Act III The scene is that of the inside of the cottage.  The old woman is no where to be seen, and Sophia lays on the bed with a damp rag on her forehead.  Y. Laura is sitting on a stool by the bed looking over Sophia. Sophia:  Do not be frightened dearest Laura, I have only a violent pain in my delicate limbs, accompanied with a disagreeable Head-ake.  It is nothing but a cold caught by my continued faintings in the open air as the Dew was falling the Evening before. Y. Laura:  This, I only fear, is too probably the case.  How otherwise could it be accounted for my escaping the same indisposition? Sophia:  Your repeated fits of frenzy. Y. Laura:  How true!  The bodily exertions I underwent effectually circulated and warmed my Blood as to make me proof against the chilling Damp of Night, whereas you, lying totally inactive on the Ground, must have been exposed to all their Severity. Sophia sighs and touches her head. Y. Laura:  A certain instinctive Sensibility whispers to me, Sophia.  Do not attempt to hide it from me, though you play at this disease as though it is but a trifle. Sophia moans pitifully. Y. Laura:  My fears are but too fully justified. Sophia moans again, louder and more dramatically.  Y. Laura takes Sophia’s hand and begins to weep over her friend.  Y. Laura’s wails become louder. Y. Laura:  My Dearest!  Show a turn of good health for pity’s sake.  Leave me not alone in this wretched world, where so few understand Love. Sophia clears her throat and forces herself to sit upright. Sophia:  My beloved Laura take warning from my unhappy End and avoid the imprudent conduct which has occasioned it… Beware of fainting-fits… Though at the time they may be refreshing and agreeable, yet believe me they will in the end, if too often repeated and at improper seasons, prove destruction to your Constitution… My fate will teach you this… I die a Martyr to my grief for the loss of Augustus… One fatal swoon has cost me my Life… Beware of swoons, Dear Laura… A frenzy fit is not one quarter so pernicious; it is an exercise to the Body and if not too violent, is, I dare say, conducive to Health in its consequences-Run mad as often as you choose; but do not faint- Sophia collapses her arm hanging off the edge of the bed.  Y. Laura puts her hand to her mouth, and then picks up the lifeless hand of Sophia, and then lets it drop.  She stands up and rushes out of the room off the stage.  The old woman comes in as the lights are dimming and she looks at the body, entirely befuddled. The scene changes to a stage coach with a number of inhabitants, but the lights are very slowly coming up to the sound of hoof beats.  It is impossible to tell who is in the coach for quite awhile, and Y. Laura eagerly gazes at each person alternately.  One member of the group is loudly snoring. Y. Laura (speaking quietly to the person next to her): What an illiterate villain must that Man be!  What a total want of refinement must he have, who can thus shock our senses by such a brutal Noise!  He must, I am certain, be capable of every bad action!  There is no crime too black for such a Character! The person seated next to her nods.  The lights finally come up.  The people in the coach are Sir Edward, Augusta, Isabel, and Lady Dorthea.  Driving the coach is the Husband of Phillipa and Phillipa.  Behind in the basket are Philander and Gustavus.  Y. Laura sees them all in turn accompanied by an “Oh!” Y. Laura:  Oh!  Heavens, is it possible that I should so unexpectedly be surrounded by my nearest Relations and Connections? Every eye turns on Y. Laura. Y. Laura (throwing herself across Lady Dorthea into the arms of Isabel):  Oh!  My Isabel, receive me once more to your Bosom the unfortunate Laura.  Alas!  When we last parted in the Vale of Usk, I was happy in being united to the best of Edwards; I had then a Father and a Mother, and had never known misfortunes-But now, deprived of every friend but you- Augusta:  What! Is my brother dead, then?  Tell us, I entreat you, what is become of him? Y. Laura:  Yes, cold and insensible Nymph, that luckless Swain your brother, is no more, and you may now glory in being the heiress of Sir Edward’s fortune. The lights go out on their stunned faces.  The scene changes to O. Laura at her writing desk, and Y. Laura sitting on a coach with a few other chairs visible (others should be off stage).  Sir Edward and Augusta enter facing the audience looking forlorn. O. Laura:  They were greatly shocked-even the obdurate Heart of Sir Edward and the insensible one of Augusta, were touched with Sorrow by the unhappy tale. They sit down in the chairs by her, and Isabel enters. Isabel (with a look of pity and surprise addressing Y. Laura):  Do not believe me in anyway doubtful of the terrible things you have undergone, but I do believe there may be some cause for reproach in your behavior- Y. Laura:  Yes, yes, I cannot agree, but sit with us and all will be forgotten, you are my dearest friend after all. She pats the sofa, and Isabel sits down. Y. Laura:  I must depend on you Augusta for a faithful account of what has happened since our separation. Augusta: Well, since I have a considerable taste for the Beauties of Nature, my curiosity to behold the delightful scenes it exhibits in that part of the world had been so much raised by Gilpin’s Tour to the Highlands, that I prevailed on my Father to undertake a Tour to Scotland and persuaded Lady Dorthea to accompany us.  Lady Dorthea enters and at Y. Laura’s silent request pulls up a chair from off stage.  I suppose we arrived at Edinburgh a few Days ago, and from thence we made daily Excursions into the Country around in the Stage Coach we were in, from one of which Excursions we were at that time returning, when you joined us. Y. Laura:  And what of Phillipa? Lady Dorthea: Her husband having spent all her fortune, except her Coach, has converted it into the very Stage we were from thus conveyed.  And in order to be removed from any of his former Acquaintance, he drove it to Edinburgh, from whence he drives it to Sterling every other Day.  As impossible as it seems, Phillipa still retains her affection for her ungrateful husband, and has followed him to Scotland, and generally accompanies him on his excursions to Sterling. Augusta: It has only been to throw a little money into their pockets that my father has always traveled in their Coach to view the beauties of the Country since our arrival in Scotland-for it would be much more agreeable for us to visit the Highlands in a Postchaise, than merely to travel from Edinburgh to Sterling to Edinburgh every other Day in a crowded and uncomfortable Stage. Y. Laura:  A woman so foolish as to marry a man so young, should be punished as thus. Gustavus and Philander enter looking sheepishly at Y. Laura. Y. Laura:  Cousins, be at ease.  We have nothing ill between us.  Come and Join us. A servant enters and puts a tray of goodies on the coffee table of which everyone takes.  Gustavus and Philander bring some chairs up to  the sofa. Y. Laura:  Please, inform me of everything that has befallen you during the course of your lives, as I know barely anything of my good cousins, of whom are my closest relations. Gustavus:  As you wish, for to you we are forever indebted. Y. Laura:  Speak not of that, I am sure there were Hardships which led you to such acts. Gustavus (taking a breath as if for a long narration): We are the sons, as you know, of the two youngest Daughters which Lord St. Clair had by Laurina, an Italian opera girl.  Our mothers could neither of them exactly ascertain who were our Fathers, though it is generally believed that Philander (gesture towards Philander, and take a bite of food) is the son of one Philip Jones, a Bricklayer, and that my Father was Gregory Staves, a Staymaker of Edinburgh.  This is, our Blood, which is of the most ancient and unpolluted kind.  Bertha (the mother of Philander) and Agatha (my own Mother) always lived together.  They were neither of them very rich; their united fortunes had originally amounted to nine thousand Pounds, but as they had always lived on the principle of it, when we were fifteen it was diminished to nine Hundred.  Gustavus stands up and begins to stroll around the room.  This nine Hundred, they always kept in a Drawer in one of the Tables (gesture to the drawer in O. Laura’s desk) which stood in our common sitting Parlor, for the convenience of having it always at Hand.  Whether it was from this circumstance, of its being easily taken, or from a wish of being independent, or from an excess of Sensibility (for which we were always remarkable), I cannot determine, but certain it is that when we had reached our 15th year, (come over to Philander and put one hand on his shoulder) we took the Nine Hundred Pounds and ran away.  Having obtained this prize, we were determined to manage it with economy and not spend it either with folly or Extravagance.  Begin to stroll around again.  To this purpose, we therefore divided it into nine parcels, (counting on fingers) one of which we devoted to Victuals, the 2nd to Drink, the 3rd to Housekeeping, the 4th to Carriages, the 5th to Horses, the 6th to Servants, the 7th to Amusements the 8th to Clothes and the 9th to Silver Buckles.  Having thus arranged our Expenses for two months (for we expected to make the Nine Hundred Pounds last as long), we hastened to London, and had the good luck to spend it in 7 weeks and a Day, which was 6 Days sooner than we had intended.  As soon as we had thus happily disencumbered ourselves from the weight of so much Money, we began to think of returning to our Mothers, but accidentally hearing that they both starved to Death, we gave over the design and determined to engage ourselves to some strolling Company of Players, as we had always a turn for the Stage.  Accordingly we offered our Services to one and were accepted; our Company was indeed rather small, as it consisted only of the Manager, his wife, and ourselves, but there were fewer to pay and the only inconvenience attending it was the Scarcity of Plays which, for want of People to fill the Characters, we could perform.  We did not mind trifles, however-One of our most admired Performances was Macbeth, in which we were truly great.  The Manager always played Banqou himself, his Wife my Lady Macbeth.  I did the Three Witches, and Philander acted all the rest.  (Gestures for Philander to stand, which he does to the sound of the applause of the party.  Philander bows and sits.)  To say the truth, this tragedy was not only the Best, but the only Play we ever performed; and after having acted it all over England and Wales, we came to Scotland to exhibit to the remainder of Great Britain.  We happened to be quartered in that very Town, where you came and met your Grandfather-We were in the Inn-yard when his carriage entered and perceiving by the Arms to whom it belonged, and knowing that Lord St. Clair was our Grandfather, we agreed to endeavor to get something from him by discovering the Relationship-You know how well it succeeded.  Kisses Y. Laura’s hand in apology.  Having obtained the two Hundred Pounds, we instantly left the Town, leaving our Manager and his Wife to act Macbeth by themselves, and took the road to Sterling, where we spent our little fortune with great éclat.  We are now returning to Edinburgh (sitting back down) in order to get some preferment in the Acting way; and such, my Dear Cousin, is our History. Y. Laura:  You are so an amiable Youth for having thus entertained us with your Narration. Philander:  And thank you, Gustavus, for my half of the tale. Gustavus:  I only hope that it shed a fair light on the both of us. Philander:  Yes, well done. Gustavus:  And I suppose, we will now take to acting again. Y. Laura:  Let me express my Wishes for your Welfare and Happiness. Sir Edward: Excuse me, but, Laura, I’m afraid I have some things to discuss with you. Philander:  We are going to break up the party I’m afraid, so if you’ll excuse us. Philander and Gustavus stand up and bow, leaving the stage. Sir Edward: If I may begin. Y. Laura:  No, you may not, it is late, and no one wants to discuss such things.  Besides, it is time for the conclusion. Everyone:  Oh, yes…of course…Goodnight…Thank you…We must talk…Tomorrow Dear. The lights go out as everyone leaves the stage except for O. Laura, whom a light remains on. O. Laura:  I shall try and summarize the ugly dealings of Money of which Sir Edward was so eager to speak.  (Enter Sir Edward.)  When we arrived in Edinburgh Sir Edward told me that as the Widow of his Son, he desired I would accept from his Hands of four Hundred a year.  I graciously promised that I would, but could not help observing that the unsympathetic Baronet offered it more on account of my being the Widow of Edward than in being the refined and amiable Laura. Sir Edward bows and exists. O. Laura:  I took up my residence in a Romantic Village in the Highlands of Scotland where I have ever since continued, and where I can, uninterrupted by unmeaning Visits, indulge in a melancholy solitude my unceasing Lamentation for the Death of my Father, my Mother, my Husband, and my Friend.  Augusta (enter Augusta) has been for several years united to Graham (enter Graham), the Man of all others most suited to her; she became acquainted with him during her stay in Scotland. Graham and Augusta bow and exist. O. Laura:  Sir Edward (enter Sir Edward) in hopes of gaining an Heir to his Title and Estates, at the same time married Lady Dorthea (enter Lady Dorthea with baby in arms)-His wishes have been answered. They bow and Lady Dorthea shows the baby to the audience before they exit. O. Laura:  Philander and Gustavus (they enter in comical hats), after having raised their reputation by their Performances in the Theatrical Line at Edinburgh, removed to Covent Garden, where they still Exhibit under the assumed names of Lewis and Quick. They take a number of very dramatic bows and then exit. O. Laura:  I almost hesitate…Phillipa (she slowly comes on the stage dragging her Husband) has long paid the Debt of Nature; Her Husband, however, still continues to drive the Stage-Coach from Edinburgh to Sterling. They exit without bowing. O. Laura:  Therefore, Adieu, my Dearest Marianne. Laura…Finis! The lights go out. The End
		Dedication Love and Freindship (which is usually cited in Jane Austen’s original spelling) first appeared as: LOVE AND FREINDSHIP A novel in a series of  Letters “Deceived in Freindship and Betrayed in Love.” To Madame la Comtesse DE FEUILLIDE this Novel is inscribed by her obliged Humble Servant The Author
			Firstly, Jane’s early juvenilia always took the form of short epistolary novels, so this work is well patterned and thought out, written when she was 14 and a half.  Madame la Comtesse De Feuillide, or Eliza, to whom the work is dedicated was a decided French flirt and a friend of the Austens (she later married Henry Austen, one of Jane’s brothers, after her previous aristocrat husband was guillotined in France,) who’s “effervescent humour” (Honan) would appreciate Jane’s novel.  This novel would have appealed to the entire Austen family, because it was “a fine, politically reactionary spoof, but in raising the problem of depicting lifelike emotion it virtually ended Jane’s burlesque-writing.” (Honan)  So this is slightly awkward to begin with, but some of the scenes are so amusing that I couldn’t resist creating a play.  I hope it isn’t terribly out of line: James, Henry, and Jane Austen, and Eliza all performed their collective works for the Austen family.  I certainly didn’t attempt to improve; I only tried not to destroy.  I am the first to admit that it jumps around, etc., but hopefully it is still enjoyable. I only added dialog where it was lacking, and I didn’t change any existing dialog, because I think it is priceless. While I think these girls are very silly and “too preoccupied with indulging their emotions to take any effective action (against misfortune),” (Jane Austen’s Writings) Isabel puts up with a great deal of silliness from Laura to remain her friend, and I think we have been very lucky to be so very silly and come away with a good deal of friends (no matter what any one thinks!) -- Jenny, you are my Isabel, or more meaningful yet, my Cassandra - Cassandra once said of Jane “(she was) a treasure, such a Sister, such a friend as never can have been surpassed.”  So, to you I dedicate this little mess, and I hope you find some merriment in it: I couldn’t think of anything more personal or appropriate.  Always remember my friend “a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife” (Pride and Prejudice) and that even Jane believes that Mary Queen of Scots was “entirely innocent” and referred to Elizabeth as “the Murderess of her Cousin” and “the deceitful Betrayer.” (The History of England)         Love you,          Elizabeth