Hobsons Choice | Page 3

Courting must come first.
MAGGIE. It needn't. (She picks up a slipper on desk L.). See that
slipper with a fancy buckle on to make it pretty? Courting's like that,
my lass. All glitter and no use to nobody. (She replaces slipper and sits
at her desk.)
(HENRY HORATIO HOBSON enters from the house. He is fifty-five,
successful, coarse, florid, and a parent of the period. His hat is on. It is
one of those felt hats which are half-way to tall hats in shape. He has a
heavy gold chain and masonic emblems on it. His clothes are bought to
wear.)
HOBSON. Maggie, I'm just going out for a quarter of an hour. (Moves
over to doors L.)
MAGGIE. Yes, father. Don't be late for dinner. There's liver.
HOBSON. It's an hour off dinner-time. (Going.)
MAGGIE. So that, if you stay more than an hour in the Moonraker's
Inn, you'll be late for it.
HOBSON. "Moonraker's?" Who said--? (Turning.)
VICKEY. If your dinner's ruined, it'll be your own fault.
HOBSON. Well, I'll be eternally--
ALICE. Don't swear, father.

HOBSON (putting hat on counter). No. I'll sit down instead. (He moves
to R. C. and sits in arm-chair R. C. facing them.) Listen to me, you
three. I've come to conclusions about you. And I won't have it. Do you
hear that? Interfering with my goings out and comings in. The idea!
I've a mind to take measures with the lot of you.
MAGGIE. I expect Mr. Heeler's waiting for you in "Moonraker's,"
father.
HOBSON. He can go on waiting. At present, I'm addressing a few
remarks to the rebellious females of this house, and what I say will be
listened to and heeded. I've noticed it coming on ever since your
mother died. There's been a gradual increase of uppishness towards me.
VICKEY. Father, you'd have more time to talk after we've closed
to-night. (She is anxious to resume her reading.)
HOBSON. I'm talking now, and you're listening. Providence has
decreed that you should lack a mother's hand at the time when single
girls grow bumptious and must have somebody to rule. But I'll tell you
this, you'll none rule me.
VICKEY. I'm sure I'm not bumptious, father.
HOBSON. Yes, you are. You're pretty, but you're bumptious, and I hate
bumptiousness like I hate a lawyer.
ALICE. If we take trouble to feed you it's not bumptious to ask you not
to be late for your food.
VICKEY. Give and take, father.
HOBSON. I give and you take, and it's going to end.
MAGGIE. How much a week do you give us?
HOBSON. That's neither here nor there. (Rises and moves to doors L.)
At moment I'm on uppishness, and I'm warning you your conduct
towards your parent's got to change. (Turns to the counter.) But that's

not all. That's private conduct, and now I pass to broader aspects and I
speak of public conduct. I've looked upon my household as they go
about the streets, and I've been disgusted. The fair name and fame of
Hobson have been outraged by members of Hobson's family, and
uppishness has done it.
VICKEY. I don't know what you're talking about.
HOBSON. Vickey, you're pretty, but you can lie like a gas-meter. Who
had new dresses on last week?
ALICE. I suppose you mean Vickey and me!
HOBSON. I do.
VICKEY. We shall dress as we like, father, and you can save your
breath.
HOBSON. I'm not stopping in from my business appointment for the
purpose of saving my breath.
VICKEY. You like to see me in nice clothes.
HOBSON. I do. I like to see my daughters nice. (Crosses R.) That's
why I pay Mr. Tudsbury, the draper, 10 pounds a year a head to dress
you proper. It pleases the eye and it's good for trade. But, I'll tell you, if
some women could see themselves as men see them, they'd have a
shock, and I'll have words with Tudsbury an' all, for letting you dress
up like guys. (Moves L.) I saw you and Alice out of the "Moonraker's"
parlour on Thursday night and my friend Sam Minns--(Turns.)
ALICE. A publican.
HOBSON. Aye, a publican. As honest a man as God Almighty ever set
behind a bar, my ladies. My friend, Sam Minns, asked me who you
were. And well he might. You were going down Chapel Street with a
hump added to nature behind you.
VICKEY (scandalized). Father!

HOBSON. The hump was wagging, and you put your feet on pavement
as if you'd got chilblains--aye, stiff neck above and weak knees below.
It's immodest!
ALICE. It is not immodest, father. It's the fashion to wear bustles.
HOBSON. Then to hell with the fashion.
MAGGIE. Father, you are not in the "Moonraker's" now.
VICKEY. You should open your eyes to what other