THE MINOR DRAMA.

No. XXI.

BOX AND COX.

A Romance of Real Life

IN ONE ACT.

BY JOHN MADDISON MORTON, ESQ.

WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTERS, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c.

NEW YORK:

DOUGLAS, NO. 11 SPRUCE ST

AND FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.

1848.

CAST OF CHARACTERS.

COSTUMES.

BOX.—Small swallow-tailed black coat, short buff waistcoat, light drab trowsers short, turned up at bottom, black stockings, white canvass boots with black tips, cotton neckcloth, shabby black hat.

COX.—Brown Newmarket coat, long white waistcoat, dark plaid trowsers, boots, white hat, black stock.

MRS. BOUNCER.—Coloured cotton gown, apron, cap, &c.

First produced at the Royal Lyceum Theatre, November 1st, 1847

Time in Representation—35 Minutes.

EXITS AND ENTRANCES.

R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; S. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door.

RELATIVE POSITIONS.

R., means Right; L., Left; C., Centre; R. C., Right of Centre; L. C., Left of Centre.

BOX AND COX.

ACT I.

Scene I—A Room, decently furnished. At C., a bed, with curtains closed, at L. C., a door, at L. 3d E., a door, at L. S. E., a chest of drawers, at back, R., a window, at R. 3d E., a door, at R. S. E., a fireplace, with mantel-piece, table and chairs, a few common ornaments on chimney-piece. Cox, dressed, with the exception of his coat, is looking at himself in a small looking-glass, which is in his hand.

Cox. I’ve half a mind to register an oath that I’ll never have my hair cut again! [His hair is very short.] I look as if I had just been cropped for the militia! And I was particularly emphatic in my instructions to the hair-dresser, only to cut the ends off. He must have thought I meant the other ends! Never mind—I shan’t meet anybody to care about so early. Eight o’clock, I declare! I haven’t a moment to lose. Fate has placed me with the most punctual, particular, and peremptory of hatters, and I must fulfil my destiny. [Knock at L. D.] Open locks, whoever knocks!

Enter Mrs. Bouncer, L.

Mrs. B. Good-morning, Mr. Cox. I hope you slept comfortably, Mr. Cox?

Cox. I can’t say I did, Mrs. B. I should feel obliged to you, if you could accommodate me with a more protuberant bolster, Mrs. B. The one I’ve got now seems to me to have about a handful and a half of feathers at each end, and nothing whatever in the middle.

Mrs. B. Anything to accommodate you, Mr. Cox.

Cox. Thank you. Then, perhaps, you’ll be good enough to hold this glass, while I finish my toilet.

Mrs. B. Certainly. [Holding glass before Cox, who ties his cravat.] Why, I do declare, you’ve had your hair cut.

Cox. Cut? It strikes me I’ve had it mowed! It’s very kind of you to mention it, but I’m sufficiently conscious of the absurdity of my personal appearance already. [Puts on his coat.] Now for my hat. [Puts on his hat, which comes over his eyes.] That’s the effect of having one’s hair cut. This hat fitted me quite tight before. Luckily I’ve got two or three more. [Goes in at L., and returns, with three hats of different shapes, and puts them on, one after the other—all of which are too big for him.] This is pleasant! Never mind. This one appears to me to wabble about rather less than the others—[Puts on hat,]—and now I’m off! By the bye, Mrs. Bouncer, I wish to call your attention to a fact that has been evident to me for some time past—and that is, that my coals go remarkably fast—

Mrs. B. Lor, Mr. Cox!

Cox. It is not the case only with the coals, Mrs. Bouncer, but I’ve lately observed a gradual and steady increase of evaporation among my candles, wood, sugar, and lucifer matches.

Mrs. B. Lor, Mr. Cox! you surely don’t suspect me?

Cox. I don’t say I do, Mrs. B.; only I wish you distinctly to understand, that I don’t believe it’s the cat.

Mrs. B. Is there anything else you’ve got to grumble about, sir?

Cox. Grumble! Mrs. Bouncer, do you possess such a thing as a dictionary?

Mrs. B. No, sir.

Cox. Then I’ll lend you one—and if you turn to the letter G, you’ll find “Grumble, verb neuter—to complain without a cause.” Now that’s not my case, Mrs. B., and now that we are upon the subject, I wish to know how it is that I frequently find my apartment full of smoke?

Mrs. B. Why—I suppose the chimney—

Cox. The chimney doesn’t smoke tobacco. I’m speaking of tobacco smoke, Mrs. B. I hope, Mrs. Bouncer, you’re not guilty of cheroots or Cubas?

Mrs. B. Not I, indeed, Mr. Cox.

Cox. Nor partial to a pipe?

Mrs. B. No, sir.

Cox. Then, how is it that—

Mrs. B.