A Farce.
Scene.—Dr. Aconite's office. Table, C., with a display
of vials, one or two books, writing materials, &c.
Chair, L. of table. Two chairs back. Small table, R.,
with chair beside it.
Maggie discovered dusting. Her left hand is wrapped
in a thick covering.
Maggie. 'Pon my sowl, it's the docthor's a jewel,
that he is! Didn't I burn me wid the hot fat, that
made me howl wid the pain uv it? And didn't the
blissid docthor tind me loike his own sisther—wid the
cooling and haling salve for me fisht, and the wee sugar
pills for the faver that was burnin' me up intirely? And
didn't the blissid crayther, wid the bountiful heart in 'im,
charge niver a cint for it, or sthop it out uv the wages uv
a poor girl, as many a hathen would do, bad luck to 'em.
To be sure he did; and, by that same token, it's Maggie
Mullen would run the wide worrld over for the sakes uv
him. Och, but it's little docthoring he has onyhow, and
perhaps I did him a sarvice giving him the practice
loike. Will, if the sick folks only knew how handy he
is, there'd be little rist for the sole uv my fut answering
the bill.
Friskey. Hallo, Maggie! Where's the doctor?
Maggie. Sure it's at his brikfast he is. Can't you
lit him have a little pace for his sowl? What wid
bein' up all night, and runnin' to sick folks all day, it's
little rist he finds onyhow.
Friskey. That's right, Maggie. Keep up a show of
business if there is none. But I'm in the secret.
Maggie. Sacret, is it? Sure there's none.
Friskey. Ah, we know, Maggie, that our friend the
doctor has yet to get his first patient.
Maggie. Indade you're wrong there, Masther Frank.
Haven't I been under his charge, and don't I know the
skilful arts uv him? Indade I do, and can give him the
highest characther.
Friskey. O, I forgot that, Maggie. He's made a
commencement. How's your hand, Maggie?
Maggie. As comfortable as it can be wid the finest
midical attention.
Friskey. That's good. Well, I'll wait for him. (Sits
at table; takes up newspaper.)
Maggie. That's right, sir. He'll be glad to say ye's.
But mind, don't interfare wid his business. Don't tak
his mind off the purshuit uv patients, for it's much they're
wanted, ye's can belave.
[Exit, R.
Friskey. I do belave it. Now here's a man who has
passed a splendid examination, received his diploma, and
settled down in his native village to practise medicine,
but so set are the good people that they will never
patronize him until age and experience have fitted him to
be their medical adviser. Stuff and nonsense! While
he is growing he must starve, unless some way is found
to move their stubborn will. Not a patient—no, I'm
wrong—there's his free patient, Maggie, "The Duchess
of Dublin," as Lucy and I facetiously call her. A free patient!
If we could only contrive to get one of the high and
mighty snobs of the village into his clutches, we'd physic
him until the whole population flocked to his office.
(Knock, L.) Come in. (Enter Lucy Linden, L.) Ah,
Lucy, come in. How d'ye do? (Shake hands.)
Lucy. Where's Adam?
Friskey. The first of men is at his breakfast, replenishing
his exhausted system before renewing the toil of
practice.
Lucy. You're too bad, Frank. The dear fellow must
not be laughed at. You know he has no practice.
Friskey. O, there you're wrong. The first patient
has been found.
Lucy. You don't mean it? Who is it—Squire Prim,
or Aunt Lucy Spear, Mr. Plumpface, or Mr. Oldbuck?
Do tell me. I'm dying to know!
Friskey. A person of greater importance. One with
a high-sounding title.
Lucy. Title—Judge Higgins? General Proof? You
mysterious fellow, why don't you tell me.
Friskey. It's "The Duchess of Dublin."
Lucy. O, pshaw! Maggie Mullen. Frank Friskey,
you're a torment. I really thought 'twas some distinguished
character.
Friskey. Well, the duchess had a fine characther from
her last place. By Jove! an idea.
Lucy. Get rid of it, Frank; it's dangerous.
Friskey. Hush! This is really a magnificent idea.
Our doctor must have patients, for several reasons:
First, he is engaged to a beautiful young lady, whom he
will not marry until his practice will allow him to support
her as he desires—
Lucy. Just as if I cared. I'm sure I'd rather help
him up hill, than to wait for the elegant mansion he
hopes to rear on the summit.
Friskey. There you are interested. In the second
place, his sister is engaged to a fascinating young gentleman,
ahem! and him she will not marry until her brother
can afford to let her leave his house, of which she is the
toiling mistress.
Lucy. And there you are interested.
Friskey. Exactly. Therefore we are both interested
in increasing the doctor's practice as soon as possible.
Lucy. The sooner the better.
Friskey. Now listen to me. Suppose that a high-born
lady, a titled lady of Europe, should visit this country;
should pass through this village; should suddenly be
taken sick. The aid of our good friend the doctor is required.
He is called in. The news spreads like wildfire
through the village. Patients flock to his office. His
fortune is made, and we are happy in our loves.
Lucy. Ah, but where can we find such a patient?
Friskey. She's here beneath this humble roof—"The
Duchess of Dublin," incog.
Lucy. Why, Frank, what a desperate idea!
Friskey. Desperate cases require desperate means.
What say you, will you join me?
Lucy. In what way?
Friskey. We will leave this house at once, separate,
you go to the right, I to the left. Drop in here and there
quite accidentally, and, in confidence, disclose the interesting
news that "The Duchess of Dublin," incog.,
is in the skilful hands of Dr. Aconite. Magnify it a
little, and await the result. I am confident that before
night Adam will be as happy as a rush of complicated
disorders can make an M. D.
Lucy. Capital! only if we are found out—
Friskey. We'll laugh it off as a capital joke. If, in
the mean time, Adam gets a good patient, he'll make his
way to a good practice.
Lucy. It's an absurd idea to exalt our Maggie to so
high a position. Should anybody see her—
Friskey. Ah, but nobody must see her. The duchess
is incog. You must communicate in the strictest confidence,
and have it distinctly understood that not a word
must be said to the doctor about his grand patient.
Lucy. I understand, and you may depend upon me;
only if the worst comes I shall throw all the responsibility
upon you.
Friskey. And I'll agree to take it all. Come, let's
set out.
Lucy. Without seeing Adam?
Friskey. Yes, for I shan't trust you with him until
you are fully committed to this arch plot. Come.
Lucy. What, would you rob me of a sight of my
Adam?
Friskey. Eve-n so. Am I not robbed of the sight of
my Annie?
Lucy. Not even one embrace?
Friskey. As a substitute embrace me. (Throws his
arms around her.)
Lucy (screams). You horrid wretch! (Runs off, L.,
followed by Friskey.)
Dr. A. Am I awake? My friend, my bosom friend,
with his arms about my affianced bride! Pills and powders!
pestle and mortar! am I awake? Well, it's my
usual luck. Day by day I've seen my stock of provisions
sensibly decrease. I have this morning devoured the
last fishball that could be manufactured from the slender
stock of codfish and potatoes. It has vanished, and so
has my love, with the friend of my bosom. There's
nothing left for me now but to make a few slender meals
of my sugar-coated pills, fricassee the canary, and then
slowly but surely starve. (Sinks into chair, L.)
Annie. Well, brother, what would you like for
dinner?
Dr. A. Dinner? ha, ha! Dinner! Well, what say
you to roast turkey with cranberry sauce?
Annie. Brother!
Dr. A. Or roast goose, with guava jelly?
Annie. Brother!
Dr. A. Or roast buffalo, with venison steak, devilled
kidneys, and salmon, with oyster sauce on the half
shell.
Annie. Adam, are you crazy?
Dr. A. Why not? Our dinner must be an imaginary
one, so let's have it as costly and luxurious as possible.
There's nothing in the larder. Let's be extravagant, and
cook it all.
Annie. Why, how you rave! Is the money all gone?
Dr. A. Every cent.
Annie. But the butcher?
Dr. A. Would carve me with his meat-axe if I asked
for credit.
Annie. Then I'll try him. He won't carve me. Now
don't be despondent. We have always had a dinner,
and, depend upon it, you shall to-day.
Dr. A.
"O Woman, in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please;
But, when the dinner seems to lag,
You'll have it, if you boil the puddin'-bag."
Annie, why don't you marry Frank Friskey?
Annie. Adam, why don't you marry the little milliner?
Dr. A. Because I have no patients.
Annie. And I have patience to wait until you get
them before I marry Frank.
Dr. A. But I never shall have a patient. There's
a dead set against me. They're determined I shall not
cure or kill anybody until I kill myself with waiting.
Annie. Not so bad as that, Adam. Be patient, and
wait.
Dr. A. O, humbug! My instruments are all getting
rusty, my pills old, my plasters cracking, and my drops
drying up. Hang it, I'll go and doctor myself for amusement.
(Knock, L.)
Annie. Hush! Perhaps there's a call.
Dr. A. The undertaker, perhaps, in search of a job.
Come in.
Dennis. The top uv the mornin' to ye's. Is the docther
man in—I donno?
Dr. A. Yes, I'm the doctor.
Dennis. Is that so? Yer rivirance, if ye plaze, Squire
Croony wants ye's quick. The ould missus's howlin' in
the pangs uv insinsibility, the young masther's took wid
the jumpin' croup in his skull, and the babby's got the
janders—an' it's pisoned they all are intirely.
Dr. A. What, Squire Croony?
Dennis. The same, yer rivirance, onto the hill
beyant.
Dr. A. O, you've made a mistake. He wants Dr.
Allopath.
Dennis. Niver at all, at all. It's Dr. Ac—Ac—Acraoniting
I was to sind.
Dr. A. (jumping up, and pulling off his dressing-gown).
My coat—quick! quick! (Annie runs off, R.) Maggie,
Maggie, my hat and cane! Here's luck. (Enter
Annie, with coat. He jumps into it.) You're sure
he sent for me?
Dennis. To be sure I am.
Dr. A. Glory! glory! Rich Squire Croony! I'm
a fortunate man. Where's my medicine case? (Runs
to table, R., and takes it.) My good man, I'm terribly
afraid you've made a mistake.
Dennis. Troth, I'm afraid they'll all git well afore
you git there.
Dr. A. That would be fatal—ahem!—to me. I'm
off. I'll return at the earliest possible moment. Should
anybody call, let them wait. Tell them I am suddenly
called to my rich patient, ahem! Squire Croony. (Going
off, L.)
Enter Maggie, R., with Dr. Aconite's hat and cane.
Maggie. Sure, docther, you're not going widout yer
hat?
Dr. A (returning). That would be a mistake. (Puts
on hat.) You're sure, my man—
Dennis. O, bother! Would ye lave them all to die
suddenly wid a long illness?
Dr. A. I'm off. Glory! glory! Luck! (Dances
to door, L., then suddenly stops, straightens himself, and
puts on a serious face). Professional dignity, ahem!
(Struts off, L.)
Annie. Maggie, remember, if anybody calls, "The doctor
has been called to Squire Croony."
[Exit, R.
Maggie. That I will—the dear docther! The luck's
a-coomin'.
Dennis. Ah, ye's the fine gurl! Sure ye's remind
me uv Donnybrook fair, in the ould counthry, wid ye's
rosy cheeks, and pearly teeth, as white as—as—as—tombstones.
Maggie. Ah, will, will! It's the blarney-stone ye've
kissed, sure, in the ould counthry.
Dennis. To be sure I have, colleen. Ah, bliss the
ould sod! Sorry's the day I lift it, wid my own purty
wife, Molly, who's been dead and gone the year, an' me
wid the childers wid their bills open for food loike the
little birds—
Maggie. 'Tis a widerer ye's are?
Dennis. A lone widerer, wid a tear in one eye and the
other wide open tight for a purty girl to fill the sitivation
made vacant by the absince of my Molly.
Maggie. Is it lonesome ye are?
Dennis. Lonesome is it? Begorra! ye may will say
that. Sure there's not blankets enough to kape the chill
out uv me heart, whin I wake in the night and miss the
music uv Molly's snore—for she had a powerful organ,
and could pipe "St. Pathrick's Day" through her nose
widout missing a note. Could ye's riccommend me?
Maggie. Troth, I don't know what ye mane.
Dennis. To a nice, respectable gurl that wouldn't
mind incumbrances in the shape of nine as purty childers
as iver built stone huts or made dirt pies, the darlints.
Maggie. Troth, I think ye've give nine good raisins
why no smart gurl would loike to take the head uv yer
establishment. She'd be loike the ould woman that lived
in a shoe.
Dennis. An' ye couldn't be prevailed upon yeself to
share my fortunes?
Maggie. What's that, ye loonytic? Away wid ye's.
I'll have none uv yer Molly's childers distractin' my
shlumbers. So ye can take yer hat, misther, and yer
lave to onct.
Dennis. O, now, pity the sorrows of a poor lone,
afflicted widower.
Maggie. Git out er that, or I'll break yer skull. Away
wid ye's. (Dennis runs off, L. Runs into Oldbuck,
who enters.)
Oldbuck. O, murder! my foot! you villain! you
scoundrel!
Dennis. I ax yer pardon. Sind me the bill.
[Exit, L.
Oldbuck. Confound you for a blundering fool! Girl,
give me a chair. (Maggie sets chair, R. C. Oldbuck,
groaning, hobbles to it, and sits.) Now, then, where's
the doctor?
Maggie. Sure he's at Squire Croony's.
Oldbuck. Squire Croony's—O, that foot! Why, he
must have a pretty good practice.
Maggie. Ye may will say that. He hasn't ate a morsel
for three days, nor slipt for a wake.
Oldbuck. Now that's a lie—O, my foot! Bring me
a footstool—do you hear? Quick!
Maggie. What's that?
Oldbuck. A footstool, quick, or I'll break this
cane—
Maggie (snatching cane from him). Ye'll be civil, so
yer will, or out uv this house ye go.
Oldbuck. Give me that cane—O, my foot! You
torment.
Maggie. Be aisy now, misther, and till yer business.
Oldbuck. I want the doctor.
Maggie. He's away wid dacint sick folks, that don't
howl and break canes, and the loike, ye ould hathen!
Oldbuck. Do you know who I am?
Maggie. I niver set my two eyes on ye's before the
day, and I niver want to again.
Oldbuck. You're a saucy jade—O, my foot!
Maggie (poking his foot with the cane). Does it
burn.
Oldbuck. O! O! murder! Do you want to kill me?
Maggie. Kape a civil tongue in yer head, and I'll do
ye's no harm.
Oldbuck. When will the doctor return?
Maggie. Soon as he's kilt or cured the sick folks at
Squire Croony's.
Oldbuck. Has he any patients in the house?
Maggie. Yis, one. (Aside.) Sure, I'm his patient;
that's no lie.
Oldbuck. Ah! Male or female?
Maggie. Well, from my sowl, ye's a mighty inquisitive
ould chap. It's a famale.
Oldbuck (aside). Ah, it's true then. Sh! Come
here, my good girl. (Maggie approaches him, and hits
his foot.) O, my foot! You clumsy—
Maggie (poking his foot with the cane). Does it
burn?
Oldbuck. O! O! O! Will you be quiet?
Maggie. If ye'll kape a civil tongue.
Oldbuck. I'm dumb. But tell me—this patient—who
is she? I'll be secret.
Maggie. Sure, ye's mighty mysterious. It's myself.
Oldbuck. You? (Aside.) They said she was incog.
This must be her. And now I look at her, there's a certain
grace about her, a queenly air—O, it's the duchess.
(Aloud.) Your grace—
Maggie. What's that?
Oldbuck. Pardon me, your grace, I failed to recognize,
in this mean attire, the high-born lady, which your highness
must be.
Maggie. The ould fellow's looney. (Pokes his foot
with the cane.)
Oldbuck. O! O! my foot!
Maggie. Will ye's kape a civil tongue?
Oldbuck. Ten thousand pardons. I forgot your disguise.
Maggie. Disguise is it? Troth, it's my belafe that
it's yerself is disguised intirely—in liquor.
Plumpface (outside, L., coughing violently). Where's
(cough) the (cough) doctor? (Enters, L.)
Oldbuck. Old Plumpface, confound him!
Maggie. The doctor, is it? Troth, he's away on a
call. He'll soon return. Take a cheer. (Hands him
chair, L. He sits.)
Plumpface (coughs). O, this infernal cough! I'm in
the last (cough) stages of a decline. (Coughs.)
Maggie. The docther'll cure ye's in a jiffy.
Oldbuck. Not that cough. Egad, he's kept it up for
twenty years, and grows fat on it. Hallo, Plumpface!
I thought Allopath was your medical adviser.
Plumpface. He's a swindle. (Cough.) He does me
no good. (Cough.) I'm going to try the new one.
(Cough.)
Oldbuck. Humbug! Keep your money. There's
nothing the matter with you. You've tried twenty doctors.
They bleed your pocket, and add power to that
infernal cough.
Plumpface. Humbug yourself! (cough) hobbling
round (cough) with that (cough) foot wrapped up.
(Cough.) Stay at home and diet. (Cough.)
Maggie. Ye'll make a die of it some day, sure, wid
that watchman's rattle in ye's throat.
Plumpface (to Maggie). Here (cough), I want to
whisper to you. (Cough.)
Maggie (comes close to him.) D'ye call that a whisper?
Plumpface. Hush! (Cough.) Don't let Oldbuck
hear. (Cough.) How is she? (Cough.)
Maggie. What she d'ye mane?
Plumpface. Hush! The doctor's (cough) patient
here.
Maggie. Is it mysilf? Troth, I'm pickin' up lively.
Plumpface (aside). Her? Can she be the duchess?
It must be, incog. Your grace. (Cough.)
Maggie (aside). Your what?
Plumpface. I'm delighted to (cough) meet your highness.
(Cough.) When did you leave the old country?
(Cough.)
Maggie. The ould counthry, is it?
Oldbuck. Here, this way. (Aside to Maggie.)
Plumpface is an old fool. Don't mind him, your grace.
Maggie. Will, 'pon my sowl, if here isn't a couple of
the quarest ould chaps I iver met. O, here's the docther.
(Gives Oldbuck his cane.)
Enter Dr. Aconite, L. Exit Maggie, R.
Dr. A. The ice is broken. I've cured four individuals
in ten minutes. My fortune's made. (Comes, C.)
Plumpface (jumping up). O, doctor (cough), my
cough!
Oldbuck (jumping up). Dear doctor, my foot—O!
Plumpface. Please attend to me first. (Cough.)
Oldbuck. No, I arrived first, and claim your attention
first.
Plumpface. It's a lie. I sent an hour ago. (Cough.)
Oldbuck. He's a humbug. That cough's hereditary.
Plumpface. You villain! (Shakes fist at Oldbuck.)
Oldbuck. You swindler! (Shakes fist at Plumpface.)
Dr. A. (stepping between them). Gentlemen, be calm.
'Tis the proud boast of medical science that it can settle
all difficulties, mental as well as physical. You need my
aid; but such are the claims upon my time that I cannot,
without doing injustice to my numerous patients,
attend to you at present. Give me your address, and I
will call upon you at the earliest possible moment.
Oldbuck. I am Squire Oldbuck.
Dr. A. (aside). The rich squire—good!
Plumpface. And I am Peter Plumpface. (Cough.)
Dr. A. (aside). The great manufacturer—good!
Oldbuck. I can pay handsomely.
Plumpface. I can pay liberally.
Dr. A. Gentlemen, you shall receive my early attention.
You will pardon me, but I have a patient in the
house who requires my immediate attention.
Oldbuck (aside). "The Duchess of Dublin."
Plumpface (aside). The Dublin duchess. (Cough.
Aloud.) My dear doctor, I have heard of your skill.
May I depend upon you?
Dr. A. At the earliest possible moment.
Oldbuck. You will give me early attention?
Dr. A. Immediate.
Oldbuck. Then I'll hobble home at once. Good day,
doctor. (Aside.) When old Plumpface is out of the
way, I'll slip back again.
[Exit, L.
Plumpface (coughs). I know your skill, doctor (cough,)
and shall depend upon you. Good day. (Cough. Aside.)
I'll come back and quicken his memory when Oldbuck is
out of sight.
[Exit, L.
Dr. A. (rubbing his hands). Ha, ha! that's a capital
joke. Dr. Aconite, poor physician, turns two of the
richest men out of his office to wait his pleasure! But
that's the right way. 'Twill never do to be too anxious.
Egad! they're rich acquisitions; for, though I have
never met them, that cough and that gouty foot have
been the rounds of the medical fraternity. Wonder how
they happened to drop in upon me? No matter; I can
cure them both in time. Ah, Time, you are the doctor's
best friend, for you pay as you go. Luck's come at last,
and that imaginary dinner shall be a real, substantial
feast, to mark the day when Dr. Aconite took his first fee.
Sharpset. Heow d'ye dew. You're Dr. Aconite, I
reckon?
Dr. A. I am.
Sharpset. Jes' so. Wall, I'm Silas Sharpset, E. s. q.,
'he founder and proprietor of the "Excelsior Perambulating
Museum of Wonderful, Whimsical, Extraordinary,
and Eccentric Living Curiosities."
Dr. A. Indeed!
Sharpset. Jes' so. You'll find in my wonderful collection
studies of human nater in every variety. The
remarkable and only original living fat girl, seven years
of age, who has attained the enormous weight of seven
hundred and seventy-seven pounds by a daily diet of molasses
candy and gum drops.
Dr. A. Remarkable, indeed!
Sharpset. Jes' so. Also, the only real living skeleton,
aged thirty-nine, weight seventeen pounds and three
ounces, who lives on oatmeal gruel, eaten by the spoonful,
once in forty-eight hours, who kin crawl through a stove-pipe
of six inches diameter, and dance the Cachuca in
a quart measure.
Dr. A. Ah, that's too thin.
Sharpset. Jes' so. Then there's the man born without
either arms or legs, who can lift a hogshead with his
teeth, and write a remarkably legible hand with his back
hair, which he wears in a cue for that purpose.
Dr. A. Cue-rious, indeed.
Sharpset. Jes' so. Then there's the bald-headed
accountant, with his head so full of figures that he can
run up the longest account in no time, and, by the force
of his stupendous intellect, make the sum total appear in
round figures, visible to the naked eye, on the top of his
head.
Dr. A. A calculating baldhead.
Sharpset. Jes' so. But the assortment is too numerous
to mention. I kin only say, that for variety, versatility,
and invention, this collection is unsurpassed, and kin be
seen in all its beauty for twenty-five cents a head.
Dr. A. Well, sir, what is your business with me?
My time is precious.
Sharpset. Jes' so. Wall, then, to come to the p'int.
You've got a nat'ral living curiosity, and I want it.
Dr. A. I've got a curiosity? So I have—a curiosity
to know what you mean.
Sharpset. Jes' so. Mighty secret, but it's no use,
doctor; it's all over town. You'll have to give in, so you
might as well make the best terms you kin with me, for
I've greater facilities for exhibiting the critter than any
other live man. Jes' so—Silas Sharpset, E. s. q., can't
be beat.
Dr. A. Exhibiting the critter, Mr. Sharpset? There's
a wildness in your eye that betokens insanity. You are
laboring under a wild hallucination. Go hence. Soak
your feet, wrap a wet towel round your head, and return
to your couch at once.
Sharpset. Jes' so. Keep it up, doctor. But it won't
fool me. The critter's here. Turn her over to me, bag
and baggage, and I'll pay you a thousand dollars down.
Dr. A. A thousand dollars—you'll pay me? Be
calm, my friend, be calm. You betray unmistakable
symptoms of a disordered mind. Will you oblige me
with a little explanation?
Sharpset. Jes' so.
Dr. A. Who is the "critter" that you are in pursuit
of?
Sharpset. The duchess, of course. Why, consarn it,
it's all over town.
Dr. A. The duchess? Ah, yes, poor man, lunacy
always takes high flights. Ah, who is the duchess?
Sharpset. Jes' so. Doctor, do you see anything of a
verdant hue in this optic? (Finger on left eye.) It's no
use. "The Duchess of Dublin" is in this house; is under
your charge. Now do the handsome thing. I'll put
her up as an extra attraction, charge double price, and
divide profits. There's an offer.
Dr. A. By doubling your price on "The Duchess of
Dublin"? Now, you must excuse the question, but who
is "The Duchess of Dublin"? and what have I to do
with "The Duchess of Dublin"?
Sharpset. Consarn it, mister, are you a fool?
Dr. A. Now gently, friend. Be calm, be calm.
(Aside.) O, he's very crazy!
Sharpset. Humbug! Will you, or will you not, accept
my offer? Half profits for the duchess. Sharp's
the word! Quick, or you lose it!
Dr. A. My dear friend, it wouldn't hurt you to lose
a little blood. My lancet's handy.
Sharpset. Jehoshaphat! do you take me to be an
idiot?
Dr. A. You'd better go home. Your wife and children
are expecting you. No doubt the little folks are
chanting, with their childish voices, "Dear father, dear
father, come home."
Sharpset. Jes' so. You can't pull wool over my
eyes, doctor. Silas Sharpset is sharpset by name and
sharpset by nater. You can't fool me. You've got a
prize, and want to keep it for yourself; but if I don't set
the populace howling round your door, and make you
show up the duchess, then you can shave my head, and
lock me up for life. No monopolies here in living curiosities
while Sharpset's around—not if he knows it:
jes' so.
[Exit, L.
Dr. A. He's gone—home, I hope. He's very mad.
Why don't his friends take care of him. It's dangerous
to let a man run round with such horrid ideas as are
rambling through his brain. The fat girl, the living
skeleton, the bald-headed accountant, and "The
Duchess of Dublin." 'Pon my word, the idea of my
having under my charge a duchess! O, it's absurd. The
man's crazy; he must be looked after; I'll follow him
(takes hat), and see that he does no damage. (Goes to
door, L.)
Enters, suddenly, Miss Abigail Alllove, with a large
book under her arm. Seizes Dr. Aconite by arm, and
drags him down, C.
Abigail (mysteriously). You are—are you?—or am
I mistaken?
Dr. A. Eh? You may be right, you may be wrong,
or you may be mistaken.
Abigail. You do not answer me; and I, poor lone orphan
that I am, tremble in your presence.
Dr. A. Eh? Are you often alone? Miss, or madam,
let's drop this nonsense. Have, you any business with
me? I am Dr. Aconite.
Abigail. You are the friend of the unfortunate; the
guide of suffering humanity to havens of rest; the
healer of broken hearts; the finger-post that points the
way to the mansion of health. O, human angel, list
to my woes.
Dr. A. Madam, or miss, I shall be happy to aid you
with my professional skill.
Abigail. Professional skill? Away with it. I want
it not. I want sympathy, friendship, love.
Dr. A. Ah, indeed. Then I'm sorry I cannot help
you. They are not in my line.
Abigail. List to a tale of grief. At the age of four I
lost my mother, at the age of ten my father, at the age
of fifteen my sister, at twenty my only brother, at twenty-five
my uncle, at thirty—
Dr. A. O, stop, stop, stop! Spare me. I didn't
kill them. I haven't been in practice a year. You must
see I had no time for such slaughter.
Abigail. I am alone in the world. No relatives, no
friends, "no one to love,"—only this. (Shows book.)
Dr. A. And pray what is that?
Abigail. A treasure millions could not buy. A pearl
of matchless value—my life, my friend, my love—my
autograph album.
Dr. A. O, indeed, is that all? And you want my
autograph? With the greatest pleasure. (Attempts to
take book.)
Abigail. Away! Do not profane it with your touch.
None but the noble stain its spotless pages.
Dr. A. Ah, indeed! Pardon my presumption.
Abigail. No, only the divine wielders of the pen, the
classic movers of the artistic brush, the noble toilers
with the gracing chisel, the seraphic sons and daughters
of song, kings, emperors, queens, the high-born and the
great can dot their i's in Abigail Alllove's autograph
album.
Dr. A. Decidedly select.
Abigail (opening book). Behold the autograph of the
Emperor of China.
Dr. A. (reading). "Will you come and take tea in
the arbor. Te he!" Ah, did you te-ease him for that?
Abigail. The name of the Emperor of the French.
Dr. A. (reading). "Put out the light, and then put—Napoleon."
Which he did. Very good.
Abigail. The Queen of Sheba.
Dr. A. (reading). "Anything on this board for ten
cents. Saloma." Attentive to business, very.
Abigail. Dr. Livingstone.
Dr. A. (reading).
"On, Stanley, on,
Were the last words from Livingstone."
Original, very.
Abigail. Joshua Billings.
Dr. A. (reading). "Duz time fli in fli time? Josh
Billings." That's a very bad spell.
Abigail. Alfred Tennyson.
Dr. A. (reading).
"When I can shoot my rifle clear
To pigeons in the skies,
I'll bid farewell to pork and beans,
And live on pigeon pies."
A. Tennyson."
Abigail. Exquisite poet!
Dr. A. I admire his taste.
Abigail. Now, dear doctor, I would add one other
name to my valuable collection. You can aid me. Will
you? O, say you will—will you? and take the burden
from the heart of a lone orphan.
Dr. A. Madam, or miss, I should be very happy to
assist you—
Abigail. O, rapturous answer! O, noble disciple of
Æsculapius! The lips of the lone orphan will bless you;
the tears of the lone orphan shall bless you; the smiles
of the lone orphan—
Dr. A. Be calm, be calm. In what way can I
assist you?
Abigail. You have beneath your roof a noble lady—
Dr. A. Eh?
Abigail. From a foreign clime. You hold her here
in secret. Let me but get her name in my autograph
album, and Abigail Alllove will die happy.
Dr. A. Noble lady? (Aside.) Another lunatic.
Abigail. Yes, the name of "The Duchess of Dublin."
Dr. A. The—dickens! Stark, staring mad. My
dear young lady, you are laboring under a hallucination.
Go home at once. Call your friends.
Abigail. Alas! I have no friends. Did I not tell
you I am a lone—
Dr. A. Yes, yes; but call in the neighbors, the
kind neighbors—
Abigail. But the duchess! I must see the duchess.
The hopes, the fears, the life of a lone orphan—
Dr. A. Lone orphan, go home; let me alone. I
have no duchess, know no duchess. You are deceived.
No, no, dear, go home.
"Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home."
Abigail. O, you wretch! You mean, contemptible
quack. You have read my album, my precious volume,
and now refuse my request.
Dr. A. But, my dear young lady—
Abigail. Don't come near me! You've broken the
heart of a lone orphan. You're a base, ungrateful,
ugly, miserable pill-box! and I hope you'll never live
to own an autograph album—there!
[Exit, L.
Dr. A. Good by, lone orphan. Now there's a case
that requires immediate attention. Poor thing! I
ought not to have let her go until her friends appeared.
(Enter Dennis, L. Stands in door, beckoning to Dr.
Aconite.) Hallo! who's that?
Dennis (mysteriously). Sh! sh! (Creeps down, C.,
beckoning to Dr. Aconite.)
Dr. A. Well, what is it?
Dennis. It's all right, docther, it's all right.
Dr. A. Well. I'm glad to know that, at any rate.
Dennis. Yis, I'll not brathe a word. It's from the
owld counthry I am.
Dr. A. That's very evident.
Dennis. An' it's mysilf that would give the worrld to
sit my two eyes on her. Now, docther, it's a lone
widdyer I am, an' would ye's go for to do me a kindness?
Dr. A. To be sure I would.
Dennis. Hiven bliss ye! Thin fich her out. Let me
faist my eyes on her beautiful face, her illigant, dignified
figure. Let me kiss the him of her magnificent dress,
and hear her swate voice spake the brogue of the gim
of the say.
Dr. A. What are you talking about? Who do you
want to see?
Dennis. You know will what I mane—her grace,
the noble, moighty, illigant "Duchess of Dublin."
Dr. A. What? "The Duchess of Dublin?" Out
of my house at once, or I shall do you an injury.
Dennis. Faix, you don't mane it. Rob an Irishman
of his right to pay his rispicts to a high-born lady uv his
own counthry?
Dr. A. Do you see that door?
Dennis. Faix, I'm not blind.
Dr. A. Then get the other side of it at once. (Takes
cane.) I've had enough of "The Duchess of Dublin."
Dennis. Is that so? Thin I'm the b'y to take her off
ye's hands.
Dr. A. Will you leave this house?
Dennis. To be sure I will, afther I've seen her grace.
Dr. A. (rushes at him with cane). O, you will have
it—will you?
Dennis (backing to door). Aisy, docther; I want
none uv ye's medicine. But I'll say the duchess, so I
will, wid ye's lave or widout it.
[Exit, L.
Dr. A. Has the whole village gone crazy? or is this
some infernal plot to drive me into hopeless lunacy?
Plumpface coughs outside, then enters, L.
Plumpface. Doctor (cough), I thought you were coming
to (cough) see me?
Dr. A. I'll be there in half an hour, Mr. Plumpface.
Business of a very serious nature has detained me here.
Plumpface. Yes (cough), I know. She kept you.
Dr. A. She—Who do you mean?
Plumpface. O (cough), it's all right, doctor. I'm in
the secret. (Cough.) I've seen her; spite of her disguise,
I knew her at once. (Cough.)
Dr. A. Knew her at once? Who, pray?
Plumpface. O, you sly dog! (Cough.) The duchess.
Dr. A. Heavens and earth! She here again?
Plumpface. She hasn't been away—has she?
(Cough.)
Dr. A. Look here, Plumpface. Go home, quick!
Go to your room, get into bed, and don't stir until I get
there.
Plumpface. What's the matter now?
Dr. A. Your case has taken a serious turn. You
are going to get rid of that cough. It's going to your
head. You will be mad.
Plumpface. Mad? You don't say so! What a horrible
idea! I'm afraid you're right. I haven't coughed
for three minutes. O, doctor, is there no hope?
Dr. A. Don't stop to talk. Get home at once.
(Pushes him out of door, L.) Run for your life. How
he goes! The exercise will do his lungs good; but his
head, poor fellow! He's got the duchess fever.
Oldbuck. I say, doctor, what's the matter with
Plumpface? I met him, running. Is there a fire anywhere?
Dr. A. Yes, very near him—in his head. It has
been turned.
Oldbuck. You don't say so. By what, pray?
Dr. A. By "The Duchess of Dublin."
Oldbuck. Egad! she's enough to turn anybody's
head. But I say, doctor, how is she?
Dr. A. What?
Oldbuck. I'm mightily interested in her. How's she
getting along? I've seen her, too.
Dr. A. O, this is too much. Oldbuck, look at that
foot.
Oldbuck. What's the matter?
Dr. A. It's swelling fearfully. A dangerous symptom.
It must be kept down. (Steps on his foot.)
Oldbuck. O, murder! Confound you, what are you
doing?
Dr. A. Keeping down the swelling. (Steps again.)
Oldbuck. O! Do you want to murder me?
Dr. A. (steps again. Oldbuck avoids him, and runs
round stage, crying out). I tell you, there's no other
way. (Steps.) Get home, quick! (Steps.) Quick!
If the swelling continues (steps) 'twill reach a vital part.
(Steps.) Go home! (Oldbuck runs out, L., crying out.)
He's gone. No more practice to-day. (Locks door.)
O, that infernal duchess! She's nearly driven me mad,
mad, mad! (Sinks into chair.)
Annie. O, brother, what does it all mean? The yard
is filled with people.
Enter Maggie, R., with broom.
Maggie. And the fince is covered wid bys, roosting
loike so many hins. I'll have them off, jist. (Goes, L.)
Dr. A. Stop! Don't open that door. My life's in
danger if you open that door. (Shouts outside, "Hi!
hi! The duchess! the duchess!") O, Lord! the whole
village has got it—and got it bad. O, Annie, if you
love me, send for Dr. Allopath, send for Judge Busted,
or I am completely busted.
Annie. Brother, are you sick? What does this
mean?
Frank. It means fame, fortune. O, it's glorious!
Dr. A. Glorious to have your front yard filled with
a howling, yelling pack? Hear that. (Shouts outside,
"Hi! hi! The duchess! the duchess!")
Frank. O, that's all right.
Dr. A. (jumping up). All right! And perhaps 'twas
all right when I saw you a half hour ago with your arms
around my affianced bride.
Annie. You did? O, Frank, how could you?
Frank. It's all right, I tell you. (Shouts outside, as
before.) I can explain. But, in the mean time, we've
work before us. Here, Lucy, just throw that cloud around
your head so your eyes alone will be visible. (She does
so.) That's good. Now, doctor, give Lucy your arm.
Dr. A. But I would like to know—
Frank. So you shall. In the mean time unhesitatingly
obey me. Your professional reputation is at stake.
Give Lucy your arm, go up stairs, open the window, step
out upon the balcony, and gracefully bow to the assembled
people. (Shouts as before.)
Dr. A. Yes, but this proceeding—
Lucy. Is strictly proper. Depend upon it, Adam,
there is no other way.
Dr. A. If there is no other way, will you be kind
enough to tell me what this way is?
Lucy. Right up stairs. Come.
Dr. A. But what is it about?
Lucy. About time we were up stairs—so come
along.
[Exit, Dr. Aconite and Lucy, R.
Annie. Now, Mr. Frank Friskey, I should like to
know—
Frank. Hush! (Goes to door, L. Shouts as before.)
I hear them above. Now he opens the window. Good.
(Outside shouts, "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!") Splendid!
Alice. Will you oblige me—(Outside shouts, "Hurrah!
hurrah! hurrah!")
Frank. Good, good! Ah, now he's shutting the
window.
Maggie. 'Pon my sowl, is it the prisident?
Frank. The crowd is breaking up. (Knock at
door, L.)
Enter Dr. Aconite and Lucy, R.
Dr. A. Will anybody, male or female, be kind enough
to look in my face, and tell me if I am Adam Aconite,
or if I am not Acom Adamite.
Frank. I'll be back in a minute. (Runs off, R.)
Maggie. Sure it's the most mysterious mystery that
iver took place. It bates the deluge, sure. (Knock at
door, L.)
Lucy. Shall I open the door, doctor?
Dr. A. No—yes—don't mind me. I'm not myself.
I'm out of my head. I'm mad, mad, mad! (Sinks
into chair.)
Annie. O, brother! isn't this terrible? (Knock, L.)
Maggie. Bedad, there'll be a breakdown at that door,
or I'm mistaken. (Opens door. Oldbuck, Sharpset,
Plumpface, and Dennis tumble in on floor.) Troth, is
that a pelite way to inter the house? (They pick themselves
up.)
Oldbuck. Introduce me, doctor.
Plumpface. No; me first, doctor.
Sharpset. I'll hold to my bargain.
Dennis. Presint me, docther.
Maggie (swinging her broom round her head). Shoo!
Away wid ye's! Don't you say the docther's sick?
(They fall back.)
Dr. A. (rising). Gentlemen, I am at your mercy.
An hour ago I was the possessor of a noble intellect.
Now, I am like the reed shaken by the blast. To whom
shall I present you?
Oldbuck, Plumpface, Sharpset, Dennis. "The Duchess
of Dublin."
Dr. A. "Monsieur Tonson come again." (Sinks into
chair.)
Maggie. "The Duchess of Dublin." O, be aisy wid
yer nonsinse. Sure there's nobody here that answers to
that name at all at all.
Frank. No, because her grace has just been driven
away in her own carriage. I had the honor of bringing
her here; I have had the honor to conduct her from this
place, and to receive her thanks for the able manner in
which she has been treated by Dr. Aconite.
Dr. A. (comes down, C.). Have you been taken, too,
Frank? Alas! poor fellow!
Frank. O, it's all right! Listen to me. Annie!
Lucy! (Beckons to them. They come down, C. Oldbuck,
Plumpface, Sharpset, and Dennis come down.) Your
pardon, gentlemen, a little family secret.
Maggie (swings her broom around her head). Shoo!
Ye are trespassing, d'ye mind! (They retire.)
Frank. Doctor, for all the trouble you have endured
to-day, I, and I alone, am to blame. We are all interested
in your success, and, to insure that success,
Lucy and I put our heads together.
Dr. A. And your arms about each other—yes.
Frank. And concocted a scheme which has succeeded
admirably. (Oldbuck, Plumpface, Sharpset, and
Dennis look at each other, then stealthily approach, C.)
Maggie (flourishing broom). Shoo! Away wid ye's!
Have ye's no manners, ye hathens?
Frank. You have your hands full of patients now,
from the fact that it has leaked out that you had under
your charge a high-born lady. You know that one good
customer will attract others. Your success is assured,
and our happiness, I trust, not in the distance, as it appeared
to be an hour ago.
Dr. A. And you have deceived the trusty public,
and given me position by a lie.
Frank. No, for "The Duchess of Dublin" is still
under your roof. Have you forgotten the title I gave to
Maggie? and she certainly was your patient.
Dr. A. I never thought of that, Frank. I owe you
much. But if ever you attempt another such trick—
Frank. But I shan't. This one will give me a wife
(takes Annie's hand), and there will be no more mischief
in me.
Dr. A. Lucy, what have you to say for yourself?
Lucy. O, I'm delighted. It brings our wedding day
so much nearer.
Dr. A. Well, I suppose I must be satisfied then.
Gentlemen (all come down R. and L.), I have rather
neglected my business to-day, but, having such a mysterious
patient, I think you will pardon me. I intend,
in the future, to give my attention strictly to village
practice.
Oldbuck. It's all right, doctor. I'm proud to have
as my physician a gentleman who has been the medical
attendant of so distinguished a personage.
Plumpface. Yes, indeed, you've sent my cough off in
a hurry, just by your advice; and if you can keep it
from my head—
Dr. A. No fear, Mr. Plumpface. I'll cure your
head in short order.
Sharpset. Say, doctor, can't you give me the address
of the lady? I'll make her a splendid offer to take a
position in my Living Curiosity Gallery.
Dr. A. No, that would be betraying profound
secrecy.
Dennis. Sacrecy, is it? Be jabers, it's no sacret
that she's gone. Ye've a sthrong lift in the profession,
and I've a mind to engage ye's to docther the
nine childer, if ye'll make the fays conform to the
size uv thim.
Abigail. And has she gone? and am I bereft of
her autograph? O, cruel doctor! to so basely deceive
a lone orphan—
Dr. A. Now don't! Say no more about it, my
dear miss—madam. It was a mistake. If you will
pardon me, I will endeavor to obtain for you the autograph
of the king of the Cannibal Islands, in red
ink, made from the blood of a missionary.
Abigail. Will you? O, then I forgive you, with all
my heart.
Dr. A. (to audience). Ladies and gentlemen, you
have witnessed the success of Dr. Aconite during the
last half hour in obtaining patients. It may possibly
occur to you that they have been obtained by false pretences.
But am I to blame? Maggie, come here.
(Maggie comes down L. of Dr. Aconite.) I am
seeking patients, and want a good recommendation.
What can you say for me?
Maggie. Sure, ye's the illigant docther, so ye are,
an' it's a plisure to be sick wid the chance of being
cured or kilt by the loikes uv ye's.
Dr. A. You hear what she says. Can I hope for
your support? Will you become my regular patients?
If you will, it shall be my endeavor to serve you
well; and you know I can bring a high recommendation
from no less a personage than her grace, "The
Duchess of Dublin."
Situations.
R.Lucy.Dr. Aconite.L.
Annie.Maggie.
Frank.Abigail.
Oldbuck.Sharpset.
Dennis.Plumpface.
CURTAIN.
