Office Hours. Comedy Sketch in One Act, five males,
four females.
- A Quilting Party in the Thirties. Outline Sketch for
Music, six males, four females, and chorus.
- In Aunt Chloe’s Cabin. Negro Comedy Sketch in One Act,
seventeen female characters and “supers.”
- The Story of a Famous Wedding. Outline Sketch for
Music and Dancing, six males, four females.
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
- The Soup Tureen. One male, two females.
- Lelia. One male, one female.
- The Unlucky Star. Two males.
- The Serenade. Two females.
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
- Mrs. John Yates, presiding officer.
- Mrs. Silas Curtis, suffragette speaker.
- Mrs. Eben Altman, suffragette speaker.
- Mrs. Eldon Keener, anti-suffragette.
- Mrs. Oscar Dayton, anti-suffragette.
- Mrs. Jonas Harding, anti-suffragette.
- Miss Rosabelle Hyacinth, engaged.
- Miss Priscilla Prudence, would like to be engaged.
- Miss Anna Helder, great on style.
- Mrs. Charles Bates, anti-suffragette.
- Mrs. Russell Sager, suffragette.
- Mrs. Francis Wood, suffragette.
- Silas Curtis, who becomes an ardent advocate of woman suffrage.
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
- Samantha Snodgrass and the Ladies’ Aid. 10 females.
- The Annual Picnic of the Muggsville Sunday-School. 16 males, 24 females.
- Beresford Benevolent Society. 1 male, 7 females.
- The Emigrants’ Party. 24 males, 10 females.
- The Last of the Peak Sisters. 9 males, 7 females.
- The Rag Doll Party. 4 males, 10 females.
- The Summerville Bazar. 21 males, 31 females.
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
- The Key. 16 boys, 17 girls.
- The Children’s Hour. 7 boys, 12 girls.
- School Opera. 5 boys, 3 girls.
- Jack and the Beanstalk. 3 boys, 3 girls.
- Bouquet of Rose Spirits. 8 boys, 18 girls.
- Pat’s Excuse. 1 boy, 1 girl.
- Grammar School Fun. 17 boys, 27 girls.
- A Temperance Frolic. 3 boys, 2 girls, and chorus.
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
- A Corner in Strait-Jackets. 8 ladies and 3 children.
- The Dairy-Maids’ Festival. Any number of young ladies.
- A Daughter-In-Law. 4 ladies.
- Eliza’s Bona-Fide Offer. 4 ladies.
- Gaffer Grey’s Legacy. 8 ladies.
- The Governess. 3 ladies.
- The Grecian Bend. 7 ladies.
- A Sad Mistake. 6 ladies and chorus.
- Slighted Treasures. 4 ladies.
- To Meet Mr. Thompson. 8 ladies.
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
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
- Mr. Wrexson Brown, just like his fellow men.
- Teddy Brown, his son, pursuing football at college.
- Paul Chester, a young doctor.
- Thompson, the Browns’ butler.
- Mrs. Wrexson Brown, just like her fellow women.
- Nellie Brown, her daughter, a débutante.
- Mrs. Chester, Mr. Brown’s sister, pursuing ill-health at home.
- Jane, the Browns’ cook.
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
- Mr. W. Wrightup, alias
- Dr. Phil Graves, R.S.V.P., P.T.O. } a medical student.
- Michael Spowder, his servant, from Tipperary.
- Colonel Ailment, a patient.
- Miss O’Phee, a patient.
- Thomas Wrotter, an ambitious youth.
- Mrs. Langwidge, his aunt, of British origin.
- Mr. Percy Veering, an attorney.
- A Laboring Man.
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
- Judge Simeon Adams, a well-to-do, kindly, pompous old bachelor.
- Miss Burgess, his housekeeper. With matrimonial schemes.
- Nathan Dean, the village constable. Fat-witted, and gullible.
- Howard Foster, a Pinkerton detective. Too clever by half.
- Monsieur Gaspard, a Chef d’ Orchestre.
- B. Flat musicians. Britishers.
- A. Sharp }
- Mrs. Wordy, landlady of the village inn.
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
- Prof. B. Willdard, a naturalist. A short-sighted old man.
- Job Shirker, a shoemaker. Envious of other men’s success.
- Joseph Shirker, his son. A tramp.
- Henry Copper, a police officer and a duffer, born in England.
- Tom Bounder schoolboys. Impertinent and full of high spirits.
- Jim Bounder }
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