MARRIED LIFE;
A COMEDY,
IN THREE ACTS.
BY
JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE.
PERFORMED AT
THE THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET.
LONDON:
WILLIAM STRANGE, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1834.
G. COWIE, PRINTER
13, NEWCASTLE STREET, STRAND.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The Comedy of "MARRIED LIFE" is _entirely_ original--if the being
unassisted by either anecdote, tale, ballad, biography, or any other
resource constitutes _entire originality_.--Yet, as some of the
couples, especially MR. and MRS. CODDLE, and MR. and MRS. DOVE, have
been "_sketched from the life_," the important question of originality
is still open to much disquisition.
TO WILLIAM FARREN, ESQ.
MY DEAR SIR,
Allow me to dedicate this Comedy to you, as some little token of my
very great admiration of your talents. It is a very common cant to
allow of no existing excellence, and refer only to the past for
instances of genius! In Dramatic matters, this cant has been
particularly cherished; but, with reference to yourself, it may be
presumed that were a playgoer of Cibber's time now in existence, he
would be puzzled, with all his fond recollections, to name few, if
any, by-gone _artistes_ who could have borne away one feather from
your well-filled cap of fame. And truly the actor of the UNCLES FOOZLE
and JOHN--of the Lawyers GROTIUS and FLAM--of the wily STEWARD--of the
cold and crafty Diplomatist, COUNT BERTRAND--of the physically cold
SAMUEL CODDLE--the excellent and kind-hearted MICHEL PERRIN--of the
warlike CHARLES THE TWELFTH--of SIR PETER and OGLEBY--and fifty other
triumphant assumptions, must possess a feathered coronet of no
ordinary dimensions. With a hundred thanks for your great attention to
every humble effort of mine, in which you have been concerned, and for
the anxiety that you have always shewn for my success, permit me to
wish you many years of health and strength, that the stage may long be
enabled to name you with pride and pleasure as one of its greatest
ornaments.
Yours very truly,
JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE.
_August_ 25, 1834.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Mr. _Samuel Coddle_ Mr. W. FARREN.
Mrs. _Samuel Coddle_ Mrs. GLOVER.
Mr. _Lionel Lynx_ Mr. VINING.
Mrs. _Lionel Lynx_ Mrs. FAUCIT.
Mr. _Henry Dove_ Mr. BUCKSTONE.
Mrs. _Henry Dove_ Mrs. W. CLIFFORD.
Mr. _Frederick Younghusband_ Mr. BRINDAL.
Mrs. _Frederick Younghusband_ Mrs. HUMBY.
Mr. _George Dismal_ Mr. STRICKLAND.
Mrs. _George Dismal_ Mrs. TAYLEURE.
This comedy was first produced on the 20th of August, 1834.
MARRIED LIFE.
ACT I.--SCENE I.
_An apartment at the house of MR. LYNX; A fire place on the
L. H. S. E. before which LYNX is discovered in his morning gown,
reading a newspaper. A table near him, with breakfast service on it;
MRS. LYNX at a small table on R. H., in the sulks; a practicable
window to throw up R. H._
LYNX. (_Reading._)--"BOW STREET.--_Matrimonial Squabble_--The chief
magistrate was occupied all the morning, investigating a case of
assault, arising out of a matrimonial squabble. It appears that the
wife of the complainant is a woman of violent passions, and so
excessively jealous, that her husband's life is endangered." Do you
hear that, my dear? you are not singular in your temper, you see.
MRS. LY. Indeed!
LYNX. There are other women in the world, excessively jealous, beside
yourself.
MRS. LY. You think so, do you?
LYNX. Shall I read the whole of the police report?
MRS. LY. You may do just as you please.
LYNX. Don't you feel interested in the case? Have you no sympathy with
the poor woman?
MRS. LY. You have taken good care to destroy all my sympathies;
indeed, almost every feeling and quality that I once possessed.
LYNX. Save one, my dear.
MRS. LY. Well, sir, what is that one?
LYNX. The quality of making yourself extremely disagreeable--why don't
you take breakfast?
MRS. LY. I don't want any.
LYNX. You did not sup last night?
MRS. LY. I did not require it.
LYNX. You eat nothing at dinner yesterday?
MRS. LY. I had no appetite.
LYNX. You'll starve yourself, love, and die!
MRS. LY. Then you will be happy.
LYNX. I shall certainly lead a quieter life----
MRS. LY. And have more opportunities for carrying on your intrigues.
LYNX. What intrigues, dear?
MRS. LY. Those are best known to yourself.
LYNX. I thought you were perfectly acquainted with them.
MRS. LY. I am acquainted with a sufficiency, believe me.
LYNX. Name them, my dear?
MRS. LY. I shall not trouble myself so much.
LYNX. Nay, I insist----
MRS. LY. Well, then, sir--my dress-maker could not call yesterday, but
you must make yourself ridiculous.
LYNX. What did I do?
MRS. LY. You told her, in my presence, that she was very pretty.
LYNX. Was there any sin in that?
MRS. LY. 'Twas not only a very great familiarity on your part,
sir--but a want of respect for me.
LYNX. True--'twas wrong in me to forget that few women can endure to
hear another admired.
MRS. LY. And few men think their wives to be possessed of any superior
charms to the first doll they may meet.
LYNX. Excellent, indeed--my love, we must turn authors; and between
us, publish a book of conjugal aphorisms. However, I plead guilty to
your first charge, and implore your mercy--proceed to the next.
MRS. LY. I think the last time we walked out with Mr. and Mrs. Coddle,
that you might have offered me your arm, and not have left me to the
care of the husband, while you flirted with the wife.
LYNX. What do you call flirting?
MRS. LY. Whispering--laughing--and affecting to have,--or really
having, a quantity of interesting secrets.--Don't ask me for a
definition of the word, Sir--I am not a dictionary.
LYNX. I think you are, my dear--if I may judge by the hard words that
you ever use to me.--Proceed with your charges, I beg--
MRS. LY. I heard of your being in a private box at the theatre two
evenings since--and with some strange female.
LYNX. Your hearing such a report is no evidence of its truth.
MRS. LY. You were not at home on that evening--indeed, I don't know
when you _are_ at home; always out--always running about--calling on
this lady, and meeting that--receiving notes of assignation, and--but
I'll not endure it longer, Mr. Lynx--you may provoke me beyond the
bounds of endurance, and then beware--
LYNX. Of what, dear?
MRS. LY. That is best known to myself.
LYNX. I am grateful for the information (_rising_) and now having
discussed a very conjugal breakfast, I shall prepare for my morning
walk.
MRS. LY. Is it possible that you can have no particular appointment?
Have you had neither pink, nor blue note this morning?
LYNX. No, my love--_Me miserabile dolorous homine_--(_a Two-penny
Postman's knock heard._)
MRS. LY. There's the postman.
LYNX. So I hear.
MRS. LY. A letter for you, no doubt.--I thought it would be strange if
a morning passed without the arrival of some mysterious billet for Mr.
Lynx--(_LYNX makes a movement towards the L. H. entrance, but resumes
his seat_)--Oh, Sir, don't check your impatience--anticipate your
servant, and run to the door, I beg.
LYNX. Certainly, my love--if you wish it.--(_LYNX jumps up and runs
off, L. H._)
MRS. LY. Now, Sir, I think I have you in my snare--'tis my own letter
that has arrived--bearing a fictitious signature, and appointing to
meet him in the park alone;--he will receive it--read it--then what
should he do? What _should_ a good and true husband do under such
circumstances? Show the letter to his wife. Will he do that? If he
does, I will freely forgive--forget--and think all that I have heard
and seen to be delusions and falsehoods;--but if he neither gives it
me, nor alludes to it in any way, I shall then be convinced of his
perfidy, and my course shall be resolved on.
_Re-enter LYNX, singing carelessly_,
"I have pluck'd the fairest flower," &c. &c.
By Jove, I must dress,--'tis near eleven (_looking at his watch_) my
love, I think I shall dine at my club to-day.
MRS. LY. Was the letter that you have just received an invitation to
meet some one there?
LYNX. Oh dear, no.
MRS. LY. Was it from any one that I am acquainted with?
LYNX. No, 'twas merely a note.
MRS. LY. On a matter of business?
LYNX. Yes--yes--mere business.
MRS. LY. Which, of course, you will attend to?
LYNX. Business _must_ be attended to, my dear.
MRS. LY. Especially when the only business of a man is pleasure.
LYNX. Precisely.
MRS. LY. Then you _are_ going out?
LYNX. I am.
MRS. LY. I think on such a very fine morning as this, you might, for
once, take me with you.
LYNX. Certainly, my love, if you wish it.
MRS. LY. Ah! will he take me?--(_aside._)
LYNX. Yet, now I think of it,--I have two or three places to call at,
where I may be detained.
MRS. LY. I can wait for you.
LYNX. That will be so unpleasant: I shall be fidgetty at the thought
of your becoming impatient, and then half the little matters that I
may have to arrange, may escape my memory. You had better name
to-morrow for our walk.
MRS. LY. You _won't_ take me this morning?
LYNX. Not this morning.
MRS. LY. You _will_ go out?
LYNX. I must.
MRS. LY. Very well, Sir.--(_Aside._)--Perfidious man, you will
bitterly repent this treatment of me.--There is some one in the hall.
LYNX. (_Looking off, L. H._)--They're your friends, Mr. and Mrs.
Coddle; they will amuse you during the ten minutes that I require for
dressing. What a strange couple--so oddly assorted; poor Coddle, is
the thinnest, chilliest man in the world. You must shut all your
windows.
MRS. LY. His wife will immediately open them.
LYNX. She, poor thing, is so hot. When he is below freezing point, she
is above fever heat.
MRS. LY. You must allow that they do endeavour to accommodate
themselves to each other's foibles, and not oppose them, and use them
as the means of tormenting, as _some_ people do?
LYNX. We shall see.
_Enter MRS. and MR. CODDLE--CODDLE wrapped up in a great coat, over
which is a spencer--a boa round his throat. A cravat covering his
chin, and a Welch wig on his head. MRS. CODDLE is dressed in thin
white muslin._
CODDLE. Ah, Mrs. Lynx!
MRS. COD. Good morning, my friends.
LYNX. How d'ye do? How d'ye do?
CODDLE.--I'm very cold--ugh (_shuddering._)
LYNX. Quite well, Mrs. Coddle?
MRS. COD. Very well--but so hot. Phew! Pray open your windows and give
me some air.
CODDLE. No, don't, don't--I shall jump out of one of 'em, if you do.
My inhuman wife would drag me from my warm fire-side this morning,
although I told her there was an incipient easterly wind fluttering
about. If it should blow in full force before I get home, I shall die.
MRS. COD. My dear love--'tis nothing but a fine refreshing breeze, and
one that you ought to be very grateful for.
CODDLE. I tell you, it is warmth that I want--warmth.
MRS. COD. And it's air that I want--fine, fresh, blowing, whistling
air.
CODDLE. (_Shuddering._)--Ugh--don't, dear, you chill me to the bone to
hear you.
LYNX. Be seated, I beg.--(_crosses to L. H._)--Excuse me for a few
minutes.
[_Exit LYNX, L. H._
MRS. LY. (_Aside._)--If he does go out, I'll follow him; watch him,
and enjoy his disappointment.
COD. You have a window open somewhere, Mrs. Lynx--pray shut it. I sat
in a draught last week, that so completely fixed my head on my
shoulders, that I could'nt have moved it without turning my whole body
at the same time, had it been to save my life.
MRS. COD. Merely a stiff neck, Mrs. Lynx?
COD. All my wife's fault. I sat for five days in this
attitude--(_Holding his head up stiffly._)--If I wanted to look at any
body on my left, I was obliged to turn my whole body thus. If any one
spoke to me on my right, I could only attend to them by pivotting so.
If I wished to see what was going on behind me, I was obliged to whirl
round like a weathercock at a sudden change in the wind;--but how dy'e
think I did it? How dy'e think I managed my movements?
MRS. LYNX. I really can't guess.
COD. 'Twas the only thing I could hit upon. I sat upon my wife's
music-stool--for five whole days. I ate, drank, lived and twirled upon
a music-stool;--all through sitting in a draught--do shut your
windows, there's a dear.
MRS. COD. You'll suffocate me some day, Coddle--I know you will. You
don't know what a life I lead with him, Mrs. Lynx--five blankets in
July--think o'that.
COD. Highly necessary--we are more liable to take cold in hot weather,
than in any other. I always have four colds, one rheumatism, and two
stiff necks every July.
MRS. COD. What d'ye think he did a week ago, Mrs. Lynx? I had retired
early: in the middle of the night I awoke in such a state of alarm--I
really thought the room beneath us was on fire--the air of my
apartment was so hot, so sultry, that I could not draw my breath. I
gasped for air; What can be the matter, I said to myself? Surely I've
been suddenly transported to the Indies, and there is a thunder-storm
brewing. I rose--I opened the windows--
COD. And almost killed me on the spot; there was a strong north wind
blowing at that moment--enough to wither one.--Imprudent woman.
MRS. COD. 'Twas a fine bracing night breeze--but out of kindness to
Coddle, I immediately closed the windows--Phew. Oh, gracious, had you
but have felt the heat--I fainted away in the easy chair--Coddle rang
the bell--the servants came--and to my horror, we discovered that
Coddle had clandestinely introduced a German stove into the bed-room,
and there it was, red hot. Think what a person of my temperament must
have endured. I've been ill ever since.
COD. Doctor Heavysides recommended it; he said 'twas the only thing
that could save my life, and rescue me from a threatened pulmonary
complaint. I've had a wheezing cough ever since its removal--barbarous
woman!--(_Coughs._)
MRS. COD. You seem dull, Mrs. Lynx.
MRS. LY. I'm not in very good spirits.
MRS. COD. Ah! we poor wives all have our little troubles.
COD. And we poor husbands, too. Mrs. Coddle wont let me wear a
hair-skin comforter--did you ever hear of such cruelty?
MRS. COD. He thinks of nothing but his own personal ease.
COD. I'm obliged; there's no one else thinks of it for me.
MRS. COD. He's the most apathetic creature living--no life, no
passion, no impulse. I _do_ like to see a husband subject to some
little caprices of temper. If Coddle, now, were inclined to
jealousy--and would scold me well--and throw things about--and go into
a fury now and then--I should be the happiest woman in the world; but
he wont--there he sits, from morning till night, as carefully wrapped
up as an Egyptian mummy. I really think he is one; he is--he's King
Cheops. Cheops--(_aside to MRS. LYNX_)--oh, Mrs. Lynx, I'd give the
world to make him jealous. But what is the matter with you, have you
had words with your husband?
MRS. LY. I confess that we have had a trifling disagreement, this
morning.
MRS. COD. How delightful!--Coddle, why don't you go into a passion and
knock me down.
COD. My dear, if I were to go into a passion, and suddenly cool, as I
know I should, the checking of the perspiration would be the death of
me--I should die.
_Re-enter LYNX, dressed for walking._
LYNX. Good morning, my friends; I am going to leave you; don't you
hurry away on my account.
MRS. LY. There's no necessity for that; I shall be alone the whole day.
MRS. COD. (_To MRS. LYNX._)--Ah! you are a happy woman in possessing
such a husband! Look at him, Coddle; observe his manner--his air. Why
don't you dress in that fashion?
COD. Me! as thinly clad as Mr. Lynx is now--would you see me in my
grave? Ugh! I shudder to look at him.
MRS. COD. I'm sorry that you are going out.--(_To LYNX._)--I thought
to have passed a very pleasant morning in your society.
MRS. LY. (_Aside_)--I'm certain there's an understanding between
them.--(_Watching them with suspicion._)
MRS. COD. (_To LYNX_)--A word with you--(_she whispers LYNX, and
laughs_)--Eh? Ha! Ha! Ha! it would be very droll, now--would it not?
LYNX. Ha! Ha! very, indeed.
MRS. COD. I shall endeavour----
LYNX. Do, do--rely upon me. Ha! Ha!
MRS. COD. Ha! Ha! Ha!
LYNX. Adieu, my friends, adieu. Good morning, Mrs. L. If I do not
return by five, you need not expect me till late. Adieu.
[_Exit L. H._
MRS. LY. May I ask, madam, why you whispered my husband?
MRS. COD. A mere matter of pleasantry.
MRS. LY. Indeed!
MRS. COD. He's the most charming creature living, is that husband of
yours. I wish my poor drone was like him.
MRS. LY. I should be sorry to make your husband unhappy, madam--
MRS. COD. Do, do--make him wretched, there's a love--but for once.
MRS. LY. I don't comprehend you, madam--I can only observe, that your
conduct to my husband, a moment since, was as ill-mannered as it
seemed suspicious.
MRS. COD. He's a fine spirited man.--(_Looking at CODDLE, who is busy
wrapping himself closely up._)
MRS. LY. Indeed! pray, madam, what might be the subject of your
whispers?
MRS. COD. I never betray confidence.
MRS. LY. Surely you are not that base woman, who, under the mask of
friendship, seeks to ruin my peace. I have watched your behaviour
before, madam, and I am now convinced there is some secret
correspondence existing between you and my husband; and how Mr. Coddle
can sit there, and affect to be blind to your actions, I am at a loss
to conceive.
COD. Blind--me affect to be blind--what is there to see, madam?
MRS. COD. (_Aside._)--This is delicious;--if Coddle would but listen
to her.
MRS. LY. To see!--quit my house, and from this moment I trust that
neither of you will ever enter it again.
COD. What have we done?
MRS. LY. (_To MRS. CODDLE._)--I look upon you, madam, as a dangerous
woman.
COD. So she is--my night-caps are never thoroughly aired.
MRS. LY. And if your husband can countenance your conduct, I am not so
lost to every sense of self-respect, as to submit to it.
MRS. COD. Bless me, Mrs. Lynx, what do you mean?
COD. (_Coming between them._)--Don't, don't, pray don't excite me; if
you get to words, I must interfere, and any interference, at this
moment, might be fatal.
MRS. LY. I shall not attempt to explain my insinuations--I only desire
that you will leave me to myself, and that your visits here may be
less frequent.
MRS. COD. Don't you stir from this house, Coddle, till you are
perfectly convinced of the baseness of her inuendoes. Be jealous, and
demand an explanation; if you don't, I'll tear the list from all the
doors at home.
MRS. LY. Will you compel me to ring the bell?
MRS. COD. Go into a rage, Mr. Coddle.
COD. I can't;--(_MRS. LYNX throws open a window, R. H._)--my love, we
are in a thorough draught; that woman wants to destroy me. Let us
leave the house, if you wish to see me alive an hour hence. Be
satisfied--I'll call on Mr. Lynx, and demand an explanation.
MRS. COD. But one word more----
COD. No, no, not one. Come, my dear--I've the rheumatics in my right
shoulder, already--I tremble from head to foot--I've taken cold, and
you'll have to nurse me for a month--Come, dear, come.
[_Exit L. H. dragging off MRS. CODDLE._
MRS. LY. (_Falling into a chair._)--Wretched woman that I am--why did
I ever give power to any man so to torment me? I'll now follow him,
and enjoy his disappointment.
MRS. COD. (_Without._)--Don't send up your name at present--the poor
creature is in a rabid state.--(_MRS. YOUNGHUSBAND heard without._)
MRS. Y. Mrs. Lynx won't mind us.
MRS. LY. (_Looking off, L. H._)--Who is this? Mr. and Mrs.
Younghusband! how provoking--just as I'm going out.--What can bring
them here? they are a couple that I can't endure; though married but
three months, they are perpetually contradicting and annoying each
other; if, now, they had suffered the five years of matrimony that I
have--there might be some excuse for them, but to disagree so early in
their career, is sad, indeed.
_Enter MR. and MRS. YOUNGHUSBAND, L. H._
MRS. YOUNGHUSBAND. (_Running to MRS. LYNX, and taking both her
hands._)--How d'ye do, dear? don't mind me and Y. coming in so
unceremoniously--we have called to give you some information.
YOUNGHUSBAND. How can you talk so absurdly, Louisa? we have not called
to give Mrs. Lynx any information.
MRS. Y. For what, then?
YOUNG. Merely to tell her that a person wishes to see her.
MRS. Y. Well, _that_ is information.
YOUNG. No, it isn't.
MRS. Y. Yes, it is.
YOUNG. How can that be?
MRS. Y. To tell any body of any matter is to inform them; and to
inform people, is, of course, to give them information. How you do
contradict me!
MRS. LY. What, then, is the information that you bring me?
MRS. Y. There, you hear, sir; Mrs. Lynx allows it to be information.
YOUNG. It can't be.
MRS. Y. But it is.
YOUNG. It isn't; you have not informed Mrs. Lynx of anything, yet.
MRS. Y. I should have done so, if you had not interrupted and
contradicted me, as you always do.
YOUNG. Allow me to tell Mrs. Lynx--you must know, madam, that some
years ago, my wife was sent to the boarding-school of Mrs. Dove, in
Sussex.
MRS. Y. No, it was in Kent.
YOUNG. In Sussex!
MRS. Y. In Kent, I tell you.
YOUNG. If you aggravate me in this manner, I'll go home again.
MRS. LY. Well--well.
MRS. Y. Last night, at a friend's house, we accidentally met Mr. and
Mrs. Dove--when she informed us that she had given up her school, and
was now in London for the purpose of collecting some old debts, and
amongst the names of the persons that she had to call on, was that of
a Mr. Lynx----
MRS. LY. My husband?
MRS. Y. Your husband.
YOUNG. Louisa, how can you? why will you thus agitate Mrs. Lynx?--you
are not sure the Mr. Lynx, that Mrs. Dove is looking for, is the
husband of our friend--we merely surmised that it was.
MRS. Y. I tell you, I'm certain it is the same.
YOUNG. You are not!
MRS. Y. I am.
YOUNG. It can't be the same.
MRS. Y. It is.
YOUNG. It isn't.
MRS. LYNX. Now, pray, don't trifle with me; think of my dreadful
suspense--think of my feelings at this moment.
MRS. Y. Mrs. Dove is now below, with her husband; shall I ask her to
walk up?--then she can relate this strange circumstance herself.
YOUNG. You ought first to tell Mrs. Lynx, who and what the people are,
before you introduce them to her.
MRS. Y. There is no necessity for it.
YOUNG. There is.
MRS. Y. There isn't.
YOUNG. I tell you, there is.
MRS. LYNX. Yes, yes--pray tell me.
MRS. Y. Well, then--Mrs. Dove, you must know, was a widow; and
formerly the mistress of a large boarding school; but has now retired,
after marrying her footman. They are the oddest couple you ever met
with. She is perpetually drilling her husband into politeness and
correct pronunciation, which the poor man will never comprehend as
long as he lives. Oh, had you but seen them last night! whenever a
bell rang, poor Mr. Dove could scarcely help starting from his chair,
and running to attend to it; and could only be checked by the alarming
eyes of Mrs. Dove. Ha! ha!--Oh, those eyes--how they did remind me of
my school-days! just the looks that she used to dart at us, poor
refractory girls.
YOUNG. My dear, why don't you keep to that portion of the narrative,
most interesting to Mrs. Lynx; she don't want to hear of great eyes
and refractory girls.
MRS. Y. I am sure I have mentioned all that is necessary.
YOUNG. You have not.
MRS. Y. I have.
YOUNG. You have not.
MRS. LY. Ask them to walk up, I shall then be satisfied.
MRS. Y. (_Calling._)--Step up, Mrs. Dove, and bring your husband with
you.
YOUNG. There is no necessity for calling up Mr. Dove.
MRS. Y. There is.
YOUNG. There isn't.
MRS. Y. There is.
YOUNG. They are here; don't make a noise.
MRS. Y. 'Twas you that made the noise.
YOUNG. 'Twas not.
MRS. Y. It was.
_Enter MR. and MRS. DOVE._
MRS. Y. Mrs. Lynx--Mr. and Mrs. Dove.--Will you be kind enough to
relate to Mrs. Lynx the purport of your enquiry?
MRS. DOVE. The purport of my enquiry is to ascertain, whether the Mr.
Lynx, that I am informed is residing here, is the identical person
who, two years ago, placed a young lady under my care?
MRS. Y. A young lady! My husband place a young lady under your care?
YOUNG. Nay, madam, before you distress yourself, you had better be
assured that the Mr. Lynx alluded to, _is_ your husband.
MRS. DOVE. The gentleman's Christian cognomen was Lionel.
DOVE. Lionel Lynx, Esquire.
MRS. DOVE. Silence, my dear!
DOVE. That is what was on a trunk he sent to our house; that's all I
know, my precious.
MRS. LY. The name is perfectly correct.
MRS. DOVE. I was told that he had been in the army.
MRS. LY. Right, Madam.
MRS. DOVE. But had sold his commission, and married.
MRS. LY. You are right, Madam--it is the same; there is not the
slightest shadow of a doubt but 'tis the same;--and this person that
he placed with you, what was she?
MRS. DOVE. A young lady of great personal attractions.
MRS. LY. Ha!
DOVE. She played the harp diwinely.
MRS. DOVE. Divinely, dear,--think of your v's.
DOVE. Hang them we's--I shall never get over 'em.
MRS. DOVE. She was placed at my establishment, not so much with a view
to education, as with reference to the meeting with a comfortable and
respectable home at a moderate charge.
DOVE. A hundred a-year, and bring your own silver knife, fork, spoon,
and six towels!
MRS. DOVE. Hush, love, we must forget the school now!
MRS. LY. I never heard of this.--Who could the girl have been? What
was her age?
MRS. DOVE. At that time seventeen.
MRS. LY. Her name?
MRS. DOVE. Harriet Seymour.
MRS. LY. Where is she now?
MRS. DOVE. That question I am quite incompetent to answer--she resided
with me a year and a half--and at the end of that time suddenly
disappeared.
DOVE. We think she eloped, for every now and then somebody used to
come and sing under the windows, to such a degree that all the girls
in the house went raving mad.
MRS. DOVE. Silence, dear.
DOVE. Yes, darling.
MRS. DOVE. At the time of the young lady's disappearance there
remained a small balance in my favour on her account, for extra's, and
of which I think it probable that Mr. Lynx is not aware.
DOVE. Eight pound odd.
MRS. DOVE. Pounds, dear--speak in the plural.
DOVE. Pounds, love?
MRS. LY. I'm in a maze--bewildered--who can this girl have been? Did
she--did she seem attached to him?
MRS. DOVE. Very.
DOVE. He called once, and I happened to enter the room quite
promiscuously where they was.
MRS. DOVE. Where they were; _I_ was--they _were_.
DOVE. Where they were; and I saw the young lady a dissolving away into
tears upon his shoulder; I was then Mrs. D's. footman!
MRS. DOVE. Henry!
DOVE. Martha!
MRS. DOVE. How often have I told you never to touch--
DOVE. Oh, la! Ah, I forgot.
MRS. LY. 'Twas some victim to his villainy, no doubt. How to discover
the mystery--how to come upon him, when he may be unprepared for
equivocation! I have it--my friends,--(_to MR. and MRS.
YOUNGHUSBAND_)--If you should meet Mr. Lynx, let me implore you not to
breathe a syllable of this matter to him--let me be the first to tell
him. Pray oblige me by dining here to-morrow,--(_To MR. and MRS.
DOVE_)--you shall then be introduced to my husband, and should it
indeed be the person that placed that girl under your care, he cannot
dare to deny it. You, my friends--(_To MR. and MRS. Y._)--will also be
here--nay, I will invite every soul that I am acquainted with, and
publicly expose his villainy.
MRS. DOVE. We will do ourselves that honour.
MRS. LY. To-morrow, at five.
MRS. DOVE. We shall be punctual, Madam.
DOVE. (_Aside to MRS. D._)--You said you'd take me to the Jewological
Gardens.
MRS. DOVE. We must defer it, my dear.--(_Aside to DOVE._)
DOVE. That's the way you always serves me--you never promise to take
me any where, but I am continually disappinted.
MRS. DOVE. Pointed.
DOVE. Pointed. You use me shameful, dear.
MRS. DOVE. Don't be an idiot, love.
DOVE. You're a brute, precious.
MRS. DOVE. Henry.--(_Looking fiercely at him._)
DOVE. Oh them eyes--I never can answer 'em.
MRS. DOVE. Then to-morrow at five, Mrs. Lynx.
MRS. LY. I shall rely on you being here--you will not disappoint me?--
MRS. DOVE. Certainly not. Good morning, Madam.--Now, Henry, your arm.
MRS. LY. The servant shall see you to the door.--(_MRS. LYNX pulls a
bell-rope hanging by the side of the fire-place; a bell rings. DOVE
suddenly starts, and is running confusedly as if to answer it, when
MRS. DOVE checks him._)
MRS. DOVE. My lamb, you forget yourself.
DOVE. Deuce take them bells, I never can hear one without running to
answer it.
MRS. DOVE. Good morning, Mrs. Lynx--Good morning, Madam,--Good
morning, Sir--(_curtseying profoundly to each._)--Now, my dear,
(_aside to DOVE._)--Don't forget to leave the room like a
gentleman.--(_They approach the L. H. door, when they both make a
profound obeisance, and go off. MRS. LYNX falls in a chair, hiding her
face in her hands._)
MRS. Y. My dear Mrs. Lynx, pray don't allow this matter to affect you
so seriously.
YOUNG. Louisa, why do you check the feelings of our friend? you ought
to be aware that tears are a great relief when one is suffering from
mental agitation.
MRS. Y. No, they a'nt; a pretty relief, indeed, to break one's heart
with crying.
YOUNG. It is a relief.
MRS. Y. No it is'nt--how do you know?--you never cry, you harden'd
creature.
YOUNG. I prefer preserving my tears for a certain event.
MRS. Y. Ah, when you lose _me_.
YOUNG. Yes, dear.
MRS. Y. That's the kindest thing you have said since our marriage.
YOUNG. No it an't.
MRS. Y. Yes it is
YOUNG. It an't.
MRS. Y. It is.
MRS. LY. My dear friends--pray cease your bickering.
MRS. YOUNG. He will always contradict me.
MRS. LY. If you meet my husband, pray be silent on this matter, and be
here to-morrow, I beg; and should I be compelled to take a desperate
resource to conquer the feelings that now consume me, you will know
how to pity and to pardon me.--(_she sinks into a chair._)
MRS. Y. Come, Frederick, we'll soon leave poor Mrs. Lynx; people don't
like to have their sorrows intruded upon.
YOUNG. We ought rather to stay and console her.
MRS. Y. A charming consoler you are--how did you console me yesterday,
when that frightful bonnet was sent home?
YOUNG. 'Twas your own taste.
MRS. Y. It was not.
YOUNG. You insisted on having a fall of blond in the front of it.
MRS. Y. That is the thing I detest.
YOUNG. It is the very thing that you ordered.
MRS. Y. When I tried it on, you told me that I never looked so
frightful in all my life.
YOUNG. I didn't.
MRS. Y. You did--I'll burn it when I go home.
YOUNG. Indeed you shall not.
MRS. Y. I will--and I'll wear my dirty yellow one to vex you.
[_Exit L. H._
YOUNG. Louisa! how can you be so absurd. Louisa, why don't you wait
for me? you're the most aggravating woman I ever met with.
MRS. Y. (_Without._)--I shall go home alone.
YOUNG. You shall not--(_rushing out L. H._)
MRS. Y. I will--(_without._)
YOUNG. You shall not--(_without._)
MRS. Y. I will.
YOUNG. You shall not.
MRS. Y. I hate you.
YOUNG. You don't.
MRS. Y. I do.
YOUNG. You don't.
MRS. Y. I do.
(_The voices of MR. and MRS. Y. are heard contradicting each other,
till they gradually cease._)
MRS. LY. I surely never felt the passion of jealousy till this moment;
all my past suspicions have been mere faults of temper, compared with
the restlessness, the wretched thoughts, and sinking of the heart,
that I now endure. Who can this girl be? Where is she now? _He_ knows
full well--no doubt he visits her--may at this moment be in her
society. I'll leave the house--him--all--for this agony is more than I
can bear--(_she is rushing out L. H. when LYNX appears._)
LYNX. Where are you going in such haste?
MRS. LY. (_Controlling her feelings._)--So soon returned.
LYNX. I had forgotten my purse--(_going to desk, on a table up the
stage._)
MRS. LY. I hope you have been gratified by your walk?
LYNX. Yes, perfectly.
MRS. LY. Of course you were not so much annoyed at your
disappointment, but you sought amends in some more certain amusement?
LYNX. Yes, dear--I returned to you.
MRS. LY. You little thought that your note of assignation--your note
of "mere business," was written by me.
LYNX. It was, eh? And pray, what end has the paltry trick answered?
MRS. LY. Your immediate attention to it, has convinced me of your
perfidy.
LYNX. Indeed! Could you think of no better plan to convict
me?--(_Taking a chair._)
MRS. LY. I have little occasion to tax my invention further, Sir; I
now feel quite assured of my misery.
LYNX. Of what misery?
MRS. LY. The possession of a husband, who practices
concealment.--(_Aside_)--I did not intend to breathe a syllable of
what I have heard; but I cannot resist. I must tell him--perhaps he
may be guiltless. Lionel! is the name of Harriet Seymour known to you?
LYNX. (_Starting from his seat_)--Who has dared to utter that name to
you? who has dared to breathe a word of that person?
MRS. LY. Ha! now I am, indeed, firmly--wretchedly convinced. What,
Sir! your agitation leaves you defenceless?--Where are your arts--your
falsehoods--your equivocations, now?
LYNX. Who has been here?
MRS. LY. I shall not name.
LYNX. By heaven, you shall.--(_Seizing her arm._)
MRS. LY. Hold, Sir! would you use violence? Would you conceal your
shame, by rage? Listen to me! Ere I quite decide upon my course, I
will give you one opportunity of justifying yourself--one chance of a
full and fair explanation. Promise me to be at home to-morrow,--I will
not, in the mean time, allude to this matter, by a single word; no,
no--till then I will conquer my feelings and be silent. I shall be
sorry to proceed in the revenge that I contemplate; but should I have
cause--remember, 'twas your own hand that cast down the fire-brand
here; and if I do take it up, and set the home of our happiness in
flames, you alone are to blame.
[_Exit, R. H._
LYNX. What can she mean? Does she threaten me with retaliation? Who
can have been here--through what channel can she have heard? But I
must avoid all explanation; I dare not reveal aught connected with
that unhappy girl.
_Enter CODDLE, L. H._
COD. Excuse my coming in so unceremoniously--I knew you were here--I
saw you come home--merely called to oblige Mrs. Coddle. There's that
window still open; permit me to shut it.--(_He crosses to R. H., and
pulls down the window._)--Mrs. Lynx has hinted to my wife that a
familiarity exists between you and her, and one that I ought not to
shut my eyes to; now, I candidly confess that I have opened them as
wide as I can, and what Mrs. Lynx can possibly see I am at a loss to
guess. But entirely to oblige my wife, I call here, at the risk of my
life--as I did not intend coming out any more to-day--to ask if such a
familiarity really exists? Mrs. Coddle demands it, for my own
satisfaction. If I am not satisfied, she insists on my fighting you;
and if I am, she is determined to make Mrs. Lynx beg her pardon. Now,
what is to be done?
LYNX. My dear Sir, you well know the temper of my wife, and the pains
that she takes to make herself wretched. Be assured that her
suspicions are groundless.
COD. I know they are; and I am convinced it has all originated in my
wife's anxiety to excite me.
LYNX. A word with you;--(_bringing CODDLE forward_)--I left you here
when I went out this morning--did any one call during your stay?
COD. No one but Mr. and Mrs. Younghusband.
LYNX. (_Aside._)--Surely they can't have heard--no--no--yet they may.
Ha, a thought strikes me. Sir, you have more than professed a
friendship for me?
COD. And have proved it, too. Didn't I visit you every week, when you
lodged in that airy situation at Hampstead?
LYNX. My wife has, by some means, yet unknown to myself, discovered my
connexion with a young female.
COD. Oh you villain--why don't you wear a Welsh wig? you would escape
all these troubles, then?
LYNX. I am compelled to avoid all explanation respecting her.
COD. Well?
LYNX. 'Tis in your power to relieve me from my embarrassment.
COD. In what way?
LYNX. This young female, I, some time since, placed at a country
school for protection----
COD. You rogue!
LYNX. She disappeared, and all trace of her had been lost.
COD. Well?
LYNX. My wife has this moment mentioned her name----
COD. Then, of course, she has discovered your trick?
LYNX. You must publicly declare this girl to be your own.
COD. What?
LYNX. Your own daughter, and that to save your secret, I undertook her
charge.
COD. Bless you--what would Mrs. Coddle say? My dear boy she'd murder
me. I could not support such an assertion for the world--how could I
ever look in my wife's face afterwards?
LYNX. With more confidence than were she to know----
COD. What? (_LYNX whispers CODDLE, who staggers back to a chair in
great alarm._)--I'm a dead man!
LYNX. I know more than you thought, Mr. Coddle.--Now, Sir, you see the
plot is not one of such very great difficulty to execute. If you will
not assist me, I must proclaim--
COD. Not a word, on your life--plunge me into a cold bath, make me
sleep a whole night on the top of the Monument--compel me to do any
thing for which I have a horror--but breathe not a word of _that_--of
_that_--
LYNX. Do, then, as I request you.
COD. I will--I swear it--there--(_falls on both his knees._)
LYNX. Save _my_ secret, and I will preserve _yours_.
END OF ACT I.