The Plays of W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson

Austin. Ay, Mr. Menteith? and who told you the lady’s name?

Menteith. Mr. George, you was always a gentleman.

Austin. You mean I wasn’t always? Old boy, you are in the right. This shall be a good change for both you and me. We have lived too long like a brace of truants: now is the time to draw about the fire. How much is left of the old Hermitage?

Menteith. Hard upon thirty dozen, Mr. George, and not a bad cork in the bin.

Austin. And a mistress, Menteith, that’s worthy of that wine.

Menteith. Mr. George, sir, she’s worthy of you.

Austin. Gad, I believe it. (Shakes hands with him.)

Menteith (breaking down). Mr. George, you’ve been a damned good master to me, and I’ve been a damned good servant to you; we’ve been proud of each other from the first; but if you’ll excuse my plainness, Mr. George, I never liked you better than to-day.

Austin. Cheer up, old boy, the best is yet to come. Get out the tongs, and curl me like a bridegroom. (Sits before dressing-glass; Menteith produces curling irons and plies them. Austin sings) —

‘I’d crowns resign
To call her mine,
Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill!’

Drop

ACT III

Musical Induction: the ‘Minuet’ from ‘Don Giovanni’

The stage represents Miss Foster’s lodging as in Act I.

SCENE I

Dorothy, R., at tambour; Anthony, C., bestriding chair; Miss Foster, L.C

Anthony. Yes, ma’am, I like my regiment: we are all gentlemen, from old Fred downwards, and all of a good family. Indeed, so are all my friends, except one tailor sort of fellow, Bosbury. But I’m done with him. I assure you, Aunt Evelina, we are Corinthian to the last degree. I wouldn’t shock you ladies for the world —

Miss Foster. Don’t mind me, my dear; go on.

Anthony. Really, ma’am, you must pardon me: I trust I understand what topics are to be avoided among females – And before my sister, too! A girl of her age!

Dorothy. Why, you dear, silly fellow, I’m old enough to be your mother.

Anthony. My dear Dolly, you do not understand; you are not a man of the world. But, as I was going on to say, there is no more spicy regiment in the service.

Miss Foster. I am not surprised that it maintains its old reputation. You know, my dear (to Dorothy), it was George Austin’s regiment.

Dorothy. Was it, aunt?

Anthony. Beau Austin? Yes, it was; and a precious dust they make about him still – a parcel of old frumps! That’s why I went to see him. But he’s quite extinct: he couldn’t be Corinthian if he tried.

Miss Foster. I am afraid that even at your age George Austin held a very different position from the distinguished Anthony Musgrave.

Anthony. Come, ma’am, I take that unkindly. Of course I know what you’re at: of course the old pût cut no end of a dash with the Duchess.

Miss Foster. My dear child, I was thinking of no such thing; that was immoral.

Anthony. Then you mean that affair at Brighton: when he cut the Prince about Perdita Robinson.

Miss Foster. No, I had forgotten it.

Anthony. O, well, I know – that duel! But look here, Aunt Evelina, I don’t think you’d be much gratified after all if I were to be broke for killing my commanding officer about a quarrel at cards.

Dorothy. Nobody asks you, Anthony, to imitate Mr. Austin. I trust you will set yourself a better model. But you may choose a worse. With all his faults, and all his enemies, Mr. Austin is a pattern gentleman: You would not ask a man to be braver, and there are few so generous. I cannot bear to hear him called in fault by one so young. Better judges, dear, are better pleased.

Anthony. Hey-day! what’s this?

Miss Foster. Why, Dolly, this is April and May. You surprise me.

Dorothy. I am afraid, indeed, madam, that you have much to suffer from my caprice. (She goes out, L.)

SCENE II

Anthony, Miss Foster

Anthony. What is the meaning of all this, ma’am? I don’t like it.

Miss Foster. Nothing, child, that I know. You spoke of Mr. Austin, our dear friend, like a groom; and she, like any lady of taste, took arms in his defence.

Anthony. No, ma’am, that won’t do. I know the sex. You mark my words, the girl has some confounded nonsense in her head, and wants looking after.

Miss Foster. In my presence, Anthony, I shall ask you to speak of Dorothy with greater respect. With your permission, your sister and I will continue to direct our own affairs. When we require the interference of so young and confident a champion, you shall know. (Curtsies, kisses her hand, and goes out, L.)

SCENE III

Anthony

Anthony. Upon my word, I think Aunt Evelina one of the most uncivil old women in the world. Nine weeks ago I came of age; and they still treat me like a boy. I’m a recognised Corinthian, too: take my liquor with old Fred, and go round with the Brummagem Bantam and Jack Bosb – .. O damn Jack Bosbury. If his father was a tailor, he shall fight me for his ungentlemanly conduct. However, that’s all one. What I want is to make Aunt Evelina understand that I’m not the man to be put down by an old maid who’s been brought up in a work-basket, begad! I’ve had nothing but rebuffs all day. It’s very remarkable. There was that man Austin, to begin with. I’ll be hanged if I can stand him. I hear too much of him; and if I can only get a good excuse to put him to the door, I believe it would give Dorothy and all of us a kind of a position. After all, he’s not a man to visit in the house of ladies: not when I’m away, at least. Nothing in it of course; but is he a man whose visits I can sanction?

SCENE IV

Anthony, Barbara

Barbara. Please, Mr. Anthony, Miss Foster said I was to show your room.

Anthony. Ha! Baby? Now, you come here. You’re a girl of sense, I know.

Barbara. La, Mr. Anthony, I hope I’m nothing of the kind.

Anthony. Come, come! that’s not the tone I want: I’m serious. Does this man Austin come much about the house?