How to Settle Accounts with your Laundress: An Original Farce, in One Act

"Whittington Widgetts, Esquire." Ow wow! Esquire! the devil a ha'porth less. "Whittington Widgetts, Esquire, Hierokosma, Jarmyn Street." Hierokosma! That's French for a tailor's shop. By the Attorney-General 'twould give a man a headache in his elbow to write such a cramp word. (Smells the letter.) Why then it smells elegant intirely. (Goes to door, R., and enters while speaking.) Mr. Widgetts, here's a letter for you, sir.

(Returns immediately from the room, re-commences his song, and begins to brush the figure again. A church clock in the neighbourhood strikes eight.)

WID. Twill!

(Speaking from the door of chamber, R.)

TWILL. There, listen to that row. That master of mine will persist in calling me Twill, though he knows my name is Barney Toole, because Twill, he says, is genteeler.

WID. What o'clock is that, Twill?

TWILL. Eight o'clock, sir.

WID. Put up the shutters.

TWILL. What the devil can he mean? We never shut until nine o'clock.

Enter WIDGETTS from chamber, R., kissing a note which he holds.

WID. Well, don't you hear me? Put up the shutters and close the establishment, directly.

TWILL. Of coorse, sir. Never say it twice.

(Twill runs out by door, L., and is seen putting up the window shutters outside.)

WID. This night I devote to the tender union of love and lobsters. The adorable Ma'amselle Cheri Bounce, the ballet dancer, at last consents to partake a little quiet supper with me here this evening. I must read her charming note once more. (Reads.) "Ma'amselle Cheri Bounce presents compliments to Mr. Whittington Widgetts, will feel happy to sup with Mr. W. W. this evening. Ma'amselle C. B. fears that female notions don't correspond with supping with a single gent, but lobsters is stronger than prudence, therefore trusts to indulgence; at nine o'clock precise. P.S.--I'll come in my blue visite and my native innocence, and hopes you'll treat them with proper delicacy." Glorious! Angelic creature! (Kisses the letter and puts it in his waistcoat pocket.) Oh! Widgetts, you lucky rascal, to have the happiness of a private and confidential supper with that magnificent girl, whose image has never left my mind since the evening I danced with her at the Casino. (Calls.) Twill!

TWILL. (entering from door, L.) Sir?

WID. You must run directly to the tavern, over the way, and order them to send a roast fowl and lobster, in the shell, here, at nine o'clock.

TWILL. Roast fowl, sir?

WID. And lobster. He--hem! I expect a particular party to sup with me.

TWILL. Coorse you'll want cigars, sir?

WID. No. The party, Twill, is a lady and don't smoke.

TWILL. A lady! Tare my agers, sir. Does the lady bring the lady's maid with her?

WID. Don't be impertinent, Twill, but listen to me. The party I expect is Ma'amselle Cheri Bounce, a splendid creature, who dances on a limited income, with the strictest regard to propriety, at the Opera House, and gives lessons to private pupils in the pokar and the waltz ah do tongs.

TWILL. Whoo! She must be a switcher. (Going.) I'll run directly, sir.

WID. Stay! I must make myself attractive for the interesting occasion. Give me the coat that has just been finished for Sir Chippin Porrage, and the waistcoat that's to be sent home to-morrow morning for the Honourable Cecil Harrowgate's wedding. (Twill hands a dress coat and waistcoat from the table, L.) I'll give them an air of gentility by wearing them this evening. That will do. There, be off now.

TWILL. Ha, ha! By the powers o' war, when you get them on your back, sir, you'll be like Mulligan's dog, your own father wouldn't know you.

Widgetts carries the coat and waistcoat into his bed-room, R., Twill is going towards door, L., when MARY WHITE, the laundress, enters, carrying a basket of clothes under her arm.

MARY. Here, Twill, take my basket, good chap. Is master at home?

TWILL. (Takes basket.) Yes, he is at home. (Aside.) Take my basket, good chap. Well, there's no bearing the impudence of the lower orders. (Sets down basket, R., and calls at door, R.) Please, sir, here's the laundress come for your clothes. (Crosses to door, L. Aside.) Good chap!