JACK--"Well, he's been married three times--once for love, once for
money and the last time for a home."
Matrimony is the root of all evil.
One day Mary, the charwoman, reported for service with a black eye.
"Why, Mary," said her sympathetic mistress, "what a bad eye you have!"
"Yes'm."
"Well, there's one consolation. It might have been worse."
"Yes'm."
"You might have had both of them hurt."
"Yes'm. Or worse'n that: I might not ha' been married at all."
A wife placed upon her husband's tombstone: "He had been married forty
years and was prepared to die."
"I can take a hundred words a minute," said the stenographer.
"I often take more than that," said the prospective employer; "but then
I have to, I'm married."
A man and his wife were airing their troubles on the sidewalk one
Saturday evening when a good Samaritan intervened.
"See here, my man," he protested, "this sort of thing won't do."
"What business is it of yours, I'd like to know," snarled the man,
turning from his wife.
"It's only my business in so far as I can be of help in settling this
dispute," answered the Samaritan mildly.
"This ain't no dispute," growled the man.
"No dispute! But, my dear friend--"
"I tell you it ain't no dispute," insisted the man. "She"--jerking his
thumb toward the woman--"thinks she ain't goin to get my week's wages,
and I know darn well she ain't. Where's the dispute in that?"
HIS BETTER HALF--"I think it's time we got Lizzie married and settled
down, Alfred. She will be twenty-eight next week you know."
HER LESSER HALF--"Oh, don't hurry, my dear. Better wait till the right
sort of man comes along."