ACT II
Scene I
(Inner apartment of Mr. Tiffany's Counting House. Mr. Tiffany, R. c., seated at a desk looking over papers. Mr. Snobson, L. C., on a high stool at another desk, with a pen behind his ear.)
(rising L., advances L. to the front of the stage, regards Tiffany and shrugs his shoulders) How the old boy frets and fumes over those papers, to be sure! He's working himself into a perfect fever--ex-actly,--therefore bleeding's the prescription! So here goes! (aside) Mr. Tiffany, a word with you, if you please, Sir?
(sitting still) Speak on, Mr. Snobson, I attend.
What I have to say, Sir, is a matter of the first importance to the credit of the concern--the credit of the concern, Mr. Tiffany!
Proceed, Mr. Snobson.
Sir, you've a handsome house--fine carriage--nigger in livery--feed on the fat of the land--everything first rate--
Well, Sir?
My salary, Mr. Tiffany!
It has been raised three times within the last year.
Still it is insufficient for the necessities of an honest man,--mark me, an honest man, Mr. Tiffany.
(crossing L.) What a weapon he has made of that word! (aside) Enough--another hundred shall be added. Does that content you?
There is one other subject which I have before mentioned, Mr. Tiffany,--your daughter,--what's the reason you can't let the folks at home know at once that I'm to be the man?
Villain! And must the only seal upon this scoundrel's lips be placed there by the hand of my daughter? (aside) Well, Sir, it shall be as you desire.
And Mrs. Tiffany shall be informed of your resolution?
Yes.
Enough said! That's the ticket! The credit of the concern's safe, Sir!
(returns to his seat.)
How low have I bowed to this insolent rascal! To rise himself he mounts upon my shoulders, and unless I can shake him off he must crush me! (aside)
(Enter Trueman, C., down on L. H.)
Here I am, Antony, man! I told you I'd pay you a visit in your money-making quarters. (looks around) But it looks as dismal here as a cell in the States' Prison!
(forcing a laugh) Ha, ha, ha ! States' Prison! You are so facetious! Ha, ha, ha!
Well, for the life of me I can't see anything so amusing in that! I should think the States' Prison plaguy uncomfortable lodgings. And you laugh, man, as though you fancied yourself there already.
Ha, ha, ha!
(imitating him) Ha, ha, ha! What on earth do you mean by that ill-sounding laugh, that has nothing of a laugh about it! This fashion-worship has made heathens and hypocrites of you all! Deception is your household God! A man laughs as if he were crying, and cries as if he were laughing in his sleeve. Everything is something else from what it seems to be. I have lived in your house only three days, and I've heard more lies than were ever invented during a Presidential election! First your fine lady of a wife sends me word that she's not at home--I walk up stairs, and she takes good care that I shall not be at home--wants to turn me out of doors. Then you come in--take your old friend by the hand--whisper, the deuce knows what, in your wife's ear, and the tables are turned in a tangent! Madam curtsies--says she's enchanted to see me--and orders her grinning nigger to show me a room.
We were exceedingly happy to welcome you as our guest!
Happy? You happy? Ah! Antony! Antony! that hatchet face of yours, and those criss-cross furrows tell quite another story! It's many a long day since you were happy at anything! You look as if you'd melted down your flesh into dollars, and mortgaged your soul in the bargain! Your warm heart has grown cold over your ledger--your light spirits heavy with calculation! You have traded away your youth--your hopes--your tastes for wealth! and now you have the wealth you coveted, what does it profit you? Pleasure it cannot buy; for you have lost your capacity for enjoyment--Ease it will not bring; for the love of gain is never satisfied! It has made your counting-house a penitentiary, and your home a fashionable museum where there is no niche for you! You have spent so much time ciphering in the one, that you find yourself at last a very cipher in the other! See me, man! seventy-two last August!--strong as a hickory and every whit as sound!
I take the greatest pleasure in remarking your superiority, Sir.
Bah! no man takes pleasure in remarking the superiority of another! Why the deuce can't you speak the truth, man? But it's not the fashion I suppose! I have not seen one frank, open face since--no, no, I can't say that either, though lying is catching! There's that girl, Gertrude, who is trying to teach your daughter music--but Gertrude was bred in the country!