UTC
The Drunkard; or, the Fallen Saved
Adapted by W.H. Smith
New York: WM. Taylor and Co.1850

SCENE III.—A Country Bar-Room.—Old-fashioned gun hung up.—Cow notices, &c., &c.—STEVENS, the Drover seated at table.—Several loafers.—Landlord behind Bar at L. attending.—Decanters filled with different liquors, on bar.—Stools, benches, &c., &c.


Stevens.

  [Seated, R. C.] Well, I don't know, Mr. Landlord, them are 'counts we have about Queen Victory, amounts to just about as much as the frogs and mice.


Landlord.

  Oh, that's Pope; we've got the book in the house now—the battle of frogs and mice.


2d Loafer.

  Landlord, will you just score up another three-center—I feel deuced bad.


Landlord.

  No, thank'ye, Sam; rub off old sores, and then—

Enter EDWARD MIDDLETON, dress rather shabby, from door, R.—All look at him; he walks up to the bar.


Edward.

  Give me some brandy. [Drinks] How much, landlord!


Landlord.

  A six-pence, sir. This is something 'sperior; a bottle I keep for those who are willing to pay a little more—are you quite well, sir?


Edward.

  Well, well, quite well, I thank you—this is good, landlord, another glass.

Enter CRIBBS, R. D.


Cribbs.

  Ha! Mr. Middleton, you here! He! he! he! Well, come, that's a good one. First time I was ever


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here except on business—dare say you can say the same. Well, this is fine. Now, my young friend, since we have met each other, we'll honor the house.


Landlord.

  Squire, how are you; glad to see you. [Shakes hand across the bar.] What's it to be, gentlemen. The same, Mr. Middleton?


Edward.

  Oh! I must be excused; you know I just drank.


"Cribbs.

  Well, well, I'll leave it to him. Landlord, how long is it since I've seen you?


"Landlord.

  Why, Squire, it must be full ten years ago; you remember the day Si Morton had his raising? the day I saw you digging in the woods.


"Cribbs.

  [Starts violently.] Go on, go on—nothing but the cramp. I'm subject to it.


"Landlord.

  Well, Squire, I've never seed you since then."


Cribbs.

  Well, come, let's drink; come, Edward.


Landlord.

  Oh, take a little more, Mr. Middleton—the Squire wouldn't advise you to what wasn't right.


Edward.

  Well, I—


Cribbs.

  Well, come, here's whiskey—good whiskey.


Edward.

  I believe I drank—


Landlord.

  Mr. Middleton drank brandy before.


Cribbs.

  Not half so healthy as good whiskey.


Edward.

  Oh, whiskey be it. It can't be stronger than the other was. [Stevens looks up and shakes his head.


Edward.

  [Drinks.] Well, this is pleasant, ha! ha! this goes to the right place, eh, Cribbs. Is this Irish whiskey?


Landlord.

  Yes, sir; pure Innishowen.


Edward.

  Well, the Irish are a noble people, ain't they, Cribbs? [Slightly intoxicated.] Friend Cribbs, I think I may call you. I never doubted it.


Cribbs.

  Never!


Edward.

  Oh! I might have suspected; but "suspicion's but at best a coward's virtue;" the sober second thought—


Cribbs.

  Oh, exactly. [Shaking his hand earnestly.


Edward.

  I have a heart, Cribbs—[Getting tipsey.] I have a heart; landlord, more whiskey; come gentlemen, come one, come all. Landlord!


Landlord.

  In one minute, sir.


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Edward.

  Landlord, give them all anything they want, come—a bumper—here's the health of my old friend Cribbs. [Drinks it off.


Cribbs.

  [Throwing away his liquor unseen.] Well, here goes.


Edward.

  Landlord! landlord.


Landlord.

  Sir?


Edward.

  I have a heart, Cribbs. We know how to do the handsome thing, landlord. [Cribbs slyly fills Edward's glass.


Landlord.

  Don't we? It takes us, sir.


Edward.

  [Drinks.] Well, I think, landlord, a little spirit hurts no man.


Landlord.

  Oh, no, sir; no—does him good.


Edward.

  I have a heart, Squibbs—a heart, my old boy; come, let's have another horn.— [1st loafer falls asleep on bench R. against partition.]—Come, boys, trot up, I'll pay.


2d Loafer.

  Well, I don't want to hurt the house.


3d Loafer.

  Oh, no—musn't hurt the house. [Walking up to bar.


Stevens.

  Come, don't you hear the news? [Strikes 1st loafer with whip, and he falls on ground.


1st Loafer.

  Well—[Lazily.]—I don't want to hurt the house. [Tumbles against the wall.


Landlord.

  You will hurt the house, if you butt off the plastering at that rate.


Edward.

  A bumper—well, in the absence of Burgundy, whiskey will do, eh, old Ribbs— [Hitting Cribbs.]—why don't you join us, old sulky. [To Stevens.


Stevens.

  I drink when I'm dry, and what I drink I pay for.


Edward.

  —You're saucy, old fellow.


Stevens.

  Do you think I'm a sponge, to put my hands into another man's pocket? Go away, you make a fool of yourself.


Edward.

  A fool! say that again, and I'll knock you down—a fool!


Stevens.

  [Rising.] I want nothing to say to you—be off—you're drunk.


Edward.

  [Strikes him.] Death and fury! drunk!


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Stevens.

  Take that, then—[Cribbs and others sneak off—struggle—Stevens hits him down with whip.]—Landlord, you see I was not to blame for this. [Exit Stevens, R. D.


Landlord.

  Well, he's got in any how—serve him right, quarrelsome young fool. House was quiet enough till he came in disturbing honest people. This is too bad. How to get this fellow home? He lives two miles from here, at least.

Enter WILLIAM DOWTON, R. D.


William.

  Mr. Middleton—where is he? Lord ha' mercy! what is this? Speak! [Seizes Landlord.] If you have done this, I'll tear our your cursed windpipe, old heathen.


Landlord.

  In my own house? Let go my throat.


William.

  Who did this.


Landlord.

  Let go; it wasn't me, it was drover Stevens.


William.

  [Throws him off, kneels by Middleton.] Blood on his forehead—Mr. Edward, speak to me, oh, speak—his poor wife—poor old sick Mrs. Wilson, too.


Edward.

  [Reviving.] What is this? what's been the matter here?


William.

  Don't you know me, sir? It's William, sir; poor Bill, come to help you home. Sam Stanhope told me you were in a row at the tavern, sir.


Edward.

  Oh, yes, I remember; where are they all? where's Cribbs? where's Cribbs?


William.

  Cribbs! was he with him?


Landlord.

  Why, yes, I guess the Squire was here a short spell. Well, you can walk, sir, can't you?


Edward.

  Walk, yes, I can walk—what's the matter with my head? Blood? I must have fallen against the corner of the bench.


Landlord.

  Don't you remember Mr. Stevens?


Edward.

  I don't know what you mean by Stevens; what the devil have I been about?


Landlord.

  Why, Stevens said you were drunk, and you hit him, and he knocked you down with his whip-handle.


William.

  And if I get a hold of Mr. Stevens, I'll make him smell something nastier than peaches, or my name's not Bill. Come, sir, come home.


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Edward.

  Drunk! fighting! Oh, shame, shame!


William.

  Lean on me, Mr. Edward. You go sand your sugar, and water your bad brandy, old corkscrew! His poor wife!


Edward.

  Hush, William, hush.


William.

  Pray give me pardon, sir; oh, I wish I had died before I had seen this.


Edward.

  Drunk, fighting—my wife, my children! Oh, agony! agony! [Exit, leaning on William, L. D.Landlord retires behind bar.