



Produced by Paul Haxo from a copy generously made available
by the University of California, Davis.





A
DAY WELL SPENT:
_A Farce_,
IN ONE ACT.

BY
JOHN OXENFORD,

MEMBER OF THE "DRAMATIC AUTHOR'S SOCIETY;"

AUTHOR OF
"MY FELLOW CLERK," "I AND MY DOUBLE," "THE DICE OF DEATH,"
"TWICE KILLED," ETC.

FIRST PERFORMED AT THE
THEATRE ROYAL, ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE,
_APRIL_ 4_th_, 1835.

LONDON:
JOHN MILLER, HENRIETTA STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.

1836.




LONDON:
T. C. SAVILL, PRINTER, ST. MARTIN'S LANE,
CHARING CROSS.




TO

B. WRENCH, ESQ.

MY DEAR SIR,

It is with the greatest pleasure, I dedicate to you a Farce, the
success of which is so much to be attributed to your exertions. Accept
my most hearty thanks for your inimitable performance of the principal
character in this piece, as well as for the kind attention you have
paid to my previous productions, and the pains you have taken to
render them acceptable to the public.

I remain, dear Sir,

Yours very truly,

JOHN OXENFORD.

16, John Street, Bedford Row.




DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Mr. Cotton (_an eminent hosier, and old gentleman_)  MR. BENNETT.

Bolt (_his foreman, quite a gentleman_)              MR. WRENCH.

Mizzle (_his apprentice, wishing to be a gentleman_) MR. OXBERRY.

Mr. Cutaway (_an adventurous gentleman_)             MR. HEMMING.

Sam Newgate (_no gentleman_)                         MR. ROMER.

Peter Prig (_an ex-foreman, likewise no gentleman_)  MR. SANDERS.

Coachman                                             MR. IRELAND.

Waiter                                               MR. LEWIS.


Miss Harriet Cotton (_an adventurous lady_)          MISS SHAW.

Mrs. Stitchley (_an old lady_)                       MRS. EMDEN.

Miss Brown (_her bosom friend--a middle-aged lady_)  MRS. F. MATTHEWS.

Mrs. Chargely (_a beneficent lady_)                  MISS ROBINSON.

Bridget (_a lady's lady_)                            MISS JACKSON.




A DAY WELL SPENT.

SCENE I.

_A Room in COTTON'S house;--an open door in C. flat._

_Enter COTTON, with a letter._

COT. Provoking! to leave my shop all day for the sake of calling on
this old Wealthington!--that I should be required to call on him!--not
but he is a rich relation, and I have great expectations from him; and
my foreman, Bolt, and apprentice Mizzle, are quite fit persons with
whom to entrust my shop. Egad, to make all the naughty apprentices
look on those two young men would be as good a lesson as going to see
George Barnwell on a boxing night!

_Enter CUTAWAY, C. D._

CUT. Hollo! no one in the shop! ha, ha!--(_Aside._) Hum, she's not
here.--Have you anything to sell, old gentleman?

COT. Of course I have; what do you think I keep a shop for?

CUT. Ha, ha! right! to be sure--what the devil else _should_ you keep a
shop for?

COT. (_Aside._) Puppy!

CUT. But, old gentleman! a young lady used to serve in that shop--she
is not ill, I hope?

COT. No, sir; on the contrary, my daughter is quite well.--Can I do
anything for you in the way of business?

CUT. (_Aside._) Oh! this must be the old father she talks about.--Ha!
you are the commander-in-chief of this concern, hey?

COT. Probably I am, Mr. Cutaway.

CUT. Cutaway! you know me, then? What a thing it is to be famous! Know
me, and yet you were never introduced to me, to my knowledge.

COT. Oh dear no; I used to see you through the glass door of my
parlour, and I intercepted certain letters to my daughter. I saw your
name, and I inquired into your connexion,--and saw no reason why I
should not--cut the connexion.

CUT. Very cutting, indeed. He's a sharp blade. Ha, ha! droll! funny!
ha, ha!

COT. Happy to find I can please you, sir; I thus return good for evil,
since you by no means please me.

CUT. Is there any way to please you?

COT. Oh, certainly; the way to please me lies through yonder door: you
can't think how prettily that door is painted on the outside. As for
my daughter, sir,--I keep her present abode a secret.

_Enter BOY, L._

BOY. Please, sir, your sister sent me to say that she, with your
daughter, has been obliged to move to No. 19, Moonlight Street, owing
to circumstances of the most peculiar nature.

CUT. Ha, ha, ha! a most profound secret! Good by, commander-in-chief!
next time you have a secret, mind you don't tell it by proxy.

(_Exit, C. D._)

COT. Stupid jackanapes! you must open your damned mouth so wide as to
let the cat jump out! (_Exit BOY, L._)--A connexion of which I do not
in the least approve;--but--oh, those fellows are at breakfast--Bolt!
Mizzle!

_Enter BOLT and MIZZLE, R._

BOLT. Yes, sir.

COT. Listen!--pressing business obliges me to be absent till late
to-night; I leave the shop to your care.

BOLT. Thank'e, sir.

MIZ. For your confidence, sir.

COT. Which I know is not misplaced. (_BOLT and MIZZLE bow._)--On no
account leave the premises.

BOLT. Now, my dear sir, was not that request superfluous?

MIZ. Of course, sir, without leave, we should never leave the shop.

COT. You will excuse my mentioning it, however. All foremen and
apprentices are--alas! not like you. There are several very wicked
foremen and apprentices in the world.

BOLT. Ah, I have heard so--I have read so--but never met any.

MIZ. No; Bolt and I are very particular with whom we associate: evil
communications, you know, sir----

COT. Right! Very correct, indeed. Robert Mizzle, if you always
associate with such as Charles Bolt, you will doubtless at length
reach an elevated post.

MIZ. (_Aside._) Elevated post! I wonder if he means the gallows?

BOLT. You flatter me, sir--you flatter me. I discharge my duty, sir,
nothing else;--to be sure, taking care of the morals of this young
man----

COT. Is a heavy charge;--I am aware of it. But I must go. Farewell,
Bolt! Good by, Mizzle! Excellent steady creatures! Oh, were all like
them, the tragedy of George Barnwell would never have been written.

(_Exit, L. H._)

BOLT. Ha, ha, ha! why don't you laugh, Mizzle?

MIZ. Because I don't see any joke.

BOLT. Then look at me--I'm a perpetual joke!--I'm all point, like a
porcupine--all fire, like a poet's heart, and light as his breeches
pocket. Old Cotton has gone out all day--ha, ha! don't you take? don't
you twig? A'n't you fly? A'n't you awake?

MIZ. Yes, I'm awake, but I don't see.

BOLT. We are to mind the shop, are we? I say never mind it--let's go
out.

MIZ. Nonsense! you know master and we are like a man and woman in a
weather-house--when one goes out the other stays at home.

BOLT. And so, when the old man's back is turned, we are to shew our
heads are turned, by stopping in the shop all day--selling check'd
neck-handkerchiefs and baby's red stockings? Not we!--we'll go out and
have some fun, Bobby.

MIZ. No, no! it wont do; we must take care of the shop.

BOLT. Now look ye,--how does master take care of his money?

MIZ. By locking it up.

BOLT. Then that's the way we'll take care of the shop--I'll lock the
door, and you shall shut the shutters.

MIZ. Oh, come, come! I sha'n't go, nor you sha'n't, either. It wont
do, Charley; better be boxed here, than get in the wrong box.

BOLT. Well, I've made up my mind; the next job is to make up my body:
I must dress.

MIZ. Well, you may enjoy your own holiday. Pleasant day, and fine
weather to you, and a prosperous return;--I sha'n't go.

BOLT. You have no grandeur of soul--you don't love fun.

MIZ. Come, don't say that; damn it, I live upon fun--he, he!--you know I
do. Give us your hand, Charley. I'll go! Oh dear, a day's pleasure!

BOLT. You'll go, will you?

MIZ. Give us your hand.

BOLT. (_Takes his hand._) Here's off for fun, then!

(_Exeunt, R._)



SCENE II.

_Street--A porch projecting from flat; on the door is a plate
inscribed, "Mrs. Stitchley, dress-maker."_

_Enter CUTAWAY, followed by HARRIET, L.H. 1 E._

CUT. This way, this way, charming Harriet; your aunt has not missed
you yet; but she soon will; she is now so taken up with her ribbons
and beautiful purchases, that she is thinking but little of her
beautiful niece.

HAR. But this step--

CUT. Stands before your prison door--your only step is flight.

HAR. A flight of steps, each one more imprudent than the last. And
what awaits me on my descent?

CUT. Love, who will be your guide?

HAR. A pretty guide--he is blind himself.

CUT. True, but there is no resisting him. Love is a _torrent_--and his
blindness is a _cataract_. Come, come! the banns have been put up for
the last month, at Croydon Church--the ring is in my waistcoat
pocket--I've appointed a father to give you away.

HAR. Father? I haven't seen him.

CUT. Probably not, for though _a father_, he is not yet _apparent_.
All is right;--away! fly! when they say love is blind, they only mean
he closes his eyes to transgressions like ours.

(_Exeunt, R.H._)

_Enter BOLT and MIZZLE, smartly dressed, L.H._

BOLT. Well, here we are--out!

MIZ. Yes, out in our reckoning, may be.

BOLT. And don't I look well? A'n't I the thing? Nothing like the shop,
eh? Nothing against me?--nothing _counter?_

MIZ. No, we have sunk the shop, with a vengeance! Hatchment, the
undertaker, will be calling to know if master's dead.

BOLT. Well, but where shall we go?

MIZ. I'm afraid we've gone too far already.

BOLT. Zounds! man, don't keep watering my spirits in that way; and
don't pull down the corners of your mouth, and make it look like a
horseshoe on its legs. Laugh at our setting out, at least.

MIZ. Ha! ha! ha! I will, for I'm thinking there will be devilish
little chance of laughing when we return. Eh--what's that? (_Looking
off, R.H._)

BOLT. What are you staring at now?

MIZ. Don't you see something like an old man?

BOLT. Lord bless you, Bobby! it's the young women I always look at,
not the old men.

MIZ. That old man may look at you, notwithstanding. Oh! he draws
nearer.--Oh, the devil! it's the old gentleman--master, I mean.

BOLT. Eh, that's the hat;--his castor's an unlucky star;--those are his
unmentionables. We'll turn down the next street.

MIZ. But this damned street has no turning for the next quarter of a
mile! Confound it! you must be so fond of enjoying yourself.

BOLT. We'll run.

MIZ. And attract his attention: a tallish man and a short one.

BOLT. (_Knocking at door, F.L._) Then we'll call on Mrs. Stitchley.
Yes, that's the name on the plate.

MIZ. We don't know her; who the deuce knows Mrs. Stitchley?

BOLT. No matter; he mustn't pass us. Egad, he's just here! (_Knocks
again; door opens; they run in;--just as door is closing, COTTON runs
across from R. to L._)



SCENE III.

_Room at MRS. STITCHLEY'S._

_Enter SERVANT, L. H., followed by BOLT and MIZZLE._

SERV. This way, gentlemen; my mistress will see you in a minute.

(_Exit, R.H._)

BOLT. Well, here is a new feature.

MIZ. Yes, like a broken nose--a very irregular feature. What are we to
say?

BOLT. Our wits will inspire us.

MIZ. Wits! I've no wits, nor you either, or you wouldn't have advised
this blessed expedition.

_Enter MRS. STITCHLEY and SERVANT, R.H. SERVANT exits, L._

MRS. S. Good morning, gentlemen.

BOLT _and_ MIZZLE. Good morning!--Good morning!

MRS. S. May I ask the cause of this visit?

MIZ. (_Aside._) Ah! that's the devil of it.

BOLT. Cause--ah--madam, the cause is the reason, ma'am--Ahem! and the
reason is the cause.--(_Aside._) She must have a customer named Smith.
You doubtless know--Miss Smith?

MRS. S. No, sir! I have not that honour.

MIZ. (_Aside._) Of course not; everything goes wrong to-day.

BOLT. (_Aside._) Smith wont do--I'll try Brown. Miss Brown, madam, you
know?

MRS. S. Oh dear, yes! Miss Brown is one of my best customers.

BOLT. Ha! ha! Bobby, the lady and I understand each other now, don't
we? (_Nudges him._)

MRS. S. (_Aside._) What odd persons!--Yes, sir; but Miss Brown?

BOLT. True, true! about Miss Brown. There is a little account--

MRS. S. Oh! between me and Miss Brown?--(_Aside._) He is a gentlemanly
young fellow, after all.

BOLT. I, madam, will settle that account.

MIZ. (_Aside._) He'll settle himself if he does; he must be flush
to-day.

MRS. S. I'll send my servant for a stamp directly, sir.

BOLT. Don't hurry yourself, ma'am; I'll settle it to-morrow. That's
what I called for,--to tell you I'd settle it to-morrow.

MRS. S. Oh--h--h!--(_Aside._) There's a great vulgarity about him.

BOLT. I've nothing more to say. Good morning,
ma'am--nothing.--(_Aside._) Besides, the old man must be a mile off by
this time.

MIZ. Good by, ma'am.--(_Aside._) I say, Bolt, I vote we go back to the
shop; this may be a prelude to something further.

MRS. S. But one thing more. Miss Brown is an intimate friend of mine,
as well as a customer--now I don't think I ever saw you before!

BOLT. Very likely not, ma'am.

MIZ. It is exceedingly probable.

BOLT. The fact is--ahem!--the facts are these: there is no such person
as Miss Brown; Miss Brown has ceased to be Miss Brown--and I'm a happy
man.

MRS. S. What! do you mean that Miss Brown is married, and that you
are--

BOLT. Precisely; I see she has not disclosed the tender secret.

MIZ. (_Aside._) Ha, ha! it is funny, after all.

BOLT. Miss Brown, you see, is now Mrs. Steele. Yes--my name is Steele,
and this gentleman's name is Addison.

MIZ. Yes, ma'am, my name is Maddison--Ha, ha, ha!

_Enter SERVANT, L. H._

SERV. Miss Brown, ma'am.

(_Exit, L._)

BOLT. The devil! oh! he, he! the tender creature! Confusion!
Petrifaction!

MIZ. (_Whispering._) I say, Charley--how d'ye like that? Bother your
long-winded stories!--Oh!

_Enter MISS BROWN, L. H._

BOLT. (_Aside._) Not remarkably handsome, either.

MRS. S. How d'ye do, Miss Brown?--I beg pardon, Mrs. Steele, I mean.

MISS B. Mrs. Steele! what d'ye mean?

MIZ. (_Aside._) Ah, she wont swallow it--she's not soft steel.

BOLT. Well, anything to get off. Good by, ladies,--good by.

MRS. S. What an ungallant husband!

MISS B. Husband?

MRS. S. Yes, yes, Mrs. Steele; that gentleman, Mr. Steele, has
confessed all. You sly creature.

BOLT. Yes, yes!--good by! You may settle this discussion among
yours