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

SCENE II.—A Street.— Stage half dark.

Enter CRIBBS, R.


  Plague take the fellow; who would have thought he would have been so foolishly conscientious? I will not abandon my scheme on the house of Rencelaw though; the speculation is too good to be lost. Why! as I live, here comes that old fool, Miss Spindle.

Enter MISS SPINDLE, L., her dress a ridiculous compound of by-gone days, and present fashions.

Miss S.

  Why! this New York is the most awful place


to find one's way I was ever in; it's all ups and downs, ins and outs. I've been trying for two hours to find Trinity Church steeple—and I can't see it, though they tell me it's six hundred yards high.


  Why! angelic Miss Spindle, how do you do? How long have you been in the commercial emporium?

Miss S.

  Oh, Squire Cribbs, how d'ye do? I don't know what you mean by the uproarium, but for certain it is the noisiest place I ever did see. But, Squire, what has become of the Middletons, can you tell?


  I've had my eye upon them; they're down, Miss Spindle, never to rise again; as for that vagrant, Edward—

Miss S.

  Ah! Squire! what an escape I had! How fortunate that I was not ruined by the nefarious influence, the malignant coruscation of his illimitable seductions. How lucky that prim Miss Mary Wilson was subjected to his hideous arts, instead of my virgin immaculate innocence!


  Do you know why his wife left the village and came to New York?

Miss S.

  Oh, she is low, degraded! She sank so far as to take in washing, to feed herself and child. She would sooner follow her drunken husband, and endeavor to preserve him as she said, than remain where she was.


  Well, well, they are down low enough now. Which way are you going, towards Broadway? Why, I'm going towards Broadway myself. Allow me the exquisite honor of beauing you,—this way perfection of sex, and adoration of ours—your arm, lovely and immaculate Miss Spindle. [Exit together, arm in arm, L.

Enter EDWARD and 1st and 2d Loafer, R.

1st Loafer.

  To be sure I did. I swore if he didn't let me have two or three dollars, I'd tell his old man of last night's scrape, and I soon got it to get rid of me.

2d Loafer.

  Hurrah for snakes! who's afraid of fire. Come, Ned, two or three glasses will soon drive away the blue devils. Let's have some brandy.


  With all my heart. Brandy, be it. Since I am thus abandoned—deserted—the sooner I drown all


remembrance of my wretchedness the better, come! Boys, brandy be it. Hurrah!


  [Sing.] "Here's a health to all good lasses!" [Exeunt, R.