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Read Ebook: Past Redemption: A Drama in Four Acts by Baker George M George Melville
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Ebook has 579 lines and 17110 words, and 12 pages
PAST REDEMPTION.
GEORGE M. BAKER.
This play is protected by law, and can only be performed by special arrangement with the author.
BOSTON: GEORGE M. BAKER AND COMPANY. 1875.
PAST REDEMPTION.
GEORGE M. BAKER.
This play is protected by law, and can only be performed by special arrangement with the author.
BOSTON: GEORGE M. BAKER AND COMPANY. 1875.
COSTUMES.
PAST REDEMPTION.
A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS.
STUB. Golly! hear dat now, will you? D-d-dat what I call music in de har, fur it jes make my har stan' on end, yes, it does. And I feel--I feel jes as dough I was skewered onto dat ar fiddle-bow, an' bein' drawed frou a sea ob bilin' merlasses. Golly, so sweet!
NAT. There's a first-class puff for you, Hanks, from the mouth of a critic--with a black border.
TOM. You do beat all nater, Hanks, with the fiddle; your hand is as cute, and your ear as fine, as though the one had never held a plough, or the other listened to the jingling of a cowbell. Talk of your genuses. Give me the chap that's a Jack at any thing, from digging ninety tater-hills afore breakfast, to sparking a pretty girl at 'leven o'clock on a starlight night.
STUB. Wid de ole man comin' roun' de corner ob de house wid a double-barrel rebolver, "You scoot or I shoot." Don't forget de embellishments, Tom Larcom.
NAT. Ha, ha! had you there, Tom.
TOM. What are you laughing at? If old Corum mistook me for a prowler one night, am I to blame?
STUB. Coorse not, coorse not, when you didn't stop to 'lucidate, but jumped de fence and scooted down de road hollering "Murder!"
TOM . A little more ear and less tongue, Stub.
STUB . Don't waste de fodder. Had ear enough dat night. Golly! jes woke de whole neighborhood.
TOM. Ah! the course of true love never did run smooth.
TOM . Will you be quiet?
STUB. Ob coorse. Don't waste de fodder.
NAT. Ah, Tom, Nature never cut you out for a lover.
KITTY. Indeed! Your property! I like that. And when, pray, did you come into possession?
TOM. That's for you to say, Kitty. I'm an expectant heir as yet. Don't forget me in your will, Kitty.
NAT. Don't write your will in his favor.
KITTY.
"When a woman wills she wills: depend on't; And when she won't she won't, and there's the end on't."
TOM . "If I could write my title clear."
NAT. Give me the title, Kitty.
TOM. I'd give you a title--Counter-jumper, Yardstick; that's about your measure. You talk about titles; why, all you are good for is to measure tape and ribbons, cut "nigger-head," shovel sugar, and peddle herrings for old Gleason. Bah! I smell soap now.
NAT . You just step outside, and you shall smell brimstone, and find your measure on the turf, Tom Larcom.
KITTY. There, there, stop that! I'll have no quarrelling. Supper's nearly ready, and the corn not finished.
TOM. We'll be ready for the supper, Kitty. If I could only find a red ear.
KITTY. And if you could?
TOM. I should make an impression on those red lips of yours that would astonish you.
KITTY. Indeed! It would astonish me more if you had the chance. But where's Harry Maynard?
TOM. Off gunning with Mr. Thornton. He said he'd be back in time for the husking: they must have lost their way.
KITTY. His last night at home, too.
STUB. Yas, indeed. Off in de mornin', afore de broke ob day. I's gwine to drive dem ober to de steam-jine station. Miss Jennie gwine to see him off; 'spect she'll jes cry her eyes out comin' home.
KITTY. Don't say a word against Mr. Thornton; he's just splendid.
CHORUS OF GIRLS. Oh, elegant!
TOM. There it is! Vanity and vexation! here's a man old enough to be your father. Comes up here in his fine clothes, with a big watch-chain across his chest, and a seal ring on his finger, and you girls are dead in love with him at first sight.
TOM. Well, I s'pose it's out of fashion not to like this Thornton, but there's something in the twist of his waxed-end mustache, and the roll of his eye, that makes me feel bad for Harry.
KITTY. You needn't fear for Harry. He won't eat him.
STUB. No, sir, he's not a connubial: he's a gemblum.
TOM. Ah! here's the last ear, and, by jingo! it's a red one.
CHORUS. Good for you, Tom! good for you!
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