  In offering the following dramatic production to a discerning public, the author respectfully intimates, that, notwithstanding an accidental similarity in name between this play and one by Mr. William Shakspeare, in plot, language, and situations, the two dramas will be found to differ totally. "Love in the City" is of that order generally termed "the Domestic;" and, while the incidents are varied, simple, and common-place, it is to be hoped that the dÉnouement will be acknowledged singularly striking and effective. To restore the legitimate drama, whose neglect has been so long and uselessly deplored, has been the author's principal aim; and, in the construction of the play here presented to the world, he trusts that he has eminently succeeded. No German horrors have been employed; the use of thunder and lightning has been dispensed with; not even a dance of demons has been introduced; and, with the exception of reproducing Mr. Clipclose, senior, in the second act, after he had shuffled off this mortal coil, there is not an event in the whole drama, but those of every-day occurrence. Although "Love in the City" has been expressly written for the eminent performers whose names are attached to the dramatis personÆ, the author will extend a limited privilege of acting to country managers, he receiving a clear half of the gross receipts of their respective houses. Any offer short of this stipulation will remain unattended to. Music-sellers may address proposals for the melodies to Mr. Richard Bentley; and, should my attempt at piracy be detected,—the copyright of the drama being duly entered at Stationers' Hall,—persons thus offending are respectfully informed that they will be subjected to an action at law. Camomile-street, May 1, 1837. LOVE IN THE CITY;OR, ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. In Two Acts. As it is to be performed at the Theatre-Royal, Drury-Lane, with rapturous applause. The words not by Thomas Moore, nor the music by Henry R. Bishop. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Captain Connor,—a gentleman from Ireland, with black whiskers and four wives, six feet two high, a sergeant in the 2nd Life-Guards, in love with Mrs. Clipclose, cum multis aliis,—Mr. Charles Kemble (his reappearance on the stage for this occasion only). Mr. Robert Clipclose,—an eminent mercer, of amorous disposition, and in embarrassed circumstances,—Mr. Sheridan Knowles. Old Clipclose,—father to Robert, a retired tradesman, afflicted by gout and avarice, with a house at Highgate,—Mr. William Farren. His Ghost,—Mr. T. P. Cooke. Jeremiah Scout,—in the confidence of Mr. and Mrs. Clipclose, and porter to the establishment,—Mr. Harley. Samuel Snags,} clerks to Clipclose and Co. and men of fashion, Matthew Mags, and} their names omitted by mistake in the Court Calendar, Philip Poppleton,} —Mess. Liston, Vining, and Yates. Timothy O'Toole,—corporal, 2nd Life-Guards, troop No. 4—Mr. Tyrone Power. Benjamin Blowhard,—trumpeter, same troop,—Mr. J. Russell. Pieman and All-hot,—by a Post-Captain and an Assistant-Surgeon, H.P. R.N. Their first appearance on any stage. Policemen A. and S.—by two gentlemen from the country, of great provincial celebrity. Mrs. Clipclose,—lady-like and extravagant, in love with Captain Connor,—Mrs. Butler, who has kindly promised to come from North America to sustain the character, and is hourly expected, per the "Silas Tomkins, of New York." Miss Juliana Smashaway,—a young lady of great personal attraction and small fortune, in lodgings in Upper Stamford-street, and in love with Captain Connor,—Miss Ellen Tree. Annette, vulgÒ Netty,—a maid of all work, engaged to Samuel Snags, and in love with Captain Connor,—Madame Vestris. Captains Wife, No. 1,—Miss Helen Faucit. Do. No. 2,—Mrs. Yates. Do. No. 3,—Mrs. Nisbit. Do. No. 4,—Miss Vincent. Kitty,—lady of the bed-chamber to Miss Smashaway,—Miss Mordaunt. Men about town, women ditto, apprentices, guardsmen, police A. 27 and F. 63, attendants, &c. &c. &c. by eminent performers. Time, rather indefinite. Scene, always within sound of Bow-bell, and chiefly in Ludgate-hill or Upper Stamford-street. Act I.—Scene I. Morning rather misty; St. Paul's striking eleven, as the curtain rises to hurried music, and discovers a haberdasher's shop with plate-glass windows. Snags, Mags, and Poppleton with sundry assistants, their hair in papers; but evidently preparing for business. Enter Jeremiah Scout with a watering-pot; he sprinkles the floor, while the apprentices are arranging their neckcloths. Snags coughs, evincing a recent recovery from influenza. He comes forward, and sings. Air—Mr. Snags.—(Guy Mannering.) Oh! sleep, Mr. Clipclose, You were up all the night; You commenced at "The Finish," And closed with a fight. Oh! keep yourself quiet, and sleep while you may, Nor dream that the bailiffs are over the way. (When the song ends, Poppleton advances to the front counter, and waves his yard. Dead silence. All turn to him.) Pop.—Gemmen, you know of late that trade is dull, And the till empty, while the town is full: Bills have come round, and bankers won't renew; Our master's dish'd, and we are in a stew. Mags.—Alas! my friends, what Poppy says is true; All's black without, and all within is blue: Our fates are certain,—Whitecross, or the Fleet; Writs are sued out, and bums are in the street. 1st Apprentice (a stout lad, with light hair, and enamelled shirt-studs—sobbing). —Short as short credit, shorter than short whist, Short as a barmaid's anger when she's kiss'd; Shorter than all, ah! Clipclose, was thy span—Oh, such a master! such a nice young man! Snags (with considerable firmness and feeling). —Come, hang it! let's keep heart, tho' trade may fail; It's only lying six weeks in a jail! What with good company and sporting play, Kind friends, sound claret, and a lady gay, Speed the dull hours, and while the weeks away. Time's rapid flight men scarce have time to view, And, old scores clear'd, we open them anew. (He pauses, and mounts an elevated desk; his voice and attitude expressive of desperate determination.) Here, to the last, I'll take my wonted stand, Receive the flimsies from each fair one's hand. Courage my trumps! (to the apprentices;) unpaper all your hair;} Let our gay banner wanton in the air} To pull in flats, and make the natives stare!} (All discard their papillotes, while the junior apprentice seizes a large placard, and suspends it over the door. On a dark ground, and in gold capitals, appears the device. EMPORIUM OF ELEGANCE! Clipclose and Co. No connexion over the way. The youngest may buy. NO ADVANTAGE TAKEN HERE!!! Sundry persons collect about the door; and a yellow cab, No. 1357, stops.) Snags (aside) to the apprentices.—Covies, be brisk; our customers approach! Go, Pop, and hand yon lady from her coach. A simpering smile is still a tradesman's treasure; Give them enough of gammon, and short measure! Miss Juliana Smashaway enters. Mags bowing obsequiously. 1st App.—Shall your cab wait, ma'am? Miss S. Ask Jarvey if he's willing. Mags.—Gods! what a voice! its tones so soft, so thrilling! Pop. (aside.)—Now, blow me tight! her beauty's downright killing! ;Snags (from his desk).—Mags, could you give me coppers for a shilling? App.—What shall I show? silks? purple, yellow, green? Miss S.—I merely want a yard of bombasin. Snags (in evident admiration).—Lord! what a flash 'un! Attend that lady, Pop; And let her have the cheapest in the shop. (Poppleton introduces Miss Juliana Smashaway into the back show-room, and the scene closes.) Scene II.—Ludgate-hill. A front drawing-room; furniture French-polished, red silk window-curtains, and green sun-blinds; breakfast-table laid. Enter, from her boudoir, L. H. Mrs. Clipclose, fashionably dressed in pink gingham. She advances to the chimney-piece, and looks at an ormolu clock; her countenance showing surprise. Mrs. C.—What! not astir at almost twelve o'clock? (Looks in the glass). Upon my life, a most becoming frock! How late Bob sleeps! I think I'm getting fatter. We both were late. (Noise heard.) I wonder what's the matter. I, at Vauxhall; and Bob, upon the batter. Heigh-ho! these men are very seldom true. I hope the captain recollects at two We meet at Charing-cross to drive to Kew. (Opens the piano, and sits down.) Air—Mrs. Clipclose.—("I met her at the Fancy fair.") I met him in an omnibus: He spoke not; but his sparkling eyes Told the fond secret of his heart, And found an answer in my sighs. (Enter, from dressing-room, R. H. Young Clipclose, in a flowered morning-gown, and kid slippers. He yawns while arranging sundry rings upon his fingers.) Trio—Mr. and Mrs. Clipclose, and Annette. ("Jenny put the kettle on.") Mr. C. Dear me! my head is aching so, This soft white hand is shaking so; I sure must give up raking, O! (Politely turning to his lady.) Good morning! Mistress C. (Annette appears at the door, back of the stage, as if answering the bell.) Mrs. C. Netty, bring the muffins up, Put down the cream, and rince a cup; Your master's had an extra sup— (Looking archly at her husband.) Ah! naughty Mister C. Annette (aside, presenting a note to her mistress). The potboy brought this billet-doux. (Aloud.) Oh, Lord! I hear a creaking shoe, And here will be a sweet too-roo, With grumpy Mister C. Mr. and Mrs. C., and Netty, together. And here will be a sweet too-roo! Gruff voice outside. I say, where's Bobby C.? (Enter, in a passion, Mr. Clipclose, senior.) Mr. C. sen.—I say, where's Bob? Not down at twelve o'clock! I thought to find the scoundrel taking stock; Or, at the counter, serving folks quite civil. Mrs. C. (pertly.)—He's going, sir. (Bob vanishes.) Mr. C. sen. Ay! quickly, to the devil! (Turning angrily to Mrs. C.) And you, gay madam! Zounds! this gown is new! What you wore yesterday was sprigged with blue. Upon the road to ruin, wives drive hard, When they wear chintz at eight-and-six a yard. Mrs. C. (disdainfully.)—If you would know the price, ask Miss Brocard. Mr. C. sen.—Hear, haughty madam, while my mind I speak, If Bob don't mend—(a long pause)—I'll marry this day week! I'll have boys too— (A sudden fit of coughing interrupts him.) Mrs. C. (sarcastically).—I'm sure the spirit's willing. Mr. C. sen.—And I'll cut off your husband with a shilling! (Exit, in a desperate rage. Mrs. C. and Netty laugh immoderately.) Annette.—Why, bless us, madam, but the man's a bear! At eighty-one to threat us with an heir. Mrs. C.—Pish! 'tis mere dotage; his brains are in the moon. (Sits down to the piano.) What shall I play, Net? Annette. Play "The Bold Dragoon." (Music soft and expressive. The scene closes.) Scene III.—The back show-room. Miss Juliana Smashaway surrounded by shopmen and apprentices, all presenting various articles, and anxious individually to attract attention. Miss S.—Lord, what nice men! their words are sweet as honey; And, stranger still, they won't take ready money. I fork'd a five-pound flimsy out in vain— They're civil men, and I'll look in again. Clipclose, jun. (enters hastily—appears thunderstruck—starts—pulls off a ring, and, rushing forward, exclaims as he presents it,) And this from your devoted Robert C.! Miss S.—Why, this flogs all, and Banaher's Exit Miss Smashaway; Clipclose after her. She jumps into a yellow cab, and he into a green one. Both start at a killing pace for Blackfriars' Bridge; yellow cab upsets a pieman, and green demolishes an establishment of "all hot." Clerks, shopmen, and apprentices strike their foreheads with considerable violence, and return behind the counters despondingly. Distant music from a barrel-organ. Scene closes. Scene IV.—Mrs. Clipclose's Boudoir. Mrs. C. in sea-green satin, putting on a cottage bonnet with artificial flowers. Lavender-coloured gloves upon the toilet, and selon la rÈgle, a fresh pocket-handkerchief. Netty in attendance. (Jeremiah Scout enters the boudoir unannounced.) Mrs. C. (indignantly.)—How's this? Why, Scout, you're monstrous rude! Jeremiah (with strong exertion.)—Down, my full heart! I hope I don't intrude? The saddest news, alas, to tell I'm come! (A long and harrowing pause.) Your husband's tapp'd by Tappington, the bum!
End of Act 1. Curtain falls amid a thunder of applause, and an uproarious call for Mrs. Butler, Madame Vestris, and Mr. Harley. They come reluctantly forward. Audience rise by general consent. Cheers and clapping continue five minutes. Stage-bell rings. Performers retire with their hands upon their hearts. Waving of handkerchiefs from the boxes, bravos from the pit, and whistling from the shilling gallery. |
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