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HOB AND NOB.

A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE, IN ONE ACT.

BY MADISON MORTON.

DRAMATIS PERSONA.

JOHN NOB, A journeyman printer. MR. BOUNCER, A lodging-house JAMES HOB, A journeyman hatter.

COSTUMES.

NOB, A small swallow-tailed black coat, short buff waistcoat, light trousers-short, turned up at bottom,- black stock. ings, shoes, cotton neckcloth, and shabby black hat.

keeper.

HOв, A brown coat, long white
waistcoat, dark trousers, boots,
white hat, and black stock.
MR. BOUNCER, A waistcoat, nan.
keen trousers, and white ap-

ron.

REMARKS. The parts of Hob and Nob should be played in a manner bordering on burlesque; the more extravagart they can be made, the nearer will they be represented as the author intended, providing, always, that the bounds of gentlemanly conduct are not passed by the personators.

SCENE. A Room. At c., a bed with curtains closed; at L.

c., a door; at L. H., a door; a chest of drawers, L. H.; at back R. H., a window; a door R. H; below the door R. H., a fireplace with a mantle over it; table and chairs R. C.; a box of matches on the mantle-piece; a gridiron hanging by the side of the fireplace. Hoв, dressed, with the exception of his coat, is discovered looking at himself in a small looking-glass, which he holds in his hands. Hob should wear a close-cropped, light-colored wig.

Never mind

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Hob. I've half a mind to register an oath, that I'll never have my hair cut again! I look as if I had just been cropped for the militia! And I was particularly emphatic in my directions to the hair-dresser, only to cut the ends off. He must have thought I meant the other ends! I shan't meet any body to care about so early. I declare! I haven't a moment to lose. me with the most punctual, particular, and peremptory of hatters, and I must fulfill my destiny. (Knock, L.) Open locks, whoever knocks.

Mr. B.

Enter MR. BOUNCER.

Eight o'clock, Fate has placed

Good-morning, Mr. Hob, I hope you slept comfortably, Mr. Hob?

Hob. I can't say I did, Mr. B. I should feel obliged to you, if you would induce Mrs. B. to accommodate me with a more protuberant bolster, Mr. 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.

Mr. B. Any thing to accommodate you, Mr. Hob. Mrs. B. has gone into the country for a day or two, leaving me to attend to the wishes of her respected lodger.

Hob. Thank you; then, perhaps, you'll be good enough to hold this glass while I finish my toilet.

Mr. B. Certainly. (Holding glass before Hob, who ties on his cravat.) Why, I do declare, you've had your hair cut! Hob. 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 down 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 of 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 wabble about rather less than the others. (Puts on a hat.) And now I'm off! By the-bye, Mr. Bouncer, I wish to call your attention to a fact that has been evident to me for some time past, and that is, that the coals go remarkably fast.

Mr. B. Lor, Mr. Hob!

Hob. It's not only the case with the coals, Mr. Bouncer but I've lately observed a gradual and steady increase of evap oration among my candles, wood, sugar, and lucifer matches.

Mr. B. Lor, Mr. Hob! you surely don't suspect me? Hob. I don't say I do, Mr. B.; only I wish you distinctly to understand, that I don't believe it's the cat.

Mr. B. Is there any thing else you've got to grumble about, sir?

Hob. Grumble! Mr. Bouncer, do you possess such a thing as a dictionary?

Mr. B. No sir.

Hob. 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, Mr. 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?

Mr. B. Why, I suppose the chimney—

Hob. The chimney doesn't smoke tobacco; I'm speaking of tobacco smoke, Mr. B. I hope, Mr. B., your wife is not guilty of cheroots or Cubas?

Mr. B. Not she, indeed, Mr. Hob.

Hob. Nor partial to a pipe?
No, sir.

Mr. B.

Hob. Then how is it that

Mr. B. (confused.) Why-I suppose-yes that must be it.

Hob. At present, I am entirely of your opinion; because I haven't the most distant particle of an idea what you mean.

Mr. B. Why, the gentleman who has got the attics is hardly ever without a pipe in his mouth—and there he sits with his feet on the mantle-piece —

Hob. The mantle-piece! that strikes me as being a considerable stretch, either of your imagination, Mr. B., or the gentleman's legs. I presume you mean the fender, or tne hob. Mr. B. Sometimes one, sometimes t'other. Well, there he sits for hours, and puffs away into the fireplace.

Hob. Ah! then you mean to say, that this gentleman's smoke, instead of imitating the example of all other sorts of smoke, and going up the chimney, thinks proper to effect a singularity by taking the contrary direction?

Mr. B. Why

Hob. Then, I suppose, the gentleman you are speaking of is the same individual that I invariably meet coming up stairs when I'm going down, and going down stairs when I'm coming up?

Mr. B. Why-yes-I

Hob. From the appearance of his outward man, I should unhesitatingly set him down as a gentleman connected with the printing interest.

Mr. B. Yes sir; and a very respectable young gentleman he is.

Hob. Well, good-morning, Mr. Bouncer.

Mr. B. You'll be back at your usual time, I suppose, sir! Hob. Yes, nine o'clock. You need n't light my fire in future, Mr. B.; I'll do it myself. Don't forget the bolster. (Going-stops.) A half-penny-worth of milk, Mr. Bouncer, and be good enough to let it stand,-I wish the cream to accumulate. (Exit L

Mr. B. He's gone at last! I declare I was all in a tremble for fear Mr. Nob should come in before Mr. Hob went out! Luckily, they've never met yet, and, what's more, shey're not very likely to do so, for Mr. Nob is hard at ~

at a newspaper office all night, and doesn't come home till morning; and Mr. Hob is busy making hats all day long, and does n't come home till night; so that I'm getting double rent for my room, and neither of my lodgers is any the wiser for it. It was a capital idea of mine, that it was! But as Mrs. Bouncer has left me to attend to the domestic affairs, I haven't an instant to lose. First of all, let me put Mr. Hob's things out of Mr. Nob's way. (Takes the three hats, Hob's dressing gown and slippers, and puts them away R. H.) I really must beg Mr. Nob not to smoke so much; I was so dreadfully puzzled to know what to say, when Mr. Hob spoke about it. Now, then, to make the bed,—and I must n't forget what Mrs. Bouncer told me: the head of the bed for Mr. Hob becomes the foot of the bed for Mr. Nob-people's tastes do differ so. (Goes behind the curtain of the bed, and seems to be making it; then appears with a very thin bolster in his · hands.) The idea of Mr. Hob presuming to complain of such a bolster as this! (Disappears again behind curtain.) Nob, (without.) Why don't you keep your own side of the staircase, sir? (Enters L., then puts his head out at door again, shouting.) It was as much your fault as mine, sir! I say, sir, it was as much your fault as mine, sir!

Mr. B. (emerging from behind the curtains of bed.) Sir, Mr. Nob, what's the matter?

Nob. None of your business, Mr. Bouncer!

Mr. B.

Dear, dear Mr. Nob, what a temper you are in, to be sure! I declare, you're quite pale in the face.

Nob. What color would you have a man to be, who has been setting up long leaders for a daily paper all night! Mr. B. But then you've all the day to yourself. Nob, (looking significantly at Mr. Bouncer.) So it seems! Far be it from me, Bouncer, to hurry your movements; but 1 think it right to acquaint you with my immediate intention of divesting myself of my garmente, and going to bed.

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