MRS. SWEET. So happy as we always lived together, till we came down
here. You'll repent of this behaviour before long, depend upon it. I
see how it is--you want to make me your slave--the mere echo of your
own lordly will. Very well, sir--I submit; henceforward, you shall
find me the most submissive of wives--every wish shall be acquiesced
in--every command obeyed: but--(_sobbing_)--I--I shall never--never
love you any more! (_crossing, L., SWEET follows her, entreating, &c.,
down, C._)
SWEET. (_moved by her tears_) But Mrs. Sweet--Fanny--my dear--don't
cry--you _shall_ go to the Opera--I'll go with you--we'll _all_ go to
the Opera!
MRS. SWEET. (_sobbing_) Oh, how unhappy you have made me! (_sobbing_)
I'll go,--go and dress myself, William, and then, perhaps, when you're
left to yourself, you'll be sor--sorry for what you have done!
_Exit, sobbing, through door, L. 1 E._
SWEET. (_wiping his eyes_) I have behaved like a barbarian to her.
_Enter SHORT, door, L. 1 E._
SHORT. Well, did it succeed?
SWEET. (_testily_) No, it didn't.
SHORT. You astonish me.
SWEET. I am ten times more unhappy than I was before. I made her cry,
and I can't bear it.
SHORT. Well, it is rather painful at first, but it will come easier by
and bye.
SWEET. I tell you, then, I feel I have been making a brute of myself,
all through your confounded advice.
SHORT. How, Sweet? What's that you say?
SWEET. Certainly! Haven't you been boasting about your happiness, and
your influence over your wife, ever since you have been down here?
What the devil was that to me? What was it to me whether she
contradicted you or not? _My_ wife _was_ in the habit of contradicting
me, and I was accustomed to it.
SHORT. Come--come!
SWEET. I shan't! I say you have destroyed all my domestic peace!
(_crossing to L._)
SHORT. You misunderstand me, Sweet. Is that the way to talk to a
friend?
SWEET. You are no friend of mine--you're an interfering meddling old
fellow. That has always been your great fault--interfering in what
doesn't concern you! (_sits, L._)
SHORT. Come, I say, that's a little too strong! Weren't you
everlastingly boring me with your complaints--how I did this, and how
I did t'other. Why I was always able to get my own way, when you
couldn't get yours. Well, then, since you're so ungrateful--since you
put me to it--I'll tell you why. Simply because your wife doesn't care
a straw for you!
SWEET. (_rises_) Short!
SHORT. No, not a button, depend upon it.
SWEET. It's false--she does. Give me your reason for saying so.
SHORT. What better proof of it can you have than the fact of you not
being happy with her? You see how happy I am with mine.
SWEET. Not happy with her! Do you mean seriously to insinuate that I
am not happy with her? Take care what you are doing, Short. Don't try
to disenchant my life with horrible suspicions, but even if it were
so, I shall never win her back to me by violence and quarrelling.
(_sits, L._)
SHORT. Of course not, I never think of quarrelling with my wife, and
as to violence, I hate it--on the contrary, I sometimes show her
little delicate attentions which women know well how to
appreciate--for instance, she is going to the Opera to-night--well,
what do I do? Why I send up to Covent Garden market, and buy her a
bouquet. Billington was going to buy some for himself, and I entrusted
him with the commission. (_SWEET rises and runs, C._) Where are you
going?
SWEET. To buy something for my wife.
SHORT. Buy something--what?
SWEET. I don't know--anything--half a dozen things--everything I can
find.
SHORT. Stay, stay!
SWEET. Don't hinder me! Let's see, have I any money--yes, all right!
I'll tell them to send in their whole stock for selection--the first
shop I come to.
SHORT. (_detaining him_) Sweet, don't be a fool--the first shop you
come to's a pork butcher's!
_Enter MARIA, L. C., with the book of the fashions._
SWEET. Well, what do you want?
MARIA. I beg your pardon, sir, I though my mistress was here.
SWEET. She's in Mrs. Short's room. What's that? (_pointing to the
book_)
MARIA. The fashion book, sir.
SWEET. A capital thought. Give it to me.
MARIA. My mistress told me most particularly, sir, not to give it to
any one but her.
SWEET. Never mind; I'll take it to her myself. (_MARIA gives the
book_) There, that will do. I'll see to it.
MARIA. Thank you, sir.
_Exit door, L. 2 E._
SWEET. I am glad I've got hold of this first; perhaps I shall be able
to find something she might take a fancy to. I know her taste. (_opens
the book_)
SHORT. (_aside_) He'll never get on with his wife; he has no tact--not
the slightest. (_observing SWEET_) Good gracious! Sweet, what's the
matter? don't you feel well?
SWEET. What's this?
SHORT. What is it? Why you see what it is; the book of the fashions.
SWEET. (L.) What can it mean?
SHORT. (_R.--looking into the book_) A note!
SWEET. Written in pencil! without address or signature!
SHORT. (_feeling for his spectacles_) Where are my spectacles?
SWEET. Why am I afraid to read it? Why do I tremble from head to foot?
I am in a cold perspiration! Short!
SHORT. Written in pencil.
SWEET. I have seen the hand somewhere.
SHORT. Whose do you think it is?
SWEET. It strikes me all at once! It's Billington's!
SHORT. Stop an instant, let me go and find my glasses.
SWEET. (_seizing hold of his arm_) Did you mark what the girl said,
that she was to be sure and give the book to nobody but my wife?
SHORT. Yes, I heard her say that.
SWEET. Let me read. (_reads_) "I waited for you all the morning." So
he did!
SHORT. Go on.
SWEET. (_reads_) "I am afraid to ask why you didn't come. It is now
five days since I have seen you; this is cruel, but I implore of you
to give me an interview to-morrow in the lane at the back of the house
at 2 o'clock if it be but for ten minutes. We shall meet this evening,
but I shall have no opportunity of being alone with you. You will not
refuse if you return the feelings that are consuming me."
(_they look at each other, then after a short pause, SWEET falls into
SHORT'S arms_)
SHORT. Take care, you'll have me down! Bear it like a man! There, take
this chair; try and recover yourself.
(_he supports him to a chair, R._)
SWEET. (_sinking into the chair_) Oh, Short!
SHORT. Never mind, my dear fellow, I'll stand by you. I'm your friend.
SWEET. Oh for some vent to my feelings!--something to tear! (_he
snatches SHORT'S handkerchief from his pocket and tears it_)
SHORT. What the devil are you doing? That's one of my best half-dozen
French cambric. (_gathering up the pieces and putting them into his
pocket_)
SWEET. (_starting up_) Short, are you a good pistol shot?
SHORT. (_staggered by the question_) A good pistol shot? no, I never
fired a pistol in my life.
SWEET. You'll revenge me if I fall? I expect it of you as my friend;
you said you'd stand by me.
SHORT. You don't mean to say you're going to challenge him?
SWEET. What, not after he has seduced my wife's affections?
SHORT. (_aside_) What a lucky thing Louisa never asked him to call.
SWEET. Fight him, yes! across a handkerchief, in my shirt sleeves,
with a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other; you surely don't
mean that you would be likely to take any active steps to prevent the
meeting?
SHORT. Certainly not, if you don't wish it.
SWEET. What you wouldn't for instance, you think, be likely to go
before a magistrate, or anything of that sort?
SHORT. (_laying his hand upon his heart_) You may rely upon my
friendship for not interfering.
SWEET. (_aside_) He can't be in earnest. (_aloud_) Why you are as
bloodthirsty as I am--the traitress! that was why she was so anxious
to see him when he called; that was why she wanted to go the Opera
to-night. But let me seek for some further proof against
her--something to utterly confound her. (_he begins to read the letter
to himself_)
SHORT. (_also trying to read the letter over SWEET'S shoulder_) I
can't see a word without my glasses, what can I have done with them?
Wait a moment, they must be somewhere in the room. (_he goes to the
back of the stage to look for his glasses, and discovers to the
Audience that they are hanging at his back_)
SWEET. (_reading to himself in a low tone, while SHORT is searching
for his spectacles at the back_) Ah! "If you grant my request, carry
the bouquet of violets to-night, which I have taken measures for your
receiving from a safe hand, which can awaken no suspicion."
(_aloud--shouting_) The viper!
SHORT. (_giving up the search, and coming forward_) What have you
found? anything fresh?
SWEET. (_showing him the letter_) Look--read--judge for yourself?
SHORT. (_trying in vain to read the letter_) No, it's no use--confound
it, I can't make out a word.
SWEET. A signal! a signal, Short! think of that! They are actually
carry on a secret correspondence, by means of signals.
SHORT. What signals? Why the devil don't you read the letter?
SWEET. She shall _go_ to-night, _she shall go_, but I'll _watch_ her
like a lynx.
SHORT. Now be prudent; let me intreat of you to do nothing rashly.
SWEET. (_vehemently, putting back the letter into the book_) I'll give
it her with my own hand, and she how she takes it!
SHORT. (_restraining him_) No, no, no; let me beg of you. In your
present state of excitement it would be madness; let _me_ give it to
her, I shall be able to see more than you will, I am cooler--more
collected.
SWEET. Do you think so? Well, perhaps you are right. (_gives SHORT the
book_)
SHORT. Leave me to deal with her alone, Sweet; you are not fit to be
trusted just at present. Go and dress, go to your own room, and
endeavour to calm yourself.
SWEET. Calm myself? Ha, ha! I have a good mind to jump out of the
window! Don't leave me long, or I shall do myself a mischief--I'm in a
state of desperation. (_seizes a knife from the table--SHORT takes it
from him--exit through door, R._)
SHORT. Poor fellow, he's in a pitiable condition; but he has brought
it all upon himself, by over-indulging his wife to that absurd extent
that he has completely ruined his own domestic happiness. It might
have been just the same with me, if I had been fool enough to walk in
his footsteps. I wish I could make out the contents of this letter
though! Stay!
_Enter MRS. SWEET and MRS. SHORT, as he is about to open the book,
door, L. 1 E., in evening dress, both carrying bouquets._
MRS. SWEET. (_looking down at the dress she wears_) The dress looks as
well again so--I am delighted with the alteration.
SHORT. (_aside_) What tranquility in guilt--she's a cool hand!
MRS. SWEET. (_seeing SHORT_) What, not ready yet, Mr. Short? Won't you
be late? Where is my husband?
SHORT. (_with an absurd assumption of dignity_) He is dressing, madam.
MRS. SWEET. (_surprised at his manner_) Well, that is a very singular
manner of telling me so!
SHORT. I am not aware, madam, that there is anything more singular in
my manner than in another's. (_with ridiculous significance, after a
pause_) Allow me to give you this book.
MRS. SWEET. (_taking it quickly_) Oh, here it is at last--thank you!
SHORT. (_aside_) How she betrays herself!
MRS. SWEET. I am afraid, Mr. Short, something has put you out.
SHORT. Possibly something has, madam.
_Exit, door, R._
MRS. SWEET. (_looking after him_) What is the matter with your
husband, Louisa? He appears to be in the high ropes about something.
MRS. SHORT. (_anxiously_) I haven't the smallest idea--he seemed very
strange.
MRS. SWEET. He's an oddity! I could scarcely keep my countenance,
although I am by no means in a merry humour. The gentlemen are
bewitched, I think--_my_ good man in not in a _very_ amiable frame of
mind either. Ah, well, we must leave them alone, and they'll come
round at their leisure, I suppose.
MRS. SHORT. (_anxiously_) What can be the reason, I wonder?
MRS. SWEET. There, now, you're going to torment yourself about that.
Why don't you treat these things as I do? You are always in a state of
adoration of your husband--to his face, too. It is really very absurd
of you, and is quite spoiling him--besides, it is not only bad policy
as far are you are concerned, but it does me a positive injury also.
Here have I had a regular scene with William, and have been indulged
with some charming comparisons in your favour. (_she carelessly opens
the book, and looks at the pictures_) Oh, come, you have succeeded
most admirably with my dress. See--look here--(_comparing the dress
she has on with the one in the book_)--it is exactly as you have done
it.
MRS. SHORT. (_in an absent manner, scarcely looking at it_) Yes, I
see.
MRS. SWEET. (_picking up the note which has fallen out of the book_)
Why, here's a note. Louisa, you are dreaming--see, here's a note.
MRS. SHORT. (_quickly_) A note?
MRS. SWEET. Yes--fallen out of the book. Is it for us, do you think? I
seem to know the hand--to be sure, it is Mr. Billington's.
MRS. SHORT. (_glancing at the writing_) No, no--put it back again--put
it back again into the book.
MRS. SWEET. What for? What a hurry you're in!
MRS. SHORT. (_trying to get hold of the note, which MRS. SWEET holds
from her_) No, my dear Fanny, we have no right to read it; consider,
it may have been sent in mistake!
MRS. SWEET. There appears to be neither address nor signature. Oh,
it's some message about returning the book. (_reads_) "I waited for
you all the morning--I am afraid to ask why you didn't come--It is now
five days since I saw you--this is cruel; but I implore of you to give
me an interview to-morrow in the lane at the back of the house, at two
o'clock, if it be only for ten minutes. We shall meet this evening,
but I shall have no opportunity of being alone with you. You will not
refuse if you return the feelings that are consuming me."
MRS. SHORT. (_interrupting her in great confusion_) Fanny, how can
you! pray put it back again!
MRS. SWEET. (_continuing to read_) "If you grant my request carry the
bouquet of violets to-night, (_she stops and looks at MRS. SHORT'S
bouquet, then goes on_) which I have taken measures for your receiving
from a safe hand which can awaken no suspicion." An extraordinary
epistle! (_to MRS. SHORT, who is in great confusion, and hangs down
her head_) That bouquet!--those conscious blushes! Very pretty, upon
my honour! Louisa, what am I to think of all this?
MRS. SHORT. (_with energy, looking up_) Think of it: why think that I
have been persecuted with the attentions of a coxcomb! whom I have
never encouraged by word or look!
MRS. SWEET. _Persecuted!_ poor martyr!
MRS. SHORT. How could I for an instant imagine that he would presume
to take such a liberty.
MRS. SWEET. Come now, you had better make a clean breast of it--this
has been one of your quiet flirtations.
MRS. SHORT. Flirtations! If the man would persist in his attentions
how could I help it? You know I could not be absolutely rude to him.
MRS. SWEET. (_bantering her, and holding up the letter_) Is this one
of his _attentions?_
MRS. SHORT. No; the most extravagant height of consummate impudence;
and if I were not frightened out of my senses I should go into fits of
laughter.
MRS. SWEET. Come, come, _Mrs. Demure;_ I'll have no more of this--I
shall take the liberty of destroying this delectable note. (_tearing
it to pieces, and putting them into her pocket_)
MRS. SHORT. Don't scold me, for if I have been silly and a little
indiscreet--which mind I don't confess--I have been sufficiently
punished for it, for I haven't had a minute's peace of mind ever since
we have been down here, and, after all, is there no excuse for me--see
how I am treated!--he starts at the sound of a rat, runs away from the
bark of a dog, and couldn't be induced to mount a horse if his life
depended on it, but he is not afraid to coerce and bully a poor
defenceless wife. (_wiping away a tear_) I am sure if my husband would
only be a twentieth part as kind to me as dear Mr. Sweet is to you I
wouldn't give him a moment's vexation for the world.
MRS. SWEET. Nonsense, Loo, it isn't worth a tear, and you know I have
always told you it is all your own fault. You don't go the right way
to work with him. I tell you what it is, my dear, you are too amiable
by half, both at home and _abroad_; but don't alarm yourself, there is
no great harm done, if we can only keep the knowledge of all this
ridiculous nonsense from our husbands; but judging from Mr. Short's
delightful air just now I am not quite sure that that will be
altogether so easy, but mind, ma'am, no more _persecutions_, no more
flirting.
MRS. SHORT. Only help me out of the scrape like a good dear creature,
and if ever I expose myself to anything of the kind again, may I----
MRS. SWEET. (_aside, making a sign to signify that their husbands are
coming_) Don't be seen with that bouquet in your hand. Let us
exchange! Take mine! (_they exchange bouquets_)
MRS. SHORT. (_whispering_) How shall we find an excuse for not going?
MRS. SWEET. (_whispering_) Never mind that now. Don't be
frightened--keep close to me, and if I give you a hint, be sure to
take it.
_Enter SWEET and SHORT, through door, R., in evening dress._
SHORT. (_aside to SWEET_) Be careful now what you say.
SWEET. (_seeing the bouquet in his wife's hands_) There it is, under
my very nose!
SHORT. (_aside_) What?
SWEET. (_aside_) The bouquet!
SHORT. (_looking through his eye glass_) I can't make it out very well
at this distance, but there is nothing extraordinary in her having a
bouquet, so has my wife.
MRS. SWEET. (_affecting an air of gaiety_) Well, you see we are
dressed first.
SWEET. (_struggling to keep down his feelings_) So I perceive.
SHORT. So we perceive, ma'am.
MRS. SWEET. (_aside to MRS. SHORT_) My husband is in the secret, that
is quite clear. (_aloud to SWEET and SHORT_) You are such beaux, you
see, that you have kept us waiting.
SWEET. We must have been a very long time dressing, Short, or else
these ladies must be very impatient to set out.
SHORT. True, Sweet, your remark is obviously correct.
SWEET. (_looking at his wife_) Minutes seems hours when the mind is on
the stretch of expectation.
SHORT. (_aside to SWEET, pulling him by the skirts of his coat_) Ah!
that's all wrong! Take care!
SWEET. We shall be in plenty of time, ladies.
SHORT. (_aside_) That's better--keep to the plural number, it sounds
less particular.
SWEET. We shall not be the last to arrive, I dare say. (_rings the
bell_)
_Enter STEPHEN, L. C._
Is the coach at the door, Stephen?
STEPH. Yes, sir, I was just coming to tell you as you rung.
SWEET. (_aside_) I am suffocating!
MRS. SWEET. (_to SWEET_) My dear, do you still feel disinclined to go?
SWEET. (_shouting_) No; not at all! (_to STEPHEN_) Give me my hat!
(_STEPHEN takes up his hat from the sofa, which he keeps in his hand_)
Not at all! (_aside_) If Stephen, now, would but let my hat fall to
give me an excuse for going into a passion. (_aloud to STEPHEN_) What
are you doing with my hat, sir?
STEPH. Me, sir; nothing, sir.
SWEET. Ah! sir! do you dare to answer me, you scoundrel! Leave the
room, sir, or I'll kick you down stairs!
STEPH. (_aside, putting down the hat_) Master's mad--I wasn't doing
anything with the hat.
_Exit, C. L._
SWEET. Well, why don't we go?
MRS. SWEET. We none of us seem very well inclined to do that.
SWEET. Why not! I never felt more disposed to go out in my life! I am
in extacies at the thought of it: so is Short.
SHORT. (_lugubriously_) Very much so, indeed, Sweet.
SWEET. (_looking at his wife_) Short and I it is true are no great
hands at flirting with the ladies, but we can look on and see _others_
doing so!
SHORT. (_aside--pulling him by the sleeve_) Sweet! Sweet!
SWEET. (_disregarding SHORT, and looking hard at his wife_) Yes,
ma'am, I say we can look on and see _others_ doing so!
SHORT. (_aside_) He'll spoil all. It's impossible to restrain him!
MRS. SWEET. (_aside to her husband, and covertly pointing to SHORT_)
Don't for goodness' sake make matters worse!
SWEET. Make matters worse! Short, ma'am, is in my confidence!
MRS. SWEET. (_aside--perplexed_) I am lost--I can't make it out.
MRS. SHORT. (_aside_) What does he mean?
SWEET. (_to his wife_) It was on _my_ account, doubtless, that you
were so particular about you dress--to please _me!_
MRS. SWEET. Well, yes--don't you like it!
SWEET. And this bouquet: that, too, was to please me, I suppose!
SHORT. (_aside to MRS. SHORT, after crossing behind to L. of her_)
What did you give her my bouquet for?
SWEET. This bouquet! that you have been feasting your eyes on ever
since I have been in the room: that you haven't had a minute out of
your hand! Give it to me! (_snatching it out of her hand_) See how _I_
prize it too! (_he raises his arm, and is about to dash it violently
to the ground_)
SHORT. (_crossing to SWEET, and seizing hold of his arm_) Stop--stop,
I say! What are you about? Don't destroy my wife's bouquet!
SWEET. (_after a pause of amazement_) What's that? _Your_--_your_
wife's bouquet? Do you mean to say that this--this bouquet belongs to
Mrs. Short?
SHORT. To be sure I do? Didn't I bring it all the way from the City on
purpose to make her a present of it?
SWEET. (_aside_) Weugh! (_embraces his wife_) Laugh at me again,
Fanny! Ha, ha, ha! Scold me--snub me--turn me into ridicule. I'll
never contradict you again as long as I live!
MRS. SWEET. (_aside--jogging her husband, and covertly pointing to
SHORT_) Hush--hush! (_to herself_) A light breaks in upon me! (_to
MRS. SHORT_) You are safe--there's some mistake.
SHORT. (_aside--looking towards SWEET_) What's the matter with the
man--has he taken leave of his senses?
SWEET. (_significantly, to MRS. SHORT_) Let me restore this bouquet to
the rightful owner.
MRS. SHORT. (_aside, to MRS. SWEET, taking the bouquet in confusion_)
What am I to say?
MRS. SWEET. (_aside, to MRS. SHORT_) Nothing! Now, _mind!_ (_aloud_)
Louisa, dear? What is it?--she'll faint. Here, Mr. Short, come and
help her. Here, smell these salts! There--there! (_fanning her--MRS.
SHORT sinks fainting into a chair, L._)
MRS. SHORT. (_while MRS. SWEET is fanning her_) Oh, dear--oh!
something has come over me so suddenly--I am afraid I shan't be able
to go to-night.
SHORT. Nonsense, my dear--it will soon pass off.
MRS. SWEET. Go, indeed! Impossible! She is more fit for her bed than
the Opera. (_aside, to MRS. SHORT_) Now, no yielding.
MRS. SHORT. No--I feel it would be quite out of the question.
SHORT. (_authoritatively_) Why, what is the meaning of all this? You
were well enough just now. (_aside, in a threatening tone_) Are you
going to take a leaf out of Mrs. Sweet's book?
MRS. SHORT. (_aloud in a totally changed manner_) My dear?
MRS. SWEET. As Louisa seems so unwell, Willie, and as Mr. Short, of
course, can't possibly leave his wife, suppose we send an excuse--I
know you don't care about going.
SWEET. Just as you please, my dear, whatever you like, I am agreeable
to anything. Come now, I tell you what I propose. (_looks
significantly at MRS. SHORT_) As the place _doesn't appear to agree
with Mrs. Short_, and as I think we have had enough of the Crystal
Palace, I'll stand treat for a month at the sea-side--change of air
will do us all good. What do you say?
SHORT. (_significantly to SWEET_) Yes the sooner we leave the better
(_aside_) for _you._ (_significantly to MRS. SWEET_) What do _you_
say, Mrs. Sweet?
MRS. SWEET. (_pretends to be confused, turns away her head and
smiles--aside_) Amusing!
SWEET. (_significantly to MRS. SHORT_) What do _you_ say, Mrs. Short?
MRS. SHORT. (_forces a laugh, turns away her head and frowns--aside_)
Provoking!
SHORT. (_aside, looking contemptuously at SWEET_) The idea of his
putting up with the affront in this sort of way--Poor Sweet!
SWEET. (_aside, to the Audience_) Capital joke, isn't it? Poor Short!
Do him all the good in the world when he finds it out, won't it?
MRS. SWEET. (_advancing and addressing the Audience with her finger to
her lips_) But keep the secret--don't laugh till the curtain's down.
And if it should so happen--you won't be offended--that there is
anything at all like this going on at home, depend upon it, you might
have done worse than coming to see----