Bright Ideas for Entertaining :: WHY WE NEVER MARRIED

WHY WE NEVER MARRIED

An Evening's Entertainment to be Given by Seven Maids and Seven Bachelors

(Copyright, 1899, by the Curtis Publishing Company and republished by courtesy of the Ladies' Home Journal)

Although this entertainment is here planned to include fourteen people, the number of those who take part in it may, of course, be reduced to as few or increased to as many as desired, either by omitting one or more of the couples already provided for, or by including more couples and composing additional verses for them.

The characters appear seated in a semicircle, a young man first, then a young woman, and so on alternately, beginning at the right as one faces the audience. Each one is dressed in a fashion appropriate to the character represented. Starting with the first young man at the right, each advances in turn to the front and recites.

Number one says:

"Of all the girls that ever I knew,

I never saw one that I thought would do.

I wanted a wife that was nice and neat,

That was up to date, and that had small feet;

I wanted a wife that was loving and kind,

And that hadn't too much original mind;

I wanted a wife that could cook and sew,

And that wasn't eternally on the go;

I wanted a wife that just loved to keep house,

And that wasn't too timid to milk the cows;

I wanted a wife that was strikingly beautiful,

Intelligent, rich, and exceedingly dutiful.

That isn't so much to demand in a wife,

But still she's not found, though I've looked all my life."

Number two next recites:

"The only reason why I've never wed

Is as clear as the day, and as easily said:

Two lovers I had who'd have made me a bride,

But the trouble was just that I couldn't decide;

Whenever John came I was sure it was he

That I cared for most; but with Charlie by me,

My hands clasped in his, and his eyes fixed on mine,

'Twas as easy as could be to say, 'I'll be thine.'

Now tell me what was a poor maiden to do,

Who couldn't, to save her, make choice 'tween the two?

I dillied and dallied, and couldn't decide,

Till John, he got married, and Charlie, he died;

And that is the reason why I've never wed;

For how could I help it, as every one said,

When John, he was married, and Charlie was dead."

Number three now speaks:

"I have never proposed to any girl.

Was I to be caught in the snare of a curl,

And dangle through life in a dizzy whirl?

"Humph! I know too much for that by half!

I may look young, but I'm not a calf;

You can't catch a bird like me with chaff.

"I know their tricks, I know their arts,

I know how they scheme to capture hearts;

I know they can play a dozen parts.

"How do I know so much, you ask?

To reply to that isn't much of a task;

For if you must know, O madams and misters,

I'm the only brother of fourteen sisters."

Number four advances and says:

"My lovers came from near and far,

And sued before my feet;

They told me I was like a star;

They said that I was sweet;

And each one swore if I'd accept

His heart and eke his hand,

That he would be the happiest man

Throughout the whole broad land.

But one proud youth remained aloof,

And stood untouched, unmoved;

Oh, bitter fate! he was the one,

The only one I loved!

I tried on him each winning charm,

I put forth every art,

But all in vain; he turned away,

And took with him my heart.

This is the reason I am left

Alone upon the tree,

Like withered fruit, though not a pear;

Oh, would that I might be!"

Number five recites these lines:

"The only reason why I've never married

Is because all my plans for proposing miscarried;

I wouldn't propose till all was propitious,

Till I felt pretty sure that the signs were auspicious.

More than once I've been moved to propound the fond query,

'Won't you tell me you love me, my beautiful dearie?'

When just at that moment came something or other,

A ring at the bell, or a call from her mother,

Or the sudden approach of her infantile brother,

My words to arrest, my intentions to smother;

And once, when a few leading questions I'd asked,

She laughed as if jokes in my questions were masked;

I couldn't conceive what had caused her commotion,

But 'twas so disconcerting I gave up the notion;

Although I felt certain as certain could be,

That whatever she laughed at, it was not at me."

Number six then says:

"From my earliest years

I've had an intuition

That I was intended

To carry out a mission.

Whatever it might be

I hadn't the least notion,

But I searched for it faithfully

From ocean to ocean.

For a while I kept thinking

That I was surely meant

To preach to the heathen,

But I never was sent.

Then the surging thoughts and feelings

That upon me seemed to press

Surely proved beyond all question

That I was a poetess;

But the editors were cruel,

They were stonily unkind;

And their inappreciation

Drove the notion from my mind.

Now I'm sure that I'm a speaker;

'Tis my latest great impression;

And I'd like to prove it to you,

If I might without digression;

But whatever is my mission,

I've been certain all my life,

That 'tis something higher, nobler,

Than to be a slaving wife."

Number seven speaks thus:

"I used to call on Mary Jane

When I was seventeen;

And Mary Jane was fond of me,

Though I was rather green.

One day I told her why I came,

And what was my intent;

And then she said that I must go

And get her pa's consent.

Her pa, he was a mason rude,

Well used to handling bricks,

And when I came to talk with him

My courage went to sticks.

'K-kind sir, may I have M-Mary Jane?'

I asked with gasp and stutter;

Then came an earthquake, then a blank—

I went home on a shutter.

I never married Mary Jane,

The maid whom I'd selected;

The reason was because her pa—

Well, so to speak—objected."

Number eight next advances:

"I fully intended a bride to be,

But Richard and I could never agree;

He fussed at me daily in fault-finding mood,

And I picked at him though I knew it was rude;

He thought that a woman ought always to do

Just what her husband wanted her to,

And I was as set and decided as he,

That that way of life would never suit me;

And so we kept wrangling all summer and fall,

And at last we agreed not to marry at all;

And that is the reason you now find me here,

Feeling cheap, I admit, and I once was so dear."

Number nine speaks as follows:

"Could I give up all the pleasures

That a single man may claim?

Could I see my bachelor treasures

Sniffed at by a scornful dame?

Could I have my choice Havanas

Bandied all about the place,

Strewn around like cheap bananas,

Looked upon as a disgrace?

Could I bear to find a hairpin

Sticking in my shaving-mug?

Or a pair of high-heeled slippers

Lying on my Persian rug?

Would I want my meditations

Broken up by cries of fright

At a mouse or daddy-long-legs,

Or some other fearful sight?

No, I couldn't, and I wouldn't,

And I didn't, as you see;

Of every life, the bachelor's life

Is just the life for me."

Number ten says:

"My lovers were plenty

As plenty could be;

But of the whole number

Not one suited me;

John was too fat,

Joe was too thin,

And George, who'd have done,

Was without any 'tin';

Dick was a sinner,

And James was a saint,

Who, whenever I shocked him,

Looked ready to faint;

Charles was quite handsome,

The likeliest yet,

But he always was smoking

A vile cigarette;

That I'm very particular

'Tis easy to see,

Which all should remember

Who come to court me."

Number eleven now advances:

"First it was Carrie who claimed my heart,

And I thought from her I never would part;

Then it was Rose, with her winsome eyes

Of an azure as deep as the tropic skies;

And next it was Alice, so mild and meek;

I loved her fondly for nearly a week;

Then came Elizabeth's fickle reign,

And after her Mary and Kate and Jane;

A dozen more for a time held sway,

Sometimes for a month, sometimes for a day;

And yet I'm not married; for, truth to tell,

I could make no choice, I loved all so well."

Number twelve speaks thus:

"I never would marry

The best of men;

Though they've tried to persuade me

Again and again;

I know too well

What's good for me

To wed any man,

Whoever he be;

If he tells you he loves you,

He means to deceive you;

If he says he'll be faithful,

He's planning to leave you;

You may think him as meek

As ever was Moses;

You may think him as sweet

As a garden of roses;

You may think him as good

As good can be;

But just remember

One word from me;

Whatever they seem

To be or have been,

You just can't tell

One thing about men.

Number thirteen and number fourteen advance together, and the former speaks first as follows:

"I've been in love with lots of girls,

A bachelor's life I hate;

I've all the time that I could want

To find and win a mate;

I've never come in contact with

A brick-objecting pa,

Or been deterred by brothers small

Or loudly calling ma;

I've never found it hard to choose

With whom I would be mated;

Oh, no, 'tis quite another cause—

I'm not appreciated;

I've popped the question o'er and o'er,

But if you will believe me,

There wasn't one of all of them

That I could get to have me.

And that is why I'm left alone,

Now love's young dream is gone,

To darn my hose and mend my clo'es

And sew my buttons on."

Then number fourteen says:

"My friends have all told you the reason why they

Keep on in a lonesome, old-maidenly way,

Without any husband to lighten their loads,

Without any helper to smooth the rough roads;

I, too, am unmarried, but not for the causes

That they have all stated in rhythmical clauses:

My lover didn't die,

And he never went away;

My father didn't stand

A moment in my way;

I've never quarreled once,

Nor been bothered to decide,

But I've got a first-class reason

Why I've never been a bride;

At any kind of mission

I wouldn't even glance;

The simple truth is this—

I've never had a chance;

Other folks, I s'pose, have had 'em,

But they've never come to me;

Though I don't see why they shouldn't,

For I'm willing as can be;

And all I've got to say is,

And I say it frank and free,

If you think I won't get married,

Just you question me and see."

At the close of number fourteen's recitation, all rise and stand in two rows, facing each other, the ladies in one row and the gentlemen in the other. The gentlemen then recite in concert as follows:

"Since we all are yet unmated,

And are getting on in years,

Why not now decide the matter

By dividing up in pairs?

If I ask you to accept me,

And my lonely life to bless,

Will you? Will you? Will you?"

Ladies in chorus:

"Yes!"

Each lady takes the arm of the gentleman facing her, and all walk off to the music of the wedding march.

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