OR, CHANGE OF NAME. A Farce, IN ONE ACT. BY WILLIAM HANCOCK. AUTHOR OF JOHN SMITH, MARGATE SANDS, STOLEN! £20 REWARD, ETC., ETC., ETC. AND ARTHUR MOORE. THOMAS HAILES LACY, MR. SCROGGINS. First performed at the Theatre Royal Sadler's Wells (under the management of Miss Marriott) on Saturday, September 14, 1867. CHESTERFIELD STANHOPE.-Light summer suit. TATTLE.-1st dress: Dressing gown, light trousers and waistcoat, crimson tie, and smoking cap. 2nd dress: Frock coat, light kid gloves. NIMBLE.-Smart walking dress. This Farce is the property of Mr. T. H. Lacy.] MR. SCROGGINS; OR, CHANGE OF NAME. SCENE.-A drawing-room. French window, open, c. in F. with balcony. Doors R. and L., table R. c., books and a letter lying upon it. Sofa L. c. JANE discovered, dusting furniture-a cornet heard, badly played, without. JANE. There's that blessed Major What's-his-name, as lives next door, at it again. He is always at it for two hours every morning reg'lar. That's him as the girl at number five says is always a-poking his nose into other people's business. He went and told her missus as how she had follerers, and it wasn't nothing of the sort, only her cousin Tom as happened to call when the family was out; and he set Mr. and Mrs. Jones, at number thirteen, by the ears for a whole week, telling Mrs. J. as how he had seed her husband along with a lady in a blue dress and a black lace shawl at the Crystial Palace, and it turned out Mr. Jones wasn't there at all, leastways he brought a particular friend of his to prove he dined with him at Greenwich that very day. If there's any class of people as I abominates, it's them as can't mind their own business. (goes to window while speaking, TATTLE appears suddenly at c.-JANE screams) La! sir, I declare you frightened me out of my senses. (aside) They say, talk of the TATTLE. Well, when you have quite recovered the use of them perhaps you will tell your master I am here. Take your time, don't hurry. (reclines on sofa.) JANE. (aside) Well, he might have gone to the front door and knocked-but there, them milingtary is the impertinentest (aloud) Master's at home, sir, but TATTLE. I know he is. JANE. But I don't know if he's particularly engaged, sir. TATTLE. I do. He is smoking a cigar in the back garden, Bad habit in the morning, won't do him any good. When you have quite recovered, tell him I am here, will you— Major Tattle, his next door neighbour. JANE. (sulkily) Yes sir. (aside, going L.) Well, of all the cool imperence, cowcumbers is nothing to it. (Exit L. TATTLE. It's extremely odd how people take to me, very odd, but they do. Here is my new neighbour, Mr. Stanhope-Mr. Chesterfield Stanhope as he insists on being called, only came in here the day before yesterday, and we are on excellent terms already. There must be an undefinable something about me that invites friendship and confidence. (rising) Everything very nice upon my word, very nice indeed. Furniture all new, and in excellent taste. I saw Pipe and Puncheon's cart yesterday at the door with wine, three dozen, I counted it. Altogether, Mr. Stanhope is likely to prove a very desirable neighbour -I wonder what he is, and where he comes from. There's nothing very distingué about his appearance-but then his name. A man with such a name as Chesterfield Stanhope must be respectable. (takes letter from table, reads) “Mr. Septimus Scroggins," a letter, an opened letter for Mr. Septimus Scroggins, no address. Is there anyone else living here, the possessor of this euphonious name, I wonder. Scroggins, Scroggins! where have I heard that name. (opens book) Why here is Scroggins again in this book. (reads title of second book) "Hervey's Meditations Among the Tombs." Remarkably cheerful reading, just the sort of thing for a wet day at a watering-place. (opens it) Why here is Scroggins again, I declare, "from his sister Angelina Ann." Why all the books seem to be Scroggins's. Where have I heard the name? Tut, tutoh, I recollect, it's the name of that lady I met at Mrs. Trapley's the other evening, who has taken apartments at Primrose Villa, and who has just sued for a divorce from her husband on the ground of cruelty and desertion. However, that Scroggins can't be this Scroggins; no, this must be some friend of Stanhope's who has his letters sent here, but that won't account for Scroggins's books being here too. Now I wonder who Scroggins is, I shan't be easy in my mind till I find out. I'll soon find out, I've a wonderful way of worming things out of people. Enter STANHOPE, L. 1 E. STAN. (aside) Major Tattle here, my next-door neigh bour, whom I invited, or rather who invited himself, to call. TATTLE. (R. C.) Ha! Mr. Stanhope, good morning, good morning. STAN. Chesterfield Stanhope, if you please. TATTLE. I beg pardon, Mr. Chesterfield Stanhope. TATTLE. True to my promise you see, I have dropped in for half-an-hour's chat. It is barely a step from my sittingroom to yours by the balcony, so I came in by the window. You see I don't stand upon ceremony. STAN. (aside) No, I'll be hanged if you do. TATTLE. Remarkably convenient arrangement, these semi-detached houses, when neighbours are on friendly terms, like ourselves for instance. STAN. Oh, very, very. (aside) It's the name does it. It's astonishing how much more attention I meet with under my new name, than I ever did under the old one. (sees letter) Hallo! I have left one of the old letters I turned out of my desk this morning on the table. (furtively puts letter into his pocket.) TATTLE. (aside) He has put the letter-Scroggins's letter -in his pocket. (aloud) You, you are quite alone here? STAN. Oh yes, yes, quite alone. TATTLE. No lodger? STAN. Lodger, sir. Do I look as if I let lodgings? No friend I should have said. Seeing another name in one or two of the books I was glancing at just now I- (STANHOPE starts) Ha! he starts. STAN. (aside) I forgot to tear out the page of those confounded books. (aloud) Oh, ha, yes, exactly. (aside) What shall I say. (aloud) I, I bought them at an auction along with a coal-scuttle, a four post bedstead, and a flat iron, the property of a gentleman deceased. TATTLE. Ah, Scroggins, oh Scroggins is dead is he? STAN. Ye-yes. (aside) I wonder how many more lies I shall have to tell. TATTLE. (sits R.) Scroggins! What a dreadful name. STAN. (sits R. c.) Ha, you think so. So do I, so do I, a dreadful name. (aside) How fortunate he don't know the truth. He would cut me at once. TATTLE. (aside) Not his friend. The auction story won't wash though. They don't sell letters by auction, except |