New dialogues and plays for young people, ages fifteen to twenty-five, adapted from the popular works of well-known authors

Front matter

Class

Ronfc \5

Copyright N°_

Preface

A collection of Dialogues and Plays suited to the higher grades of school work should not only embody suggestions and directions for the external features of the play, but there should be shown throughout the book a' high regard for literary and dramatic merit.

This collection has been planned so that the student may, by reading the introduction and the play, enter into its full spirit. When this is done the enthusiasm of the student and participant in the presentation supplements the work of the manager and a spirited and real rendering of the play is effected.

These plays are such that the student may by their study gain a lively taste for dramatic art, and the reading of them will enable the student to select the character to which he is best adapted, taking into consideration physical, intellectual, and emotional qualities.

The study of the play may suggest changes from the plans, costumes, furniture, and other stage fixtures, and it will be well to bear in mind that the suggestions herein contained are only suggestions.

in

Some new Speakers

The Best American Orations of To-day (Blackstone) $1.25

Selected Readings from the Most Popular Novels - 1 .00

Pieces That Have Taken Prizes in Speaking Contests 1.25 New Pieces That Will Take Prizes in Speaking Contests 1.25

Pieces for Every Occasion (Le Row) - - - 1 .25

How to Attract and Hold an Audience (Esenwein) 1. 00

How to Use the Voice in Reading and Speaking (Ott) 1.25

How to Gesture, New Illustrated Edition (Ott) - 1. 00

A Ten Weeks' Course in Elocution (Coombs) - 1.25

Fenno's New Science and Art of Elocution - - 1.25

Three-Minute Declamations for College Men - 1. 00

Three-Minute Readings for College Girls - - 1.00

Handy Pieces to Speak (on cards) - - - - .50

Acme Declamation Book ----- .50

Ross' Southern Speaker - - - - - 1. 00

New Dialogues and Plays (Primary, Inter. , Adv.) 1.50

Commencement Parts (Orations, Essays, etc.) - 1.50

Pros and Cons (Questions of To-day Fully Discussed) 1.50

250 New Questions for Debate - - - - .15

How to Organize and Conduct a Meeting - - .75

Howe's Hand Book of Parliamentary Usage - - .50

HINDS, NOBLE & ELDREDGE 3 J -3 3-35 West J 5th Street, New York City

Table Of Contents

HUMOROUS.

The French Duel Mark Twai?i I

Mrs. Hardcastle's Journey - - Oliver Goldsmith - - - 12

Scene I

Gambetta is stamping about his reception room as Mark Twain enters. He throws his arms round Mark Twain's neck, kisses him on both cheeks, hugs him four or five times and seats him in his ar??i-chair.

Twain. — I suppose you wish me to act as your second.

Gambetta. — Of course.

Twain. — You have drawn up your will?

Gambetta. — Oh, no, no, that will not be necessary.

Twain. — I shall insist upon it. I never heard of a man in his right mind going out to fight a duel without first making his will.

Gambetta. — I never heard of a sane man doing anything of the kind; but if you insist I will make it. — {He walks in agitation back and forth a mo me ?it thinking deeply.) — My friend, how do these words strike you for a dying exclamation — " I die for my God, for my country, for freedom of speech, for progress, and the universal brotherhood of man ! "

Twain {with some hesitation, shaking his head) . — That would require too lingering a death. It would be a good speech for a consumptive — It is scarcely suited to exigencies of the field of honor.

Gambetta (he has been mumbling over words to hi?nself and at last bursts out). — Well, how's this? "I die that France may live ! "

Twain (as if a little afraid of offending). — That is better, but it does not seem to have much connection with the case.

Gambetta. — Oh, relevancy is of no consequence in last words; what you want is thrill. {He pulls out his mem orandum book and writes?) "I — die — that — France — may —live ! "

Twain {after a moment's pause). — The next thing in order is the choice of weapons.

Gambetta (nervously). — My friend, I am not well. I will leave that and the other details of the meeting to you. {He goes out.)

Twain {looking after him with a calm smile) . — Just as I expected — steeped in a profound French calm ! — Well, the weapons ! (Rises, goes to the desk and writes. He reads a few words aloud.) Sir: M. Gambetta — accepts — M.

Fourtou's — challenge (He folds up the note, puts it in

an envelope, and seals it. He rises, finds his hat and gloves and goes out.)

Scene II

The Reception Room of a Hotel. M. Pompadour is looking in a mirror adjusting his cravat when Mark Twain enters with a letter.

Twain. — Are you M. Fourtou's second?

Pompadour. — I have that honor.

Twain. — Then this is for you. (He hands him the note.)

Pompadour (he receives the note with a profound bow, turns to the furthest corner of the platform, opens note and reads aloud). — " Sir : — M. Gambetta accepts M. Fourtou's challenge, and authorizes me to propose Plessis-Piquet as the place of meeting ; to-morrow morning at daybeak as the time \ and axes as the weapons. I am, sir, with great respect, Mark Twain." {He shudders at the word "axes." He holds note folded in his hand, turns back to Twain and says solemnly.} Have you considered, sir, what would be the inevitable result of such a meeting as this?

Twain. — Well, for instance, what would it be ?

Pompadour. — Bloodshed !

Twain. — That's about the size of it. Now, if it is a fair question, what was your side proposing to shed?

Pompadour {a shocked look comes over his face) . — Well, a — a — I will explain myself. — I spoke jestingly. A — a — I — and my principal would enjoy axes, — and — indeed, prefer them, — but such weapons are barred by the French code, and

Twain. — And so I must change my proposal. {He walks the floor a moment, then stops shorty I propose Gatling guns at fifteen paces.

Pompadour {shaking his head). — The code is again in the way.

Twain. — Rifles! {Pompadour shakes his head.) Doublebarreled shot guns ! {Another shake of the head.) Colt's navy revolvers ! {Another shake. Twain reflects a moment.) I suggest brick-bats at three-quarters of a mile.

Pompadour. — Ah, monsieur, I will submit this last proposition to my principal. {He retires?)

Twain {looking round very much astonished) . — What ? : — That beats me ! He probably never heard a joke. Pompadour re-enters.

Pompadour. — Sir, my principal is charmed with the idea of brick-bats at three-quarters of a mile, but must decline on account of the danger to disinterested parties passing between.

Twain. — Well, I am at the end of my string, now. Perhaps you would be good enough to suggest a weapon. Perhaps you have even had one in your mind all the time.

Pompadour. — Oh, without doubt, monsieur ! {He searches his pockets and mutters to himself,) Now what could I have done with them ? {He brings at last from his vest pocket two small toy pistols. He ha7ids them to Twain.)

Twain {He goes across the roo)7i uncertain what he holds.) — Oh ! Pistols ! {He hangs one on his watch-chain and returns the other. Pompadour now unrolls a postage stamp containing cartridges and gives o?ie cartridge to Twain.) Does this mean that our men are to be allowed but one shot apiece?

Pompadour. — Ah, monsieur, the French code allows no more.

Twain {in despair at the French code). — I beg you, go on. Suggest a distance — My mind is growing weak under this strain.

Pompadour. — Sixty-five yards.

Twain {in great anger). — Sixty-five yards, with these instruments? Squirt-guns would be deadlier at fifty. Consider, my friend, you and I are banded together to destroy life, not make it eternal.

Pompadour. — Ah, monsieur, make it fifty yards but sixty-five is better.

Twain. — There is no use in fighting at that distance. Put it thirty-five and I'll let you off.

Pompadour {sighing and throwing up his hands inp?vtestatiofi). — I wash my hands of this slaughter ; on your head be it. {He goes out and then Twain goes out on the other side.)

Scene III

As in Sce?ie I. the Reception Room of M. Gambetta. Gambetta is i?i greac agitation and has just torn a handful of hair out and laid it on the table as Twain enters on the opposite side,

Gambetta {springing toward Twain). — You have made the fatal arrangements, — I see it in your eye!

Twain. — I have.

Gambetta {He leans on the table for support He bi'eathes heavily for a moment, then hoarsely whispers.) — The weapon, the weapon ! Quick ! what is the weapon?

Twain. — This ! {He displays with some contempt the tiny pistol and Gambetta faints away. Twain tries in vain to raise him.)

Gambetta (mournfully, after he has come to). — The unnatural calm to which I have subjected myself has told upon my nerves. But away with weakness ! {He rises to his feet.) I will confront my fate like a man and a Frenchman. {He assumes an attitude of statuesque sublimity?) Behold I am calm, I am ready ; reveal to me the distance.

Twain. — Thirty-five yards.

Gambetta {he falls to the floor again, Twain rolls him over and pours a glass of water down his back, at last he revives, sits up and says). — Thirty-five yards — without a rest? But why ask? Since murder was that man's intention, why should he palter with small details? But mark one thing : in my fall the world shall see how the chivalry of France meets death. (He rises to his feet and after a pause speaks?) Was nothing said about that man's family standing up with him, as an offset to my bulk? But no matter : I would not stoop to make such a suggestion ; if he is not noble enough to suggest it himself, he is welcome to this advantage, which no honorable man would take. (He sinks into a sort of stupor of reflection, from which he rouses himself.) The hour, — what is the hour of the collision?

Twain. — Dawn, to-morrow.

Gambetta (astonished). — Insanity ! I never heard of such a thing. Nobody is abroad at such an hour.

Twain. — That is the reason I named it. Do you mean to say you want an audience ?

Gambetta {impatiently). — It is no time to bandy words. I am astonished that Monsieur Fourtou should ever have agreed to so strange an innovation. Go at once and require a later hour. (He waves his hand and goes out.)

Twain (he snatches his hat and rushes out of the opposite door only to encounter M. Fourtou' s second. He backs courteously into the room and ushers in Af. Pompadour, how is followed by another man, M. Noir). — I beg your pardon sir, I was looking for you.

Pompadour. — I have the honor to say that my principal strenuously objects to the hour chosen, and begs you will consent to change it to half past nine.

Twain (with a smile of great satisfaction) . — Any courtesy, sir, which it is in our power to extend is at the service of your excellent principal. We agree to the proposed change of time.

Pompadour. — I beg you to accept the thanks of my client. — (He turns to the man behind him) — You hear, M. Noir, the hour is altered to half past nine. (M. Noir bows and departs.) — (To Twain) If agreeable to you, your chief surgeons and ours shall proceed to the field in the same carriage, as is customary.

Twain. — It is entirely agreeable to me, and I am obliged to you for mentioning the surgeons, for I am afraid I should not have thought of them. How many shall I want? I suppose two or three will be enough ?

Pompadour. — Two is the customary number for each party. I refer to "chief" surgeons; but considering the exalted positions occupied by our clients, it will be well and decorous that each of us appoint several consulting surgeons, from among the highest in the profession. These will come in their own private carriages. Have you engaged a hearse?

Twain (amazed). — Bless my stupidity, I never thought of it ! I will attend to it right away. I must seem very ignorant to you ; but you must try to overlook that because I have never had any experience of such a swell duel as this before. I have had a good deal to do with duels on the Pacific coast, but I see now they were crude affairs. A hearse, — sho ! we used to leave the elected lying around loose, and let anybody cord them up and cart them off that wanted to. Have you anything further to suggest?

Pompadour. — Nothing, except that the head undertakers shall ride together, as is usual. The subordinates and mutes will go on foot, as is also usual. I will see you at eight o'clock in the morning and we will then arrange the order of the procession. I have the honor to bid you a good day. {He goes out with an elaborate flourish of his hand. Twain knocks on the inner door and soon Gambetta issues from it.)

Gambetta. — Ah, back again ! at what hour is the engagement to begin?

Twain. — Half past nine.

Gambetta. — Very good indeed. Have you sent the fact to the newspapers ?

Twain {in horror). — Sir ! If after our long and intimate friendship you can for a moment deem me capable of so base a treachery

Gambetta. — Tut, tut ! What words are these my dear friend? Havel wounded you? Ah, forgive me; I am overloading you with labor. Therefore go on with the other details, and drop this one from your list. The bloodyminded Fourtou will be sure to attend to it. Or I myself — yes, to make certain, I will drop a note to my journalistic friend, Monsieur Noir

Twain ( in great relief} . — Oh, come to think, you may save yourself the trouble \ that other second has informed Monsieur Noir.

Gambetta. — H'm ! I might have known it. It is just like that Fourtou, who always wants to make a display.

Twain. — Now if you wish me to take charge of your will

Gambetta. — Oh, yes ; yes, that will -a-a-a-(/z<? i-etires to the inner room).

Scene IV

The Duel — a Field — Thick Fog. The duellists sit very near the fro?it of the platform, but as far apart as possible, with their backs towards the cenfre of the platform. Fourtou stares straight in front of him ; Gambetta studies diligently his memorandum book and mutters ?W70 and then " I die that France may live. ,, Across the back of the platform file very solemnly two poetorators with their funeral orations projecting from their coat pockets, surgeons with frightful cases of instruments y camp-followers > police and citizens. The tzvo seconds consult a little to one side. Pompadour. — Let us place a mark here {lie is standing on the extreme side of the platj c orm) and then pace off the distance in that direction (lie points to the opposite side).

Twain. — That suits me to a dot. {They cross the platform in step and apparently continue on beyond. They come back and approach their principals.)

IO THE FRENCH DUEL.

Twain. — Monsieur Gambetta, are you ready?

Gambetta (expanding to enormous width) . — Ready ! let the batteries be charged. (The two seconds load the pistols in plain sight of all concerned and then station Gambetta on the mark set for him, but march Fourtou off the platform opposite Gambetta, Twain returns to his principal, A police officer now steps up to Twain and whispers in his ear,)

Twain (holding up his hand to stop proceedings) , — A delay is begged while these poor people (a number have gathered in the centre of the back of the platform) be put in a place of safety. Let them take position behind the duellists. — (He turns to his pri?icipal who has turned about and seems disheartened.) Indeed, sir, things are not as bad as they seem. Considering the character of the weapons, the limited number of shots allowed, the generous distance and the added fact that one of the combatants is one-eyed and the other cross-eyed and near-sighted, it seems to me that this conflict- need not necessarily be fatal. There are chances that both of you survive. Therefore cheer up ; do not be downhearted.

Gambetta. — I am myself again ; give me the weapon. (He receives the tiny thing in his great palm and shudders,) Alas, it is not death I dread but mutilation.

Twain. — Sir, you have every reason to expect the most honorable treatment from all concerned. You have every hope of success. Be heartened and stand firm.

Gambetta ( encouraged ) , — Let the tragedy begin. Stand at my back ; do not desert me in this solemn hour, my friend.

Twain. — I promise. (He assists him to point the pistol.) Now listen to the whoop of the other second. (He props himself against Gambetta } s back and shouts) Whoop-ee !

THE FRENCH DUEL. II

(This is answered by a faint whoop in the distance.) — One, — two, — three, — fire ! {The two tiny pistols go off with a spit ! spit ! and Twain is crushed down to the floor beneath the enormous weight of Gambetta.)

Gambetta {with haste and confusion). — i die for

perdition take it, what is it I die for ? oh, yes, — France !

I die that France may live! (The surgeons swarm round Gambetta with probes and ?nicroscopes but find no wound. He rises, rushes into the arms of his adversary. Everybody embraces his neighbor except Twain y who raises himself disconsolately on one hand and looks round with agony in his face. The surgeons soon come to him and knead him over, withdraw to one side for consultation, make some ?notions and some ?nen pick him up. A procession is formed with Twain, thus carried, at the head. For an instant they halt while Gambetta says distinctly, pointing to T'wain.)

Gambetta. — I am proud to know the only man who has been hurt in a French duel in forty years. {The procession then goes out.)

MRS. HARDCASTLE'S JOURNEY.

Adapted from " She Stoops to Conquer," by Oliver Goldsmith.

CHARACTERS.

Hastings, a well dressed, polite young man from the city.

Tony, a big, awkwai-d youth from the count ?y 9 rough and coarsely dressed.

Mr. Hardcastle, a hearty out-spoken far??ier 9 vigorous in mind and body.

Mrs. Hardcastle, a nervous excitable woman in gaudy attire, spattered ivith mud and water.

Situation. — Mrs. Hardcastle objects to the attentions which Hastings pays her niece Constance Neville. In order to separate them she orders Tony, although the night is dark, to drive Constance and herself to his Aunt Pedigree's, twenty miles away. Tony in the interest of Hastings, who has planned to elope with Constance, plays a trick on the ladies and lands them at the foot of their own garden. His hard drive of three hours has so tired his mother's horses that it is impossible to pursue the eloping couple.

Scene. — The back of a garden.

Enter Hastings, looking round for some one.

Hastings. — What an idiot I am to wait here for a fellow who probably takes delight in mortifying me ! He never intended to be punctual, and I'll wait no longer. {He starts away but stops.) What do I see? It is he, and perhaps with news of my Constance.

Enter Tony with high top boots, spattered with mud. My honest squire ! I now find you a man of your word. This looks like friendship.

Tony. — Ay, I'm your friend, and the best friend you have in the world, if you knew but all. This riding by night, by the by, is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me worse than the basket of a stage-coach.

Hastings. — But how ? Where did you leave your fellow travellers? Are they in safety? hxt they housed?

Tony. — Five-and- twenty miles in two hours and a half is no such bad driving. The poor beasts have smoked for it. Rabbit me, but I'd rather ride forty miles after a fox, than ten with such varment.

Hastings. — Well, but where have you left the ladies? I die with impatience.

Tony. — Left them? Why, where should I leave them, but where I found them?

Hastings. — This is a riddle.

Tony. — Riddle me this then. What's that goes round the house, and round the house, and never touches the house?

Hastings. — I'm still astray.

Tony. — Why, that's it, mon. I have led them astray. By jingo, there's not a pond or slough within five miles of the place, but they can tell the taste of.

Hastings. — Ha, ha, ha ! I understand : you took them in a round, while they supposed themselves going forward. And so you have at last brought them home again.

Tony. — You shall hear. I first took them down Featherbed Lane, where we stuck fast in the mud. I then rattled them crack over the stones of Up-and-Down Hill — I then introduced them to the gibbet, on Heavy-tree Heath ; and from that with a circumbendibus, I fairly lodged them in the horse-pond at the bottom of the garden.

Hastings. — But no accident, I hope.

Tony. — No, no. Only mother is confoundedly frightened. She thinks herself forty miles off. She's sick of the journey, and the cattle can scarce crawl. So, if your own horses be ready, you may whip off with cousin, and I'll be bound that no soul here can budge a foot to follow you.

Hastings. — My dear friend, how can I be grateful? — But I must hasten to relieve Miss Neville : if you keep the old lady employed, I promise to take care of the young one.

Tony. — Never fear me. (He hears a noise, looks off to the side of the platform and then speaks.} Here she comes. Vanish ! She's got from the pond, and draggled up to the waist like a mermaid. (Hastings hurries out on one side while Mrs. Hardcastle staggers in on the other,)

Mrs. Hardcastle. — Oh, Tony, I'm killed — shook — battered to death. I shall never survive it. That last jolt, that laid us against the quickset hedge, has done my business.

Tony. — Alack ! mamma, it was your own fault. You would be for running away by night, without knowing one inch of the way.

Mrs. Hardcastle. — I wish we were at home again, I never met so many accidents in so short a journey. Drenched in the mud, overturned in a ditch, stuck fast in a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to lose our way ! Whereabouts do you think we are, Tony?

Tony. — By my guess we should be upon Crackskull Common, about forty miles from home.

Mrs. Hardcastle. — Oh, lud ! oh, lud ! the most notorious spot in all the country. We only want a robbery to make a complete night on't.

Tony. — Don't be afraid, mamma ! don't be afraid. Two of the five that were kept here are hanged, and the other three may not find us. Don't be afraid. (He suddenly starts.) Is that a man that's galloping behind us? No, its only a tree. Don't be afraid.

Mrs. Hardcastle. — The fright will certainly kill me.

Tony {starting again). — Do you see anything like a black hat moving behind the thicket?

Mrs. Hardcastle. — Oh, death !

Toxy. — No, it's only a cow. Don't be afraid, mamma : don't be afraid.

Mrs. Hardcastle. — As I'm alive, Tony, I see a man coming towards us. Ah ! I'm sure on't. If he perceives us, we are undone.

Toxy (aside). — Father-in-law, by all that's unlucky, come to take one of his night walks. [To her.) Ah ! it's a highwayman, with pistols as long as my arm. An ill-looking fellow.

Mrs. Hardcastle. — Good Heaven, defend us ! He approaches.

Toxy. — Do you hide yourself in that thicket, and leave me to manage him. If there be any danger, I'll cough and cry — hem ! When I cough, be sure to keep close, f Mrs, Hardcastle hides.)

Enter Mr. Hardcastle, looking round.

Hardcastle. — I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in want of help. ( Tony steps away from his mother's hiding place to meet his father-in-law.) Oh, Tony, is that you? I did not expect you so soon back. Are your mother and her charge in safety?

Tony. — Very safe, sir, at my Aunt Pedigree's. Hem !

Mrs. Hardcastle {she speaks to herself from behind the bush). — Ah, death ! I find there's danger.

Hardcastle. — Forty miles in three hours; sure that's too much, my youngster.

Tony. — Stout horses and willing minds make short journey, as they say. Hem !

Mrs. Hardcastle {she pops her head out). — Sure he'll do the dear boy no harm !

Hardcastle. — But I heard a voice here ; I shall be glad to know from whence it came.

Tony. — It was I, sir ; talking to myself, sir. I was saying that forty miles in three hours was very good going — hem ! As to be sure it was — hem ! I have got a sort of cold by being out in the air. We'll go in, if you please — hem ! {He moves a little farther away from his mother's hiding-place.)

Hardcastle. — But if you talked to yourself you did not answer yourself. I am certain I heard two voices and am resolved {raising his voice) to find the other out.

Mrs. Hardcastle {looking out). — Oh! he's coming to find me out. Oh !

Tony {trying to detain hi?n, getting in his way, etc). — What need you go, sir, if I tell you — hem ! I'll lay down my life for the truth — hem ! I'll tell you all, sir

Hardcastle. — I tell you, I will not be detained. I insist on seeing. It's in vain to expect I'll believe you.

Mrs. Hardcastle {running forward fro in behind). — Oh, lud, he'll murder my poor boy, my darling ! Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon me. Take my money, my life ; but spare that young gentleman, spare my child, if you have any mercy.

Hardcastle. — My wife ! as I'm a Christian. From whence can she come, or what does she mean?

MRS. HARDGASTLE'S JOURNEY. 1 7

Mrs. Hardcastle {kneeling). — Take compassion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. Take our money, our watches, all w r e have \ but spare our lives. We will never bring you to justice ; indeed, we won't, good Mr. Highwayman.

Hardcastle. — I believe the woman's out of her senses. What ! Dorothy, don't you know me?

Mrs. Hardcastle {she starts up to her feet). — Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive ! My fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could have expected to meet you here, in this frightful place, so far from home ? What has brought you to follow us?

Hardcastle. — Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits? So far from home, when you are within forty yards of your ow r n door? {To him.) This is one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue, you. {To her.) Don't you know 7 the gate, and the mulberry tree? and don't you remember the horse-pond, my dear?

Mrs. Hardcastle. — Yes, I shall remember the horse-pond as long as I live : I have caught my death in it. {To Tony.) And is it to you, you graceless varlet, I owe all this? I'll teach you to abuse your mother, I will.

Tony. — Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have spoiled me, and so you may take the fruits on't.

Mrs. Hardcastle. — I'll spoil you, I will. {She follows him as he hastens away off the platform.)

Hardcastle. — There's morality however in his reply. 'He has a knowing look as he goes out.)

A MATTER OF DUTY.

Adapted from " The Dolly Dialogues," by Anthony Hope.

CHARACTERS.

Mr. Carter, a ivell dressed man, rejected lover of Lady

MlCKLEHAM.

Lady Mickleham, a beautiful young lady just married to young Lord Archibald Mickleham.

Situation. — Lady Mickleham is back from her hofieymoon. She has summoned Mr. Carter, a former suitor, to an afternoon tete-a-tete. She carries a fan and he has near him his hat. Her mother-in-law is referred to as the Dowager, a stern, uncompromising woman, who lives at The Towers.

Lady Mickleham and Mr. Carter sit conversing with an afternoon tea-table between them.