The Duchess of Dublin. Baker George Melville
It's an absurd idea to exalt our Maggie to so high a position. Should anybody see her —
Friskey. Ah, but nobody must see her. The duchess is incog. You must communicate in the strictest confidence, and have it distinctly understood that not a word must be said to the doctor about his grand patient.
Lucy. I understand, and you may depend upon me; only if the worst comes I shall throw all the responsibility upon you.
Friskey. And I'll agree to take it all. Come, let's set out.
Lucy. Without seeing Adam?
Friskey. Yes, for I shan't trust you with him until you are fully committed to this arch plot. Come.
Lucy. What, would you rob me of a sight of my Adam?
Friskey. Eve-n so. Am I not robbed of the sight of my Annie?
Lucy. Not even one embrace?
Friskey. As a substitute embrace me. (Throws his arms around her.)
Lucy (screams). You horrid wretch! (Runs off, L., followed by Friskey.)
Dr. Aconite appears, R.
Dr. A. Am I awake? My friend, my bosom friend, with his arms about my affianced bride! Pills and powders! pestle and mortar! am I awake? Well, it's my usual luck. Day by day I've seen my stock of provisions sensibly decrease. I have this morning devoured the last fishball that could be manufactured from the slender stock of codfish and potatoes. It has vanished, and so has my love, with the friend of my bosom. There's nothing left for me now but to make a few slender meals of my sugar-coated pills, fricassee the canary, and then slowly but surely starve. (Sinks into chair, L.)
Enter Annie Aconite, R.
Annie. Well, brother, what would you like for dinner?
Dr. A. Dinner? ha, ha! Dinner! Well, what say you to roast turkey with cranberry sauce?
Annie. Brother!
Dr. A. Or roast goose, with guava jelly?
Annie. Brother!
Dr. A. Or roast buffalo, with venison steak, devilled kidneys, and salmon, with oyster sauce on the half shell.
Annie. Adam, are you crazy?
Dr. A. Why not? Our dinner must be an imaginary one, so let's have it as costly and luxurious as possible. There's nothing in the larder. Let's be extravagant, and cook it all.
Annie. Why, how you rave! Is the money all gone?
Dr. A. Every cent.
Annie. But the butcher?
Dr. A. Would carve me with his meat-axe if I asked for credit.
Annie. Then I'll try him. He won't carve me. Now don't be despondent. We have always had a dinner, and, depend upon it, you shall to-day.
Dr. A.
"O Woman, in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please;
But, when the dinner seems to lag,
You'll have it, if you boil the puddin'-bag."
Annie, why don't you marry Frank Friskey?
Annie. Adam, why don't you marry the little milliner?
Dr. A. Because I have no patients.
Annie. And I have patience to wait until you get them before I marry Frank.
Dr. A. But I never shall have a patient. There's a dead set against me. They're determined I shall not cure or kill anybody until I kill myself with waiting.
Annie. Not so bad as that, Adam. Be patient, and wait.
Dr. A. O, humbug! My instruments are all getting rusty, my pills old, my plasters cracking, and my drops drying up. Hang it, I'll go and doctor myself for amusement. (Knock, L.)
Annie. Hush! Perhaps there's a call.
Dr. A. The undertaker, perhaps, in search of a job. Come in.
Enter Dennis, L.
Dennis. The top uv the mornin' to ye's. Is the docther man in – I donno?
Dr. A. Yes, I'm the doctor.
Dennis. Is that so? Yer rivirance, if ye plaze, Squire Croony wants ye's quick. The ould missus's howlin' in the pangs uv insinsibility, the young masther's took wid the jumpin' croup in his skull, and the babby's got the janders – an' it's pisoned they all are intirely.
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