ACT II.—SCENE I.An Apartment in the house ofMR. CODDLE;windows at the back with curtains; the doors are edged with list and leather. Table and chairs; an easy chair in the centre of the stage;MRS. CODDLEdiscovered at the table, a note in her hand.Mrs. Cod.How very odd! how very strange! though this note arrived last night, I have scarcely done anything since but read it.—(Reads.)—“My dear Mrs. Coddle, pray pardon the warmth of my temper that led me to use certain expressions to you, of which, at the time, I was not conscious—though now, on recollection of them, I express my sorrow. Forgive me, and dine with us at five to-morrow, do not dissappoint me on your life, as I have a strong reason for inviting you; bring Coddle with you, of course. Sincerely yours, Emmeline Lynx.” What a strange woman! who would suppose, that yesterday, she desired me to quit the house and never enter there again. Well, I’m resolved to go. What a length of time Coddle takes for dressing; ’tis now half-past four, and I have been ready this hour.—(She knocks atR.H.D.)—Coddle, you drone, make haste.Cod.(Within.)—I shall be ready immediately—I am now putting on my fourth waistcoat.Mrs. Cod.And he wearssix—how the man can exist in such a state, I know not; and what is the matter with him, I am equally at a loss to guess; he has been overpowered with nervous agitation, and in a high fever all the morning—has been talking in his sleep all night. I could only catch the words “Dont,—I’ll say any thing—declare any thing—but don’t;”—the man has something on his mind—what can it be?—He surely can’t have committed any crime—a robbery, nor a murder?—oh, the monster! I must question him.—(EnterCODDLE,R.H.D., dressed for a dinner party.)—Well, my dear, are you better?Cod.Not much—I feel very faint.Mrs. Cod.Give me your hand.—(CODDLEpresents his hand timidly.)—Dear—dear—what a burning fever you are in—your hands are like live coals; and what a pulse.—(Feeling his pulse.)—Heaven’s, Samuel!—you are ill!Cod.I am.Mrs. Cod.And the cause is not so much bodily infirmity as mental anxiety.Cod.Lord!—do you—do you think so?Mrs. Cod.You are fainting—let me open the windows.Cod.No—no—not for worlds.Mrs. Cod.What has caused this fever?Cod.I—I—don’t know.Mrs. Cod.Coddle, your mind is diseased.Cod.My dear, don’t speak to me in that fierce manner, you make me tremble from head to foot.Mrs. Cod.You pass’d a wretched night.Cod.I did.Mrs. Cod.You talk’d in your sleep.Cod.No!—(Alarmed.)—Did I—what did I say?Mrs. Cod.Sufficient to rouse my suspicions.Cod.I have been criminating myself—’twas while I was dreaming of being hanged.—(Aside.)—Whatwillbecome of me?Mrs. Cod.Tell me—what is this matter that has so suddenly disconcerted you?Cod.Ah—she don’t know—I breathe again.Mrs. Cod.Answer me, Sir; what have you done?Cod.I—I—left off my life-preserving under-waistcoat, yesterday.Mrs. Cod.Base equivocator—you shall have no rest, depend upon it, till I am perfectly acquainted with the cause of your agitation. I have watched your actions, Sir, more than you are aware of; ’tis something in which Mr. Lynx is concerned;I observed you, when you returned from his house yesterday, you came home quite an altered man—you that were not to be roused by any thing that did not interfere with your own immediate comfort, seemed suddenly to have changed your nature: the servant left your room door open, unchecked; a broken pane close to your ear escaped your notice—you ate no supper—you ordered no fire in your bed-room—and your sleep was disturbed by sighs and groans, and words of guilt.—Ha!—I have made you tremble—now, Sir, I shall leave you, and in the meantime you will do well to prepare for a confession that I am resolved to wring from you.—(Aside.)—I have shaken him from his lethargy at last.[Exit,L.H.Cod.I am a lost man—I knew my day of reckoning would arrive. Mary suspects something, that’s clear—um!—and I’m going out to dinner too—what a dinner it will be to me; it must be a feast of poison, and a flow of woe—if my secret is preserved, my promise to Lynx must lead to a commotion.—Who can this girl be that I undertake to own? Ha! ha!—now I think of it, I am safe; hedarenot betray me, he is as much inmypower as I am inhis—yet how could he have discovered my unhappy situation? He won’t acknowledge that. No—no; he considers that mystery adds to his strong hold upon me. I have borrowed a book of criminal jurisprudence, from my attorney.—I want to learn the utmost penalty of the law for my offence.—(He takes a book from his pocket and turns over the leaves.)—Here it is—bigamy!—(Reads.)—“If guilty,”—what? “transportation for life.” Oh!—(Falling in a chair.)—Think of my being at Botany Bay—working night and day—summer and winter—in trousers without lining—only a shirt on my back—and a chain round my leg; no umbrella to put up when it rains, no such thing as a yard of Welch flannel within a thousand miles of me, and nothing aired for me—I should die—the first damp night would send me to the tomb of the Coddles—oh!—(Shuddering.)Re-enterMRS. CODDLE,introducingMR.andMRS. DISMAL.Mrs. Cod.Come in, come in; there is nobody here but Coddle.Cod.Ah, Mr. Dismal!—I was thinking of you.Mrs. Cod.Mr. and Mrs. D. have also received an invitation to dine at Lynx’s to-day—and have called, in passing, to know if we were also going.Mrs. Dis.How ill poor Mr. Coddle looks!Dis.What is the matter with him?Mrs. Cod.I’m sure I can’t tell, he keeps the cause of his illness a profound secret.Mrs. Dis.He’s like me—he loves to pine in solitude, and brood over unrevealed sorrows.Dis.You love to be a fool.Mrs. Cod.Our friends are as much surprised at receiving an invitation from Mrs. Lynx as we were.Mrs. Dis.For the last time we called there the poor woman thought proper to be jealous ofme.Dis.There was only that wanting to prove her madness.Mrs. Dis.But she has a cause for her jealousy.Dis.Certainly, when you are present.Mrs. Dis.Didn’t we see him, yesterday, following a young person past our house?Dis.What of that? ’tis a natural impulse to which our sex are peculiarly subject.Mrs. Cod.Except Mr. Coddle—were Venus herself to rise from the sea before him, he’d take to his heels for fear of catching cold from the foam.Mrs. Dis.Tell Mr. Coddle the strange result of our inquiries, respecting Mr. Lynx’s conduct.Dis.Pooh! tell him yourself.Mrs. Dis.The young person that we saw Mr. Lynx following, and striving to speak to, was joined by an elderly lady in black.Cod.Eh! an elderly lady in black—’twas she, he told me she was in black.—(aside.)Mrs. Dis.Of a very masculine appearance—Mr. Lynx seemed to enter into earnest conversation with her; when they parted, the two ladies entered a boarding-house, next door to us; our servant, gossiping with the footman, there ascertained that the elderly lady in black——Cod.Well——Mrs. Dis.Had just arrived from Antigua——Mrs. Cod.Where your property is situated.—(ToCODDLE.)Mrs. Dis.That she had taken lodgings there for a short time, her object being to discover her husband, who had left her in the West Indies, and whose name, strange to say, was——Cod.(Who has started up duringMRS. D’snarrative, and is regarding her with intense curiosity, now falls back into his chair.)—Oh!Mrs. Cod.What’s the matter?—what’s the matter?Dis.He’s fainted——Mrs. Dis.Here, here are my salts.Dis.Open the windows—open the windows.Mrs. Cod.No, no, you will kill him if you do.—(DISMALmakes to the windows, but is checked byMRS. CODDLE; CODDLE,on hearing that the windows are to be opened, is about to start from his chair, but checks himself and resumes his position.)Mrs. Dis.Get him some water—ring the bell.Mrs. Cod.Stay stay, I’ll go myself.—(MRS. CODDLEruns offR.H.F.E. CODDLEsuddenly starts up betweenMR.andMRS. DISMAL,and takes a hand of each.)Cod.As you love me—if you do not wish to see me lifeless at your feet, breathe not a syllable relative to the elderly lady in black—mention not her name.Dis.’Twas your own——Cod.I know it, I know it—’tis a terrible secret; a story of horror and despair; when we are alone, you shall know all—but not a word now. I beg—I implore—I pray—ah, my wife!—(He falls back again into his chair.)Re-enterMRS. CODDLE,with a glass of water.Mrs. Dis.He’s better now.Dis.Much better.Cod.(Affecting to revive.)—Considerably better.Mrs. Cod.I don’t wonder at your fainting, my only surprize is that you can breathe at all, in such an atmosphere; there’s not a breath of air permitted to enter the room. Phew! I’m stifled; excuse me a moment, my friends, I wish to speak to Coddle alone.—(DISMALand his wife are going.)—No, no—don’t leave the room.Cod.(Aside.)—What can she be going to say?Mrs. Cod.Samuel!Cod.My love!Mrs. Cod.Surely your agitation, and your sudden faintness cannot arise from any apprehension?Cod.Of what?Mrs. Cod.That this elderly lady, in black, is——Cod.No, no, no—oh, dear! no, no.Mrs. Cod.You anticipate me—not what?Cod.Not—I don’t know? what were you going to say?Mrs. Cod.I have very strange and very terrible suspicions! ’tis surely no poor creature that you, in the hey-day of your youth——Cod.No, no, no—my dear! How can you think—how can you dream of such a thing? I never had any hey-day—never; don’t think that of me. Come, come—let us go to Lynx’s to dinner. Get ready, dear; get ready.Mrs. Cod.I strongly suspect you.—(MRS. CODDLEgoes up the stage, and throws a shawl on her shoulders.)Cod.What will become of me? If I escape the imputation of bigamy, the subject of that girl will be sufficient to bring my wife’s vengeance on my head; I’ll run and drown myself in a warm bath. I’ll—no, no—I must rouse, I must rouse; Imust summon all my courage—all my fortitude—and bring out what little of the devil I have left in me.Mrs. Cod.Now, Coddle, I’m quite ready.Cod.So am I.—(Putting on his hat.)—Come along, I shall be very gay to-day; you will wonder what possesses me. I shall be so gay; come Mrs. Dismal, take my arm, my dear; ’tis bad taste to walk with one’s wife. D., look to Mrs. Coddle!Mrs. Cod.The man’s mad——Dis.Raving.Cod.You shall see me to advantage, to-day; I feel a new man; you may open all the doors and windows in the house. I’ll do any thing desperate, to-day—walk to Lynx’s, without my coat, hat, any thing—come, my love.—Come Dismal.—Fol de rol, de rol lol.—(CODDLEdances off withMRS. DISMAL,L.H.)Mrs. Cod.Mad!Dismal.Gone, quite gone.[Exeunt following.SCENE II.A Room atLYNX’S.EnterMRS. LYNX,R.H.Mrs. Lynx.The time has almost arrived that will either relieve me from the dreadful suspense that I now endure, or plunge me still deeper into misery; since yesterday I have scarcely uttered a word in his presence; I have religiously adhered to the resolution that I would not touch upon a subject that has so filled me with conflicting emotions; but to-day, in an hour, I shall know the worst; and if hebethe guilty one, that I am madly certain he is, his friends and the world shall know how I have been wronged, and for what purpose I have assembled them here.—(Produces a letter.)—Were it not for tokens like these, I should almost think that I had ceased to charm—had ceased to be looked upon even with interest, bythe meanest of earth’s creatures; here is one that tells me he loves me; my husband once told me so, but then I was younger and had a free heart to give; that now, alas, is gone for ever; here is one who offers me wealth—splendour and affection—if I will forsake a husband that slights me—that torments and maddens me—what shall I do? I have now the means of revenge—of a full and bold revenge. Shall I use them but to awe my husband, or shall I listen, and so make him rue the day that he first roused my jealousy? But he may not be guilty—this girl may have no claim on him—beyond one of compassion or kindness. I may have suspected wrongly, and he may still have a lingering love for me, that may one day revive in all its early strength; and then were I to know him innocent—and myself the only guilty one, I should go mad—should die—should—oh, heaven help me.—(She falls exhausted by her feelings, in a chair;MR.andMRS. DOVEheard,L.H.)Mrs. Dove.Now, my dear Henry, mind your behaviour.Mrs. Ly.Ah! those people have arrived; my husband has neither seen them, nor heard of their having been here. I shall watch him well when they first meet.EnterMR.andMRS. DOVE,L.H.Mrs. Dove.Good day to you, Madam—I hope you find yourself in perfect health?Dove.(Bowing.)—Good day, Madam, feel yourself pretty well?Mrs. Dove.Henry, my dear, silence.Mrs. Ly.I am obliged to you for being so faithful to your promise.Mrs. Dove.’Tis the height of ill-manners to disappoint one’s friends in aninviteto dinner.Dove.And very stupid too—to refusewittles.Mrs. Dove.Henry, my dear—Dove.My darling, you never will let me talk.Mrs. Dove.Not till you know how, my love.Dove.But my dear, if you don’t let me practise, how am I ever toenquire the art?Mrs. Dove.Acquire, verb active, to gain;inquire, verb neuter, to ask questions—acquire the art.Dove.Acquire thehart!Mrs. Dove.Don’t aspirate, love.Dove.Oh, bother, dear.Mrs. Ly.Let me beg of you not to allude to this young person till after dinner, I will then lead the conversation to that subject—and then I hope you will freely and truly state all that you may know respecting her.EnterLYNX,R.H.Lynx.Emmeline, I—(SeeingDOVEand his wife.)—What! the mystery is now clear—that woman has traced me—has told my wife, but my secret is safe.Mrs. Dove.Ah, Mr. Lynx, how d’ye do?—surprised to see me here, no doubt?Lynx.No, madam—no.Mrs. Dove.’Tis some time since we met.Lynx.Almost a year, I think.Dove.Eleven months! I ought to know, because we warn’t united when Mr. Lynx used to give me half a crown for——Mrs. Dove.Henry—Mrs. Ly.I was informed that you knew these good people?—(ToLYNX.)Lynx.Oh yes, my dear—they are my very old friends.Mrs. Ly.Then I am happy in being the cause of renewing a friendship that seems so warm on either side; come, Mr. Dove, lead me to the dining-room—our friends have arrived, no doubt. Mr. Dove, will you favour me with your arm?Dove.Eh!—(Looking confused at his wife.)—What am I to do?Mrs. Dove.Give Mrs. Lynx your arm.Mrs. Ly.Lionel, will you bring Mrs. Dove?Lynx.(Offering his arm toMRS. DOVE.)—Certainly.Dove.(Leading offMRS. LYNX,L.H.)—Well, I declare, thisisgenteel life.Mrs. Dove.Thank you, Sir, you are very kind.—(LYNXleads offMRS. DOVE,L.H., CODDLElooks onR.H., quite pale.)Cod.I have been running all over the house to look for Lynx,—I thought I heard his voice here—how I tremble! he must know that Mr. and Mrs. Dismal have seen that wretched woman—though they have promised secrecy, yet I cannot expect they will be always silent.—(Re-enterLYNX.)—Oh, my friend! I have been looking for you—they are all at dinner, but I can’t eat in the state of mind I am in. Mr. and Mrs. Dismal saw you talking to her.Lynx.To whom?Cod.The elderly lady in black.Lynx.They did.Cod.Don’t—don’t look so astonished, you frighten me.Lynx.They surely will not talk of it?Cod.They have promised to be secret, but what will be my feelings, in their presence!—when either of them speak, I shall die with apprehension.Lynx.Leave it to me; we will see this woman to-morrow, and make some arrangement with her.Cod.I’ll say any thing—do any thing—give any thing, only conceal the affair from my wife.Lynx.Depend upon me—and be at peace. But be sure you do not equivocate in the question of this girl. The school-mistress with whom she lived is now here—at my very table. Remember! I, at your request, placed the girl under her care.Cod.Yes.Lynx.Because you did not dare confess to your wife that you had incurred such a responsibility,—but now you are anxious to acknowledge her.Cod.What will Mary say?Lynx.Remember, you have sworn it.Cod.I have, but tell me—who is this girl?Lynx.That is a mystery that I dare not disclose, even to you.Cod.Bless me! what two reprobates we are.Lynx.Come to the drawing-room, I must make some excuse for your leaving the table.—Now be bold.Cod.Yes, yes.Lynx.Do not equivocate.Cod.No, no.Lynx.On your moral courage depends your own safety, and my happiness.Cod.I know it, I know it.Lynx.And the least appearance of timidity may ruin us; now, are you ready?Cod.Wait a moment.—(Buttoning his coat up to his throat with great resolution.)—When I expect to be excited, I like to be guarded against taking cold—against the effects of draughts and currents of air. My courage is rising—it’s up—now I’m ready—give me your arm—there, look at me! Did you ever see a finer illustration of desperate courage? Never.—Now to the field of action—to mortal strife—and death or victory.Exit, dragging offLYNX,L.H.SCENE III.A Drawing Room; in the centre a large loo-table, on which is set out a complete dessert; all the party are discovered;CODDLEoccupies theR.H. corner, in an easy-chair;MRS. LYNXis seated beside him; next to her isMR. YOUNGHUSBANDandMR. DISMAL; MRS. DOVEandMR. LYNXsit together,MRS. DISMALnext to him, thenMRS. CODDLE,andMRS. YOUNGHUSBAND; MR. DOVEoccupies theL.H. corner.All,(butCODDLEandLYNX).—Astonishing! to keep the matter a secret so long. Strange! strange!Lynx.Now, let us drop the subject. Mrs. Coddle, I trust that you will not respect or love your husband the less, for this late disclosure?Mrs. Cod.Oh! no, no; I merely feel hurt that he should have thought it necessary to have concealed the circumstance. Had I been a violent, jealous, bad-tempered woman, there might have been some cause for secresy; but as every body knows what a kind, indulgent creature I really am, he might have made me his confidant! and the poor girl should have been brought home. Where is she now?Lynx.Quite safe, depend upon it; I will explain all at another opportunity.Mrs. Ly.(Aside.)—Falsehood, all falsehood! I’m convinced.Lynx.(To his wife.)—Now, my dear, I trust you are perfectly satisfied; and in this instance, I hope, you will confess that you were in error.Mrs. Ly.Certainly, as I have no opposing evidence to the veracity of your story; though, still, I think it very—very strange, that you should have so troubled yourself on Mr. Coddle’s account, if ’twere a mere act of friendship; the most famed heroes of antiquity have never been surpassed.Coddle.Ha! ha! now I feel happy; now my mind is at ease, and I’ll be comfortable. How that Mrs. Dismal fixes her eyes on me! Now fill your glasses; Mr. Dove, take care of your lady.Dove.Yes, yes!—(A knock and ring heard.)Lynx.Some arrival.—(DOVEjumps up and runs off,L.H.)Mrs. Dove.(Starting up.)—Henry, come back. I declare the man has gone to the door. Henry!DOVEre-enters.Dove.The door’s opened; there’s an individual——Mrs. Dove.Sit down, my dear, sit down.Dove.(Aside.)—I never shall get over answering the door, when a knock comes.—(Voices heard without, in altercation.)A voice.You mistake; you do, indeed!—You mistake.Cod.(Apprehensively.)—What is it?Dove.An individual——Mrs. Dove.Silence, Henry!Mrs. Ly.(Rising.)—The servant is in altercation with some one at the door; who can it be?Lynx.(Rising.)—Ring the bell.Mrs. Ly.No, no—I’ll go myself.[ExitL.H.Cod.I have a horrid presentiment of evil; a moment since I was glowing like a furnace, with joy—and now I freeze again, with terror.Mrs. Cod.What’s the matter, dear? do you feel cold?Cod.Yes—yes, ugh!—(Shuddering.)Mrs. Cod.And I’m dying for air.Mrs. Young.So am I, Mrs. Coddle.Young.I am sure you are not.Mrs. Young.I am.Dismal.Shall I open the folding doors?Cod.No—no!Dove.Ifeel verylanguishing.Mrs. Dove.Henry!languid.Dove.Languid!—how she does take me up before people.—(aside.)Cod.Hush! here’s Mrs. Lynx.MRS. LYNXre-enters, a letter in her hand.CODDLEregards her with anxiety.MRS. LYNXis trembling with agitation.Mrs. Lynx.It was—it was as I suspected, a black falsehood.Lynx.What is the matter?Cod.I shall fall flat on the floor, something is going to happen.Mrs. Ly.(ToLYNX.)—Restrain your curiosity, sir; you will know all in a moment, there is a lady below.Cod.I thought so.Mrs. Lynx.An elderly lady in black.Cod.(Falling back in his chair, in utter despair.)—I’m a dead man.Mrs. Ly.She tells me that her name is Coddle.——Mrs. Cod.(Starting up.)—What!Mrs. Ly.(Pointing toCODDLE.)—And that she is that man’s wife.Cod.(Groaning.)—Oh! I wish I could vanish through the floor.Mrs. Ly.This letter is for you, Madam.Mrs. Cod.For me!—(She tears the letter open, a marriage certificate falls on the floor.)—What is this?—Oh, I can’t read it—I shall faint, I have no power to read, pray take it—some one, Mr.—any body—pray read it.—(She holds out the letter,DOVEtakes it.)All,(butCODDLEandMRS. DOVE.)—Read it, Mr. Dove.Dove.I—I can’t.Mrs. Dove.Henry—how can you so expose yourself?Dove.You read it, Ma’am.—(Giving it toMRS. YOUNGHUSBAND.)Mrs. Young.Shall I read it, Mrs. Coddle?Mrs. Cod.Yes, yes, aloud—aloud—let the whole world hear it.Mrs. Y.Reading—“Madam, the writer of this is an injured woman—the monster——Cod.That’s me—oh—Mrs. Y.“The monster to whom you are married, has another wife. I am that person; the enclosed is a copy of my marriage certificate—’tis dated twenty years back; my object in coming to England is to claim a maintenance, and expose the villain.“Your obedient Servant,“Belvidera Coddle.”All.Bless me! dear, dear, dear! What a wretch—what a monster!Mrs. Lynx.The poor woman had better be asked up.Coddle.(Springing from his chair.)—No, no! I’d sooner face a thousand fiends than look once again on that dreadful being. My dear, my love!—(to his wife)—you don’t knowwhat I have suffered—what I have endured through that woman! In the first place, I was decoyed—trapped; she left me—I once thought she was dead—but——Mrs. Cod.(Rising with dignity.)—Silence Samuel! you have deceived me; I could have pardoned any thing but this. As to the subject of the poor girl, that you have stated belongs to you, that I freely forgave.Mrs. Lynx.(Violently.)—’Tis false, Mrs. Coddle! I asked the question of the bearer of that letter—I thought that she might be the parent of the girl—but, no, no; your husband has but supported mine in a falsehood; he never had a daughter. And you, sir,—(toLYNX)—are discovered and laid bare; but I shall leave you this day for ever.All.Nay, nay.Mrs. Cod.And I shall quitmywretch.—(She advances toCODDLE,who buries his face in his hands.)—From this moment, sir, we separate; go to your wife, the woman who lawfully claims you, and never look me in the face again. We were an ill-assorted pair from the first; but your affected apathy is now accounted for—it arose from an evil conscience. Cold-hearted, deliberate deceiver! farewell for ever!—(MRS. CODDLErushes out,L.H.)Coddle.Mary, come back; come back; hear me.—(He runs to theL., but suddenly stops.)—I dare not follow her; I shall meet the other. No, no; I must fly—I must leave the country—’tis now no home for me.Lynx.Sit still, my friend; be composed.Coddle.I can’t—I’ll leave the house—I’ll—— Ah, this door—(pointingR.H.)—leads to the canal; I’ll drown myself—I’m desperate enough—the sun has been on the water all day, so I’ve nothing to fear—I am resolved upon my course—felo-de-see, nothing else—adieu, my friends—I’m a discovered, a guilty monster—and this is the last time that you will ever see the distracted, wretched, Samuel Coddle.—(CODDLErushes off,R.H.)Mr. Young.(Starting up.)—The man will drown himself!Mrs. Y.No, he wont—sit still; you will only make matters worse.Dismal.Sit still all of you—I know him—when he comes in sight of water, his courage will cool; sit still.Mrs. Dove.Shall my dear Dove follow him?Dove.I can’t swim, duck!Dismal.No, no; sit still.Mrs. Ly.(Who has kept her eyes fixed on her husband throughout the scene.)—What, sir—not a word!quiteconfounded!Lynx.Emmeline!—(rising)—appearances, I confess, are against me; but you know not all. You know not the cause which compels me to this course; be patient.Mrs. Ly.I have been patient long enough, and will endure no more; this is the last moment that I pass under your roof.Lynx.Are you mad? will you hear me?Mrs. Ly.No, sir.Lynx.If you once quit the house, we never meet again.Mrs. Ly.That is my wish, sir.Lynx.Be warned—if you leave me now—itmust—itshallbe for ever.Mrs. Ly.It is, sir, for ever.—(Rushes outL.H. All the company rise.)Lynx.Nay, nay, keep your seats, my friends—keep your seats. I will not have a soul stir a foot to expostulate with her; let her take her own course. I have been in error, I confess; but not to the extent that she supposes; her causeless jealousies—her unceasing suspicions have wearied me, and she is free to go—pray do not be disturbed on my account—make yourselves happy; I am sorry that our meeting should have ended thus—but my wife is to blame—she would not hear—would not listen to me, and now—(aside.)—I leave this house, never to return.[Exit,R.H.Dove.Nowhe’sgone—shall I follow him, love?Mrs. Dove.No, no; sit still, dear.Mrs. Y.Call him back! Mr. Lynx!—(calling.)—he’ll do himself a mischief—I know he will.Young.He wont, sit still—if you follow and torment him as you do me, sometimes—you will, indeed, drive him to desperation.Mrs. Y.Ifollow and torment you, sir?Young.You do—often—often.Mrs. Y.You’re an aggravating man, and——Mrs. Dove.(Rising.)—Nay, nay; dear, dear; pray don’t get to words—my darling, Henry, hand that lady some wine; sit still, there’s a dear.—(toMRS. YOUNGHUSBAND)—Emulate Mr. Dove and me, we never utter a cross word to each other—do we, dear?Dove.No, love.—(Handing wine toMRS. YOUNGHUSBAND.)Mrs. Y.Take it away, sir, I don’t want wine. Oh, sir, you need not sit there looking so fierce; (toYOUNGHUSBAND)—I was certain we should have a disagreement before the day was out; you contradicted me about my silver thimble—you insisted that aunt Sarah gave it me.Young.So she did.Mrs. Y.She didn’t—’twas uncle Tolloday gave it me.Young.’Twas aunt Sarah.Mrs. Y.Uncle Tolloday.Young.You’re a provoking woman.Mrs. Y.You’re a hideous man.Young.I’m going home.Mrs. Y.I am not. I shall never go home any more.Young.That wont break my heart.Mrs. Y.Yourheart! you never had one.Young.I had once.Mrs. Y.Never.Young.You drive me to madness; I shall go home; and I can only tell you, madam, since you threaten me, thatwhenyouarrive there, you will receive no welcome from me.Mrs. Y.Do you mean that?Young.I do.—(He rushes offR.)Mrs. Y.Then I’ll go to my aunt Sarah;—he shall never see me again, an aggravating creature. How I could ever marry him, I can’t think! It was uncle Tolloday that gave me the silver thimble—I know it was; but hewillcontradict me. He does it on purpose to vex me—and oppose me—and worry me—and break my heart; but I’ll go this moment to my aunt’s, and I’ll never—never set foot in his house again.[Exit,L.H.Mrs. Dove.Dear, dear! what wretched lives some people do lead, don’t they, love?Dove.Yes, dear.Mrs. Dis.(ToDISMAL.)—Just like you brutes of men—It’s quite heart-breaking to see how we poor creatures are treated!Dis.What is it to you; nobody ill treats you!Mrs. Dis.Youdo; I’ve been sitting here for this hour, and you have never spoken a word to me.Dis.I had nothing to say.Mrs. Dis.And though you know how fond I am of the wing of a fowl, you would send me a leg at dinner.Dis.You women always want the wing.Mrs. Dis.I’m a wretched woman.Mrs. Dove.My dear Henry, can’t you console poor Mrs. Dismal?Dove.Oh yes, love! have a hapricot, Ma’am?Mrs. Dove.Anapricot—Henry, dear, you mis-apply your indefinite article.Dove.Do I?—console the lady yourself, love.Mrs. Dis.The fact is—I had no business to marry you.Dis.Now you speak the truth, we both ought to have known better; when people have lived single for fifty years, they should learn to look on matrimony as a misery they have luckily escaped.Mrs. Dis.You need not allude to my age, sir, before people.Dis.What does it matter? who cares how old you are? you’re fifty odd—so am I; and we have been married a year and a half—more fool I—more fool you.Mrs. Dis.(CrossesL.)—I’m going home.Dis.Well, go.Mrs. Dis.Don’t you intend to come with me?Dis.No.Mrs. Dis.You’re an unkind man, and if we never meet again—I sha’n’t be sorry.Dis.Then the gratification will be mutual.Mrs. Dis.Indeed! I shall take you at your word, sir—(going)—but, remember, all my property is settled on myself.[ExitL.H.Dis.Serves me right—after living a bachelor fifty years, I had no right to alter my situation, but I’ll apply for a divorce—I will—’twill be granted too; I’ve an excellent plea—mutual insanity.[ExitR.H.Dove.Well—now all the people have gone, I’ve something to say—and something that I mean, too; I won’t be taken up, as I always am, before people.Mrs. Dove.What do you mean, Henry, by being taken up?Dove.Why—altering my pronounciation every minute, as you do.Mrs. Dove.How can I calmly sit and hear my husband commit himself in every syllable that he utters? respect for you and for myself, renders it necessary that I should correct you.Dove.Well, I don’t like it—and I warn you not toresultme again.Mrs. Dove.Insultyou.Dove.Well, insult me again—you know howwiolentI am when I’mexaggerated.Mrs. Dove.When you’re exasperated.Dove.Well, what’s it matter! you perfectly compromise my meaning.Mrs. Dove.Henry—Henry—I will not hear you make use of such language. Had I been aware that you were so illiterate—I would have broken my heart ere I would have married you—Dove.Yes—you never used to find fault with my language when we used to sit under the apple-tree of an evening.Mrs. Dove.That I should not have seen the absurdity of uniting myself with one so opposite to me!Dove.Opposite to you!—you never would let me be opposite to you; you was never easy but when I was by your side; you know you wasn’t!Mrs. Dove.But love is blind——Dove.Yes, and deaf too, if I may judge from my own situation; just as if you couldn’t have found out my pronounciation then as well as now. I know’d there was a greatcontractbetween us.Mrs. Dove.Contrast! besides, you are so stupid; you could not, during dinner, hear a bell or a knock at the door, but you must be running to answer it. I sat on thorns for you.Dove.Well, then, that was werry kind of you. I wouldn’t do such a thing for my father; but don’t call me stupid—if you talk of bad language, what’s that, I wonder? Good bye!—you wont see me again, in a hurry.Mrs. Dove.Where are you going?Dove.I don’t know where I’m going, nor I don’t care; you’ve wounded me in a tenderpint.Mrs. Dove.Point!——Dove.Point!—and I don’t care if I never see you again.Mrs. Dove.(Taking his hand.)—Henry!Dove.Let go my hand, Martha; I mean what I say; and don’t follow me, because I wont be follow’d.Mrs. Dove.You cannot intend to be so base?Dove.I do—you’ve put me in a passion, and when I am in a passion I’mdissolute.[Exit,R.H.Mrs. Dove.Resolute!—(calling after him)—Cruel Henry! I shall faint—Help! Henry!—Water!—oh! oh!—(She faints in a chair, and the drop falls.)END OFACTII.
An Apartment in the house ofMR. CODDLE;windows at the back with curtains; the doors are edged with list and leather. Table and chairs; an easy chair in the centre of the stage;MRS. CODDLEdiscovered at the table, a note in her hand.
Mrs. Cod.How very odd! how very strange! though this note arrived last night, I have scarcely done anything since but read it.—(Reads.)—“My dear Mrs. Coddle, pray pardon the warmth of my temper that led me to use certain expressions to you, of which, at the time, I was not conscious—though now, on recollection of them, I express my sorrow. Forgive me, and dine with us at five to-morrow, do not dissappoint me on your life, as I have a strong reason for inviting you; bring Coddle with you, of course. Sincerely yours, Emmeline Lynx.” What a strange woman! who would suppose, that yesterday, she desired me to quit the house and never enter there again. Well, I’m resolved to go. What a length of time Coddle takes for dressing; ’tis now half-past four, and I have been ready this hour.—(She knocks atR.H.D.)—Coddle, you drone, make haste.
Cod.(Within.)—I shall be ready immediately—I am now putting on my fourth waistcoat.
Mrs. Cod.And he wearssix—how the man can exist in such a state, I know not; and what is the matter with him, I am equally at a loss to guess; he has been overpowered with nervous agitation, and in a high fever all the morning—has been talking in his sleep all night. I could only catch the words “Dont,—I’ll say any thing—declare any thing—but don’t;”—the man has something on his mind—what can it be?—He surely can’t have committed any crime—a robbery, nor a murder?—oh, the monster! I must question him.—(EnterCODDLE,R.H.D., dressed for a dinner party.)—Well, my dear, are you better?
Cod.Not much—I feel very faint.
Mrs. Cod.Give me your hand.—(CODDLEpresents his hand timidly.)—Dear—dear—what a burning fever you are in—your hands are like live coals; and what a pulse.—(Feeling his pulse.)—Heaven’s, Samuel!—you are ill!
Cod.I am.
Mrs. Cod.And the cause is not so much bodily infirmity as mental anxiety.
Cod.Lord!—do you—do you think so?
Mrs. Cod.You are fainting—let me open the windows.
Cod.No—no—not for worlds.
Mrs. Cod.What has caused this fever?
Cod.I—I—don’t know.
Mrs. Cod.Coddle, your mind is diseased.
Cod.My dear, don’t speak to me in that fierce manner, you make me tremble from head to foot.
Mrs. Cod.You pass’d a wretched night.
Cod.I did.
Mrs. Cod.You talk’d in your sleep.
Cod.No!—(Alarmed.)—Did I—what did I say?
Mrs. Cod.Sufficient to rouse my suspicions.
Cod.I have been criminating myself—’twas while I was dreaming of being hanged.—(Aside.)—Whatwillbecome of me?
Mrs. Cod.Tell me—what is this matter that has so suddenly disconcerted you?
Cod.Ah—she don’t know—I breathe again.
Mrs. Cod.Answer me, Sir; what have you done?
Cod.I—I—left off my life-preserving under-waistcoat, yesterday.
Mrs. Cod.Base equivocator—you shall have no rest, depend upon it, till I am perfectly acquainted with the cause of your agitation. I have watched your actions, Sir, more than you are aware of; ’tis something in which Mr. Lynx is concerned;I observed you, when you returned from his house yesterday, you came home quite an altered man—you that were not to be roused by any thing that did not interfere with your own immediate comfort, seemed suddenly to have changed your nature: the servant left your room door open, unchecked; a broken pane close to your ear escaped your notice—you ate no supper—you ordered no fire in your bed-room—and your sleep was disturbed by sighs and groans, and words of guilt.—Ha!—I have made you tremble—now, Sir, I shall leave you, and in the meantime you will do well to prepare for a confession that I am resolved to wring from you.—(Aside.)—I have shaken him from his lethargy at last.
[Exit,L.H.
Cod.I am a lost man—I knew my day of reckoning would arrive. Mary suspects something, that’s clear—um!—and I’m going out to dinner too—what a dinner it will be to me; it must be a feast of poison, and a flow of woe—if my secret is preserved, my promise to Lynx must lead to a commotion.—Who can this girl be that I undertake to own? Ha! ha!—now I think of it, I am safe; hedarenot betray me, he is as much inmypower as I am inhis—yet how could he have discovered my unhappy situation? He won’t acknowledge that. No—no; he considers that mystery adds to his strong hold upon me. I have borrowed a book of criminal jurisprudence, from my attorney.—I want to learn the utmost penalty of the law for my offence.—(He takes a book from his pocket and turns over the leaves.)—Here it is—bigamy!—(Reads.)—“If guilty,”—what? “transportation for life.” Oh!—(Falling in a chair.)—Think of my being at Botany Bay—working night and day—summer and winter—in trousers without lining—only a shirt on my back—and a chain round my leg; no umbrella to put up when it rains, no such thing as a yard of Welch flannel within a thousand miles of me, and nothing aired for me—I should die—the first damp night would send me to the tomb of the Coddles—oh!—(Shuddering.)
Re-enterMRS. CODDLE,introducingMR.andMRS. DISMAL.
Mrs. Cod.Come in, come in; there is nobody here but Coddle.
Cod.Ah, Mr. Dismal!—I was thinking of you.
Mrs. Cod.Mr. and Mrs. D. have also received an invitation to dine at Lynx’s to-day—and have called, in passing, to know if we were also going.
Mrs. Dis.How ill poor Mr. Coddle looks!
Dis.What is the matter with him?
Mrs. Cod.I’m sure I can’t tell, he keeps the cause of his illness a profound secret.
Mrs. Dis.He’s like me—he loves to pine in solitude, and brood over unrevealed sorrows.
Dis.You love to be a fool.
Mrs. Cod.Our friends are as much surprised at receiving an invitation from Mrs. Lynx as we were.
Mrs. Dis.For the last time we called there the poor woman thought proper to be jealous ofme.
Dis.There was only that wanting to prove her madness.
Mrs. Dis.But she has a cause for her jealousy.
Dis.Certainly, when you are present.
Mrs. Dis.Didn’t we see him, yesterday, following a young person past our house?
Dis.What of that? ’tis a natural impulse to which our sex are peculiarly subject.
Mrs. Cod.Except Mr. Coddle—were Venus herself to rise from the sea before him, he’d take to his heels for fear of catching cold from the foam.
Mrs. Dis.Tell Mr. Coddle the strange result of our inquiries, respecting Mr. Lynx’s conduct.
Dis.Pooh! tell him yourself.
Mrs. Dis.The young person that we saw Mr. Lynx following, and striving to speak to, was joined by an elderly lady in black.
Cod.Eh! an elderly lady in black—’twas she, he told me she was in black.—(aside.)
Mrs. Dis.Of a very masculine appearance—Mr. Lynx seemed to enter into earnest conversation with her; when they parted, the two ladies entered a boarding-house, next door to us; our servant, gossiping with the footman, there ascertained that the elderly lady in black——
Cod.Well——
Mrs. Dis.Had just arrived from Antigua——
Mrs. Cod.Where your property is situated.—(ToCODDLE.)
Mrs. Dis.That she had taken lodgings there for a short time, her object being to discover her husband, who had left her in the West Indies, and whose name, strange to say, was——
Cod.(Who has started up duringMRS. D’snarrative, and is regarding her with intense curiosity, now falls back into his chair.)—Oh!
Mrs. Cod.What’s the matter?—what’s the matter?
Dis.He’s fainted——
Mrs. Dis.Here, here are my salts.
Dis.Open the windows—open the windows.
Mrs. Cod.No, no, you will kill him if you do.—(DISMALmakes to the windows, but is checked byMRS. CODDLE; CODDLE,on hearing that the windows are to be opened, is about to start from his chair, but checks himself and resumes his position.)
Mrs. Dis.Get him some water—ring the bell.
Mrs. Cod.Stay stay, I’ll go myself.—(MRS. CODDLEruns offR.H.F.E. CODDLEsuddenly starts up betweenMR.andMRS. DISMAL,and takes a hand of each.)
Cod.As you love me—if you do not wish to see me lifeless at your feet, breathe not a syllable relative to the elderly lady in black—mention not her name.
Dis.’Twas your own——
Cod.I know it, I know it—’tis a terrible secret; a story of horror and despair; when we are alone, you shall know all—but not a word now. I beg—I implore—I pray—ah, my wife!—(He falls back again into his chair.)
Re-enterMRS. CODDLE,with a glass of water.
Mrs. Dis.He’s better now.
Dis.Much better.
Cod.(Affecting to revive.)—Considerably better.
Mrs. Cod.I don’t wonder at your fainting, my only surprize is that you can breathe at all, in such an atmosphere; there’s not a breath of air permitted to enter the room. Phew! I’m stifled; excuse me a moment, my friends, I wish to speak to Coddle alone.—(DISMALand his wife are going.)—No, no—don’t leave the room.
Cod.(Aside.)—What can she be going to say?
Mrs. Cod.Samuel!
Cod.My love!
Mrs. Cod.Surely your agitation, and your sudden faintness cannot arise from any apprehension?
Cod.Of what?
Mrs. Cod.That this elderly lady, in black, is——
Cod.No, no, no—oh, dear! no, no.
Mrs. Cod.You anticipate me—not what?
Cod.Not—I don’t know? what were you going to say?
Mrs. Cod.I have very strange and very terrible suspicions! ’tis surely no poor creature that you, in the hey-day of your youth——
Cod.No, no, no—my dear! How can you think—how can you dream of such a thing? I never had any hey-day—never; don’t think that of me. Come, come—let us go to Lynx’s to dinner. Get ready, dear; get ready.
Mrs. Cod.I strongly suspect you.—(MRS. CODDLEgoes up the stage, and throws a shawl on her shoulders.)
Cod.What will become of me? If I escape the imputation of bigamy, the subject of that girl will be sufficient to bring my wife’s vengeance on my head; I’ll run and drown myself in a warm bath. I’ll—no, no—I must rouse, I must rouse; Imust summon all my courage—all my fortitude—and bring out what little of the devil I have left in me.
Mrs. Cod.Now, Coddle, I’m quite ready.
Cod.So am I.—(Putting on his hat.)—Come along, I shall be very gay to-day; you will wonder what possesses me. I shall be so gay; come Mrs. Dismal, take my arm, my dear; ’tis bad taste to walk with one’s wife. D., look to Mrs. Coddle!
Mrs. Cod.The man’s mad——
Dis.Raving.
Cod.You shall see me to advantage, to-day; I feel a new man; you may open all the doors and windows in the house. I’ll do any thing desperate, to-day—walk to Lynx’s, without my coat, hat, any thing—come, my love.—Come Dismal.—Fol de rol, de rol lol.—(CODDLEdances off withMRS. DISMAL,L.H.)
Mrs. Cod.Mad!
Dismal.Gone, quite gone.
[Exeunt following.
A Room atLYNX’S.
EnterMRS. LYNX,R.H.
Mrs. Lynx.The time has almost arrived that will either relieve me from the dreadful suspense that I now endure, or plunge me still deeper into misery; since yesterday I have scarcely uttered a word in his presence; I have religiously adhered to the resolution that I would not touch upon a subject that has so filled me with conflicting emotions; but to-day, in an hour, I shall know the worst; and if hebethe guilty one, that I am madly certain he is, his friends and the world shall know how I have been wronged, and for what purpose I have assembled them here.—(Produces a letter.)—Were it not for tokens like these, I should almost think that I had ceased to charm—had ceased to be looked upon even with interest, bythe meanest of earth’s creatures; here is one that tells me he loves me; my husband once told me so, but then I was younger and had a free heart to give; that now, alas, is gone for ever; here is one who offers me wealth—splendour and affection—if I will forsake a husband that slights me—that torments and maddens me—what shall I do? I have now the means of revenge—of a full and bold revenge. Shall I use them but to awe my husband, or shall I listen, and so make him rue the day that he first roused my jealousy? But he may not be guilty—this girl may have no claim on him—beyond one of compassion or kindness. I may have suspected wrongly, and he may still have a lingering love for me, that may one day revive in all its early strength; and then were I to know him innocent—and myself the only guilty one, I should go mad—should die—should—oh, heaven help me.—(She falls exhausted by her feelings, in a chair;MR.andMRS. DOVEheard,L.H.)
Mrs. Dove.Now, my dear Henry, mind your behaviour.
Mrs. Ly.Ah! those people have arrived; my husband has neither seen them, nor heard of their having been here. I shall watch him well when they first meet.
EnterMR.andMRS. DOVE,L.H.
Mrs. Dove.Good day to you, Madam—I hope you find yourself in perfect health?
Dove.(Bowing.)—Good day, Madam, feel yourself pretty well?
Mrs. Dove.Henry, my dear, silence.
Mrs. Ly.I am obliged to you for being so faithful to your promise.
Mrs. Dove.’Tis the height of ill-manners to disappoint one’s friends in aninviteto dinner.
Dove.And very stupid too—to refusewittles.
Mrs. Dove.Henry, my dear—
Dove.My darling, you never will let me talk.
Mrs. Dove.Not till you know how, my love.
Dove.But my dear, if you don’t let me practise, how am I ever toenquire the art?
Mrs. Dove.Acquire, verb active, to gain;inquire, verb neuter, to ask questions—acquire the art.
Dove.Acquire thehart!
Mrs. Dove.Don’t aspirate, love.
Dove.Oh, bother, dear.
Mrs. Ly.Let me beg of you not to allude to this young person till after dinner, I will then lead the conversation to that subject—and then I hope you will freely and truly state all that you may know respecting her.
EnterLYNX,R.H.
Lynx.Emmeline, I—(SeeingDOVEand his wife.)—What! the mystery is now clear—that woman has traced me—has told my wife, but my secret is safe.
Mrs. Dove.Ah, Mr. Lynx, how d’ye do?—surprised to see me here, no doubt?
Lynx.No, madam—no.
Mrs. Dove.’Tis some time since we met.
Lynx.Almost a year, I think.
Dove.Eleven months! I ought to know, because we warn’t united when Mr. Lynx used to give me half a crown for——
Mrs. Dove.Henry—
Mrs. Ly.I was informed that you knew these good people?—(ToLYNX.)
Lynx.Oh yes, my dear—they are my very old friends.
Mrs. Ly.Then I am happy in being the cause of renewing a friendship that seems so warm on either side; come, Mr. Dove, lead me to the dining-room—our friends have arrived, no doubt. Mr. Dove, will you favour me with your arm?
Dove.Eh!—(Looking confused at his wife.)—What am I to do?
Mrs. Dove.Give Mrs. Lynx your arm.
Mrs. Ly.Lionel, will you bring Mrs. Dove?
Lynx.(Offering his arm toMRS. DOVE.)—Certainly.
Dove.(Leading offMRS. LYNX,L.H.)—Well, I declare, thisisgenteel life.
Mrs. Dove.Thank you, Sir, you are very kind.—(LYNXleads offMRS. DOVE,L.H., CODDLElooks onR.H., quite pale.)
Cod.I have been running all over the house to look for Lynx,—I thought I heard his voice here—how I tremble! he must know that Mr. and Mrs. Dismal have seen that wretched woman—though they have promised secrecy, yet I cannot expect they will be always silent.—(Re-enterLYNX.)—Oh, my friend! I have been looking for you—they are all at dinner, but I can’t eat in the state of mind I am in. Mr. and Mrs. Dismal saw you talking to her.
Lynx.To whom?
Cod.The elderly lady in black.
Lynx.They did.
Cod.Don’t—don’t look so astonished, you frighten me.
Lynx.They surely will not talk of it?
Cod.They have promised to be secret, but what will be my feelings, in their presence!—when either of them speak, I shall die with apprehension.
Lynx.Leave it to me; we will see this woman to-morrow, and make some arrangement with her.
Cod.I’ll say any thing—do any thing—give any thing, only conceal the affair from my wife.
Lynx.Depend upon me—and be at peace. But be sure you do not equivocate in the question of this girl. The school-mistress with whom she lived is now here—at my very table. Remember! I, at your request, placed the girl under her care.
Cod.Yes.
Lynx.Because you did not dare confess to your wife that you had incurred such a responsibility,—but now you are anxious to acknowledge her.
Cod.What will Mary say?
Lynx.Remember, you have sworn it.
Cod.I have, but tell me—who is this girl?
Lynx.That is a mystery that I dare not disclose, even to you.
Cod.Bless me! what two reprobates we are.
Lynx.Come to the drawing-room, I must make some excuse for your leaving the table.—Now be bold.
Cod.Yes, yes.
Lynx.Do not equivocate.
Cod.No, no.
Lynx.On your moral courage depends your own safety, and my happiness.
Cod.I know it, I know it.
Lynx.And the least appearance of timidity may ruin us; now, are you ready?
Cod.Wait a moment.—(Buttoning his coat up to his throat with great resolution.)—When I expect to be excited, I like to be guarded against taking cold—against the effects of draughts and currents of air. My courage is rising—it’s up—now I’m ready—give me your arm—there, look at me! Did you ever see a finer illustration of desperate courage? Never.—Now to the field of action—to mortal strife—and death or victory.
Exit, dragging offLYNX,L.H.
A Drawing Room; in the centre a large loo-table, on which is set out a complete dessert; all the party are discovered;CODDLEoccupies theR.H. corner, in an easy-chair;MRS. LYNXis seated beside him; next to her isMR. YOUNGHUSBANDandMR. DISMAL; MRS. DOVEandMR. LYNXsit together,MRS. DISMALnext to him, thenMRS. CODDLE,andMRS. YOUNGHUSBAND; MR. DOVEoccupies theL.H. corner.
All,(butCODDLEandLYNX).—Astonishing! to keep the matter a secret so long. Strange! strange!
Lynx.Now, let us drop the subject. Mrs. Coddle, I trust that you will not respect or love your husband the less, for this late disclosure?
Mrs. Cod.Oh! no, no; I merely feel hurt that he should have thought it necessary to have concealed the circumstance. Had I been a violent, jealous, bad-tempered woman, there might have been some cause for secresy; but as every body knows what a kind, indulgent creature I really am, he might have made me his confidant! and the poor girl should have been brought home. Where is she now?
Lynx.Quite safe, depend upon it; I will explain all at another opportunity.
Mrs. Ly.(Aside.)—Falsehood, all falsehood! I’m convinced.
Lynx.(To his wife.)—Now, my dear, I trust you are perfectly satisfied; and in this instance, I hope, you will confess that you were in error.
Mrs. Ly.Certainly, as I have no opposing evidence to the veracity of your story; though, still, I think it very—very strange, that you should have so troubled yourself on Mr. Coddle’s account, if ’twere a mere act of friendship; the most famed heroes of antiquity have never been surpassed.
Coddle.Ha! ha! now I feel happy; now my mind is at ease, and I’ll be comfortable. How that Mrs. Dismal fixes her eyes on me! Now fill your glasses; Mr. Dove, take care of your lady.
Dove.Yes, yes!—(A knock and ring heard.)
Lynx.Some arrival.—(DOVEjumps up and runs off,L.H.)
Mrs. Dove.(Starting up.)—Henry, come back. I declare the man has gone to the door. Henry!
DOVEre-enters.
Dove.The door’s opened; there’s an individual——
Mrs. Dove.Sit down, my dear, sit down.
Dove.(Aside.)—I never shall get over answering the door, when a knock comes.—(Voices heard without, in altercation.)
A voice.You mistake; you do, indeed!—You mistake.
Cod.(Apprehensively.)—What is it?
Dove.An individual——
Mrs. Dove.Silence, Henry!
Mrs. Ly.(Rising.)—The servant is in altercation with some one at the door; who can it be?
Lynx.(Rising.)—Ring the bell.
Mrs. Ly.No, no—I’ll go myself.
[ExitL.H.
Cod.I have a horrid presentiment of evil; a moment since I was glowing like a furnace, with joy—and now I freeze again, with terror.
Mrs. Cod.What’s the matter, dear? do you feel cold?
Cod.Yes—yes, ugh!—(Shuddering.)
Mrs. Cod.And I’m dying for air.
Mrs. Young.So am I, Mrs. Coddle.
Young.I am sure you are not.
Mrs. Young.I am.
Dismal.Shall I open the folding doors?
Cod.No—no!
Dove.Ifeel verylanguishing.
Mrs. Dove.Henry!languid.
Dove.Languid!—how she does take me up before people.—(aside.)
Cod.Hush! here’s Mrs. Lynx.
MRS. LYNXre-enters, a letter in her hand.CODDLEregards her with anxiety.MRS. LYNXis trembling with agitation.
Mrs. Lynx.It was—it was as I suspected, a black falsehood.
Lynx.What is the matter?
Cod.I shall fall flat on the floor, something is going to happen.
Mrs. Ly.(ToLYNX.)—Restrain your curiosity, sir; you will know all in a moment, there is a lady below.
Cod.I thought so.
Mrs. Lynx.An elderly lady in black.
Cod.(Falling back in his chair, in utter despair.)—I’m a dead man.
Mrs. Ly.She tells me that her name is Coddle.——
Mrs. Cod.(Starting up.)—What!
Mrs. Ly.(Pointing toCODDLE.)—And that she is that man’s wife.
Cod.(Groaning.)—Oh! I wish I could vanish through the floor.
Mrs. Ly.This letter is for you, Madam.
Mrs. Cod.For me!—(She tears the letter open, a marriage certificate falls on the floor.)—What is this?—Oh, I can’t read it—I shall faint, I have no power to read, pray take it—some one, Mr.—any body—pray read it.—(She holds out the letter,DOVEtakes it.)
All,(butCODDLEandMRS. DOVE.)—Read it, Mr. Dove.
Dove.I—I can’t.
Mrs. Dove.Henry—how can you so expose yourself?
Dove.You read it, Ma’am.—(Giving it toMRS. YOUNGHUSBAND.)
Mrs. Young.Shall I read it, Mrs. Coddle?
Mrs. Cod.Yes, yes, aloud—aloud—let the whole world hear it.
Mrs. Y.Reading—“Madam, the writer of this is an injured woman—the monster——
Cod.That’s me—oh—
Mrs. Y.“The monster to whom you are married, has another wife. I am that person; the enclosed is a copy of my marriage certificate—’tis dated twenty years back; my object in coming to England is to claim a maintenance, and expose the villain.
“Your obedient Servant,
“Belvidera Coddle.”
All.Bless me! dear, dear, dear! What a wretch—what a monster!
Mrs. Lynx.The poor woman had better be asked up.
Coddle.(Springing from his chair.)—No, no! I’d sooner face a thousand fiends than look once again on that dreadful being. My dear, my love!—(to his wife)—you don’t knowwhat I have suffered—what I have endured through that woman! In the first place, I was decoyed—trapped; she left me—I once thought she was dead—but——
Mrs. Cod.(Rising with dignity.)—Silence Samuel! you have deceived me; I could have pardoned any thing but this. As to the subject of the poor girl, that you have stated belongs to you, that I freely forgave.
Mrs. Lynx.(Violently.)—’Tis false, Mrs. Coddle! I asked the question of the bearer of that letter—I thought that she might be the parent of the girl—but, no, no; your husband has but supported mine in a falsehood; he never had a daughter. And you, sir,—(toLYNX)—are discovered and laid bare; but I shall leave you this day for ever.
All.Nay, nay.
Mrs. Cod.And I shall quitmywretch.—(She advances toCODDLE,who buries his face in his hands.)—From this moment, sir, we separate; go to your wife, the woman who lawfully claims you, and never look me in the face again. We were an ill-assorted pair from the first; but your affected apathy is now accounted for—it arose from an evil conscience. Cold-hearted, deliberate deceiver! farewell for ever!—(MRS. CODDLErushes out,L.H.)
Coddle.Mary, come back; come back; hear me.—(He runs to theL., but suddenly stops.)—I dare not follow her; I shall meet the other. No, no; I must fly—I must leave the country—’tis now no home for me.
Lynx.Sit still, my friend; be composed.
Coddle.I can’t—I’ll leave the house—I’ll—— Ah, this door—(pointingR.H.)—leads to the canal; I’ll drown myself—I’m desperate enough—the sun has been on the water all day, so I’ve nothing to fear—I am resolved upon my course—felo-de-see, nothing else—adieu, my friends—I’m a discovered, a guilty monster—and this is the last time that you will ever see the distracted, wretched, Samuel Coddle.—(CODDLErushes off,R.H.)
Mr. Young.(Starting up.)—The man will drown himself!
Mrs. Y.No, he wont—sit still; you will only make matters worse.
Dismal.Sit still all of you—I know him—when he comes in sight of water, his courage will cool; sit still.
Mrs. Dove.Shall my dear Dove follow him?
Dove.I can’t swim, duck!
Dismal.No, no; sit still.
Mrs. Ly.(Who has kept her eyes fixed on her husband throughout the scene.)—What, sir—not a word!quiteconfounded!
Lynx.Emmeline!—(rising)—appearances, I confess, are against me; but you know not all. You know not the cause which compels me to this course; be patient.
Mrs. Ly.I have been patient long enough, and will endure no more; this is the last moment that I pass under your roof.
Lynx.Are you mad? will you hear me?
Mrs. Ly.No, sir.
Lynx.If you once quit the house, we never meet again.
Mrs. Ly.That is my wish, sir.
Lynx.Be warned—if you leave me now—itmust—itshallbe for ever.
Mrs. Ly.It is, sir, for ever.—(Rushes outL.H. All the company rise.)
Lynx.Nay, nay, keep your seats, my friends—keep your seats. I will not have a soul stir a foot to expostulate with her; let her take her own course. I have been in error, I confess; but not to the extent that she supposes; her causeless jealousies—her unceasing suspicions have wearied me, and she is free to go—pray do not be disturbed on my account—make yourselves happy; I am sorry that our meeting should have ended thus—but my wife is to blame—she would not hear—would not listen to me, and now—(aside.)—I leave this house, never to return.
[Exit,R.H.
Dove.Nowhe’sgone—shall I follow him, love?
Mrs. Dove.No, no; sit still, dear.
Mrs. Y.Call him back! Mr. Lynx!—(calling.)—he’ll do himself a mischief—I know he will.
Young.He wont, sit still—if you follow and torment him as you do me, sometimes—you will, indeed, drive him to desperation.
Mrs. Y.Ifollow and torment you, sir?
Young.You do—often—often.
Mrs. Y.You’re an aggravating man, and——
Mrs. Dove.(Rising.)—Nay, nay; dear, dear; pray don’t get to words—my darling, Henry, hand that lady some wine; sit still, there’s a dear.—(toMRS. YOUNGHUSBAND)—Emulate Mr. Dove and me, we never utter a cross word to each other—do we, dear?
Dove.No, love.—(Handing wine toMRS. YOUNGHUSBAND.)
Mrs. Y.Take it away, sir, I don’t want wine. Oh, sir, you need not sit there looking so fierce; (toYOUNGHUSBAND)—I was certain we should have a disagreement before the day was out; you contradicted me about my silver thimble—you insisted that aunt Sarah gave it me.
Young.So she did.
Mrs. Y.She didn’t—’twas uncle Tolloday gave it me.
Young.’Twas aunt Sarah.
Mrs. Y.Uncle Tolloday.
Young.You’re a provoking woman.
Mrs. Y.You’re a hideous man.
Young.I’m going home.
Mrs. Y.I am not. I shall never go home any more.
Young.That wont break my heart.
Mrs. Y.Yourheart! you never had one.
Young.I had once.
Mrs. Y.Never.
Young.You drive me to madness; I shall go home; and I can only tell you, madam, since you threaten me, thatwhenyouarrive there, you will receive no welcome from me.
Mrs. Y.Do you mean that?
Young.I do.—(He rushes offR.)
Mrs. Y.Then I’ll go to my aunt Sarah;—he shall never see me again, an aggravating creature. How I could ever marry him, I can’t think! It was uncle Tolloday that gave me the silver thimble—I know it was; but hewillcontradict me. He does it on purpose to vex me—and oppose me—and worry me—and break my heart; but I’ll go this moment to my aunt’s, and I’ll never—never set foot in his house again.
[Exit,L.H.
Mrs. Dove.Dear, dear! what wretched lives some people do lead, don’t they, love?
Dove.Yes, dear.
Mrs. Dis.(ToDISMAL.)—Just like you brutes of men—It’s quite heart-breaking to see how we poor creatures are treated!
Dis.What is it to you; nobody ill treats you!
Mrs. Dis.Youdo; I’ve been sitting here for this hour, and you have never spoken a word to me.
Dis.I had nothing to say.
Mrs. Dis.And though you know how fond I am of the wing of a fowl, you would send me a leg at dinner.
Dis.You women always want the wing.
Mrs. Dis.I’m a wretched woman.
Mrs. Dove.My dear Henry, can’t you console poor Mrs. Dismal?
Dove.Oh yes, love! have a hapricot, Ma’am?
Mrs. Dove.Anapricot—Henry, dear, you mis-apply your indefinite article.
Dove.Do I?—console the lady yourself, love.
Mrs. Dis.The fact is—I had no business to marry you.
Dis.Now you speak the truth, we both ought to have known better; when people have lived single for fifty years, they should learn to look on matrimony as a misery they have luckily escaped.
Mrs. Dis.You need not allude to my age, sir, before people.
Dis.What does it matter? who cares how old you are? you’re fifty odd—so am I; and we have been married a year and a half—more fool I—more fool you.
Mrs. Dis.(CrossesL.)—I’m going home.
Dis.Well, go.
Mrs. Dis.Don’t you intend to come with me?
Dis.No.
Mrs. Dis.You’re an unkind man, and if we never meet again—I sha’n’t be sorry.
Dis.Then the gratification will be mutual.
Mrs. Dis.Indeed! I shall take you at your word, sir—(going)—but, remember, all my property is settled on myself.
[ExitL.H.
Dis.Serves me right—after living a bachelor fifty years, I had no right to alter my situation, but I’ll apply for a divorce—I will—’twill be granted too; I’ve an excellent plea—mutual insanity.
[ExitR.H.
Dove.Well—now all the people have gone, I’ve something to say—and something that I mean, too; I won’t be taken up, as I always am, before people.
Mrs. Dove.What do you mean, Henry, by being taken up?
Dove.Why—altering my pronounciation every minute, as you do.
Mrs. Dove.How can I calmly sit and hear my husband commit himself in every syllable that he utters? respect for you and for myself, renders it necessary that I should correct you.
Dove.Well, I don’t like it—and I warn you not toresultme again.
Mrs. Dove.Insultyou.
Dove.Well, insult me again—you know howwiolentI am when I’mexaggerated.
Mrs. Dove.When you’re exasperated.
Dove.Well, what’s it matter! you perfectly compromise my meaning.
Mrs. Dove.Henry—Henry—I will not hear you make use of such language. Had I been aware that you were so illiterate—I would have broken my heart ere I would have married you—
Dove.Yes—you never used to find fault with my language when we used to sit under the apple-tree of an evening.
Mrs. Dove.That I should not have seen the absurdity of uniting myself with one so opposite to me!
Dove.Opposite to you!—you never would let me be opposite to you; you was never easy but when I was by your side; you know you wasn’t!
Mrs. Dove.But love is blind——
Dove.Yes, and deaf too, if I may judge from my own situation; just as if you couldn’t have found out my pronounciation then as well as now. I know’d there was a greatcontractbetween us.
Mrs. Dove.Contrast! besides, you are so stupid; you could not, during dinner, hear a bell or a knock at the door, but you must be running to answer it. I sat on thorns for you.
Dove.Well, then, that was werry kind of you. I wouldn’t do such a thing for my father; but don’t call me stupid—if you talk of bad language, what’s that, I wonder? Good bye!—you wont see me again, in a hurry.
Mrs. Dove.Where are you going?
Dove.I don’t know where I’m going, nor I don’t care; you’ve wounded me in a tenderpint.
Mrs. Dove.Point!——
Dove.Point!—and I don’t care if I never see you again.
Mrs. Dove.(Taking his hand.)—Henry!
Dove.Let go my hand, Martha; I mean what I say; and don’t follow me, because I wont be follow’d.
Mrs. Dove.You cannot intend to be so base?
Dove.I do—you’ve put me in a passion, and when I am in a passion I’mdissolute.
[Exit,R.H.
Mrs. Dove.Resolute!—(calling after him)—Cruel Henry! I shall faint—Help! Henry!—Water!—oh! oh!—(She faints in a chair, and the drop falls.)
END OFACTII.