ACT II.SCENE—Handsomely furnished Apartment at Mr. Larkings’. Large folding doors atC.,shewing Ball-room within illuminated and decorated; handsome clock, with practical hands,R.C.;dance music heard from inner room, when door is open; doors,R.andL.Very loud double knock heard.MAID. (outside) This way if you please, ladies.EnterMRS. CARVERandMRS. WOODCOCK,atL.,preceded byLADY’SMAID—theLADIESare both in very fashionable evening costume, opera cloaks, &c., &c.MRS. C. (as she enters, and turning to wing) Now, Mr. Woodcock, we’re waiting for you.WOOD. (without) Here I am, Mrs. Carver.EnterWOODCOCK,L.,he has a crush hat on, a shawl round his neck, an Inverness cape, and carries a large bouquet in each hand—he is also in an elaborate evening dress.MRS. C. At last! I thought you were never coming!WOOD. (who looks miserable and in a sulky tone) You wouldn’t have me rush into a gentleman’s drawing room as if I’d got a wild bull at my heels?MAID. Allow me, madam. (taking offMRS. WOODCOCK’Scloak)MRS. C. Now, Marmy, make yourself useful! (motioning him to take off her cloak)WOOD. Eh? oh, I know! (taking hold ofMRS. CARVER’Scloak behind and giving it a violent tug)MRS. C. How clumsy you are to be sure! (MAIDassists in taking off her cloak)MAID. Here’s the ticket, madam. (presenting ticket)WOOD. Wait a minute, young woman! (putting both the bouquets under his arm)MRS. C. What are you doing? (taking the bouquets and arranging them)WOOD. (toMAID) Here’s my hat—here’s my comforter—here’s my Inverness cape—(giving the articles to her)—and, now, give me a ticket for the lot?MAID. Here it is, sir, No. 81. (giving ticket)WOOD. 81? it’s 18!MAID. No, sir, you’ve got it upside down! (MAIDgoes out with things,R.)WOOD. I see! One’s obliged to be particular, because at the very last dinner party I was at, I got a ticket No. 9 in exchange for a bran-new brown silk umbrella; and when I asked for my bran-new brown silk umbrella in exchange for ticket No. 9, they told me that ticket No. 9 was ticket No. 6, and handed me one American overshoe and a walking stick.MRS. W. Do, mamma, arrange the flowers in my coronet.MRS. C. They’re all right, my dear; that’s more than I can say for my dress! only see how Marmy has rumpled it! (smoothing dress)WOOD. (C.) Me? come, I like that! considering I had to ride outside, if I rumpled any body, it must have been the coachman!MRS. C. Now, my dear, I think we may venture into the ball room!MRS. W. Without our fans and gloves, mamma?MRS. C. Marmy has got them.WOOD. (L.) Eh? yes. (feeling in his pockets) No, I haven’t.MRS. C. Nonsense, you put them in your pocket, you must have them somewhere about you!WOOD. If I have, they must have slipped down into my boots! Would you like me to take off my boots? (sulkily)MRS. C. I dare say you’ve dropped them.WOOD. No, I’m positive I didn’t drop them. (aside) I flung ’em away!MRS. C. How careless of you! what’s to be done?WOOD. Well, it strikes me there’s only one thing to be done—go home again. (hurrying to door,R.,and calling out) Ticket No. 18! No. 81! two opera cloaks, one hat, one comforter, one Inverness cape.EnterMRS. LARKINGS,atC.,in fashionable evening dress.—LADIESandGENTLEMENare seen promenading within—Music.MRS. L. (seeing the ladies) Ah! you’ve arrived at last, I quite began to despair of you.WOOD. (still at doorR.,he has got the two opera cloaks, the hat, and the comforter, and is holding up and examining an Inverness cape) Holloa! this isn’t my Inverness cape! I’ll take my oath this is not my Inverness cape!MRS. L. Why! What is Mr. Woodcock about?MRS. W. (plaintively) Getting our things together to go home! He’s either lost or mislaid our fans and gloves!MRS. L. What of that! I can supply you with no end of fans, and dozens of pairs of gloves!MRS. C.}Oh, thank you—thank you!MRS. W.(WOODCOCK,who overhears this, rolls all the things together in a lump and flings them back into the room with disgust)MRS. L. But what makes you so late?MRS. C. Oh! it was entirely Marmy’s fault.WOOD. (sulkily) Of course—of course it was Marmy’s fault!MRS. W. You can’t deny it, Mr. Woodcock. You must know—(toMRS. LARKINGS)—that I had bought this coronet expressly for your ball to-night, but when I wanted it to put it on, it had disappeared! (MRS. LARKINGSlooks aside atWOODCOCK—puts on a look of innocence)MRS. C. Yes! We hunted for it everywhere. At last where do think it was found? In Marmy’s writing desk! ha, ha, ha!WOOD. (forcing a loud laugh) Ha, ha, ha!MRS. C. Poor fellow! he remembered afterwards putting it there to prevent its being lost.WOOD. (very quickly) Yes!MRS. L. Indeed! (looking atWOODCOCK) Some people might imagine it was to prevent its being found!MRS. C.andMRS. W. (C.) Oh, no—no!WOOD. Oh, no—no! (aside) As I have observed two or three times already, what Larkings could ever have seen in that woman——EnterDAVID,atL.,as a page.DAVID. Please, sir, coachman says you didn’t tell him what time he’s to come with the carriage.MRS. W. (R.) Now, remember, Mr. Woodcock, you promised me faithfully that we shouldn’t be late—say half past two.WOOD. Very well! (toDAVID) A quarter past two,MRS. W. I said, half-past! (smiling)WOOD. (shouting,L.) Half-past!ExitDAVID,L.MRS. C. Yes! We really must have a good night’s rest, or we shall not be fit for the fancy dress ball to-morrow. (toMRS. LARKINGS) We’ve settled our costume, my dear! Caroline is going as Little Red Riding Hood, Marmy as a Neapolitan brigand—(WOODCOCKmakes a wry face)—and I—à la Pompadour!WOOD. (aside) I don’t exactly know what apumpadooris, but I hope it’s something decent! (dance music again heard)MRS. L. Come, ladies! by-the-bye, I mustn’t forget your fans and gloves—this way! you’ll find us in the ball room in less than five minutes, Mr. Woodcock, this way.ExeuntMRS. LARKINGS, MRS. CARVER,andMRS. WOODCOCKat door,C.toL.—door closed.WOOD. That attempt of mine upon Mrs. Woodcock’s coronet was a contemptible failure. (yawning) I wonder if I shall ever have a good night’s rest again! Never mind, I’ll make up for it when I get back to Stow-on-the-Wold—if ever I do get back; I won’t get up for a month! I believe Mrs. Woodcock would go back if it wasn’t for Carver. I wish somebody would marry Carver! I’ll give any man a thousand pounds if he’ll marry—and after all, Carver’s not absolutely repulsive—and I’m sure there’s plenty of her for the money.EnterSWANSDOWNin evening dress atC.fromL.SWANS. (going to doorR.,and taking ticket out of his pocket) Ticket No. 37. (MAIDappears, takes ticket, and disappears)WOOD. Why, that’s Swansdown! he’s actually giving up his ticket!SWANS. (seeingWOODCOCK) Ah, Woodcock! how d’ye do? (receiving a hat and cloak fromMAID,and coming forward putting them on) That’ll do! Good night, Woodcock! (crosses toL.)WOOD. Stop a bit! you don’t mean to say you’re going home, Swansdown?SWANS. Of course I am! I ought to have been in bed two hours ago. (yawning)WOOD. So ought I! (yawning) I say, Swansdown, how do you manage it?SWANS. Manage what?WOOD. To go home without Mrs. Swansdown?SWANS. I leave her behind!WOOD. Exactly—but—how do you manage to leave her behind?SWANS. I go home without her!WOOD. I see!SWANS. Good night! (going)WOOD. (stopping him again) Don’t be in a hurry!SWANS. I am so sleepy! (yawning)WOOD. So am I. (yawning)SWANS. The fact is, Woodcock, (yawning,WOODCOCKdoes the same) before I got married, I had seen a good deal of this sort of fun. (yawning very loud)WOOD. So had I! (yawning very loud)SWANS. In short, I married, not to go out, but to stop at home! (yawning)WOOD. (yawning) So did I! but how do you manage it?SWANS. Manage what?WOOD. Why, to stop at home?SWANS. I don’t go out!WOOD. Exactly—but how do you manage to “don’t go out?”SWANS. I stop at home.WOOD. I see!SWANS. I hit on a very simple plan! I had a regular stock of sudden indispositions to meet every invitation that came in; headaches, rheumatisms, lumbagoes, &c., &c., Mrs. Swansdown grumbled a good deal at first, but she soon got used to it, and——WOOD. (suddenly graspingSWANSDOWN’Shand, and shaking it violently) Thank you, Swansdown! I’m obliged to you, Swansdown! good night, Swansdown. (stopping him again) One moment—when you married Mrs. Swansdown, had she got a Carver?SWANS. A what?WOOD. A Carver—I mean, a mother?SWANS. No!WOOD. Never mind! Good night, Swansdown! Go home to bed, Swansdown!ExitSWANSDOWN,L.I’ll try it! I will, by Jove! there’s that horrible fancy dress ball to-morrow night! what “sudden indisposition” shall I have—I’ve had the measles——EnterLARKINGSatC.in very fashionable evening costume.LARK. (R.C.,seeingWOODCOCK) Ah, Woodcock! All alone, eh? I’m afraid you’re not enjoying yourself?WOOD. (L.C.) Yes, I am—in a quiet way!LARK. Delightful party, eh? By-the-bye—I congratulate you—your wife is really a very nice sort of person—very nice, indeed! (in a patronizing tone) but her dancing has been sadly neglected. However, make yourself easy, I’ve engaged her for the next three polkas on purpose to teach her the proper step!WOOD. Have you?LARK. After that I’m engaged to Mrs. Swansdown for the rest of the evening. Swansdown’s gone home as usual! ha, ha! poor Swansdown! “when the cat’s away,” you know, eh? ha, ha!WOOD. (drawing himself up) Mr. Christopher Larkings!LARK. Come, come, Woodcock—that grave face won’t do with me, besides, it isn’t because I flirt with my friend’s wives that I love them! I flirt with yours, but I don’t love her, at least, not yet! ha, ha! but I say, old fellow, don’t follow Swansdown’s example—what can a man on the wrong side of forty expect if he will go home to bed and leave a pretty young wife behind him, eh? ha, ha! (pokingWOODCOCKin the side)WOOD. Sir! my friend, Swansdown, has too much confidence——LARK. (laughing) Of course he has, that’s the delicious part of it, ha, ha! I say, Woodcock. (taking his arm, and aside to him) I don’t mind telling you—and after all, I meant no harm—but when Mrs. Larkings went down to your wedding at—what d’ye call the place—Toad in the Hole——WOOD. Stow-on-the-Wold, sir! (with dignity)LARK. No matter! well, I suddenly remarked what a fascinating person she was——WOOD. Mrs. Larkings?LARK. No, Mrs. Swansdown! I used to say all sorts of stupid things to her——WOOD. That I’ll be bound to say you did; well, there’s no great harm in that!LARK. No, but that’s not all—not that I meant any harm—well, after a luncheon of grilled chicken and champagne, this afternoon—I don’t know how the deuce it happened, but I’ve a sort of stupid, misty recollection of writing a stupid sort of letter, full of doves and loves, and Cupid’s darts and bleeding hearts—you know what I mean—which letter, I’m under a very strong impression, Mrs. Swansdown will find on her dressing table when she gets home to-night.WOOD. Mr. Larkings!LARK. Yes, yes, it was a stupid thing to do, I know, and I heartily wish I had the confounded letter back, but it’s too late now, and after all, I meant no harm. (polka music heard) There’s the polka! I mustn’t keep Mrs. Woodcock waiting. Good bye! (going)WOOD. Stop!LARKINGSruns out atC.toL.Catch me leaving Mrs. Woodcock alone for a single moment! No, no, I’ll stick to her like her shadow. I’ll revel in Redowas! I’ll plunge into polkas! I’ll have a shy at the sausages—I mean Schottisches! (here the polka music becomes louder) I don’t half like my wife’s skipping about with that fellow now; if I could only manage to get her away. (looking at clock, which is in a conspicuous part of the stage) Only a quarter past one. (after a short pause) That clock’s too slow. (lounging up stage, assuming an unconcerned manner and humming a tune—when near the clock, looks right and left, then jumps up into a chair, puts the clock on one hour, and jumps off chair again—then taking out his watch) Hey-day! my watch is an hour too slow by that clock, and I know there isn’t a better clock in England. (putting his watch on an hour, then hastily thrusting it into his pocket, aside) Just in time!EnterMRS. WOODCOCK,atC.fromL.MRS. W. Still here, my dear? Why don’t you come into the ball-room?WOOD. I will presently—there’s plenty of time! It’s quite early yet! (seeing that he is standing betweenMRS. WOODCOCKand the clock, moves aside) I repeat, it’squite early yet!(pointedly, and looking at clock)MRS. W. (seeing clock) Eh? Can it be possible? Twenty minutes past two?WOOD. Oh! that clock’s too fast! Look here! (taking out his watch) Holloa! Why it’s half-past two! That clock’s too slow.MRS. W. How the time slips away!WOOD. Yes! the last hour’s gone remarkably fast.Music—some five or six couples, includingMRS. LARKINGSandMRS. CARVER,come in atC.,dancing the polka—the last couple consisting ofMRS. CARVERand a veryYOUNGMAN—polka ceases.WOOD. (who has gone to door,L.) Ticket No. 81—two opera cloaks—a hat—a comforter—an Inverness cape!MRS. C. Why! What is Marmy about? (toMRS. WOODCOCK)MRS. W. Look at the clock, mamma!MRS. C. Half-past two!EnterLARKINGS,atC.fromL.LARK. What’s that? Half-past two? No such thing, gentlemen—I appeal to you! Out with your watches! (LARKINGSandGENTLEMENtake out their watches—each presenting his to hisLADY)LARK.}Half-past one!GENTS.MRS. W. Another hour! Delightful!MRS. C. Charming! (polka music resumed) Mrs. Woodcock, allow me. (polka—MRS. CARVERseizing her former partner and whirling him out after the others, atC.toL.)WOOD. (who has been standing looking on with the opera cloaks, &c., &c., in his arms—dashes them down in alump on the stage) That’s a failure! Then I won’t go home at all! I’ll sleep here! (seizing up the cloaks, &c., and dashing them one after the other on the sofa,L.C.,and then throwing himself upon them) There! (burying his head in the pillow) This is very comfortable——SWANSDOWNhurries in, atL.,very pale and excited.SWANS. (as he enters) Woodcock! Woodcock! (seeing him on sofa) Ah, there he is! (shaking him) Woodcock, get up!WOOD. (jumping up) Halloa, Swansdown, come back again!SWANS. (with a savage grin,R.) Yes! ha, ha, ha! (with a forced laugh)WOOD. (L.) Don’t make such dreadful faces! What’s the matter?SWANS. Matter? (furiously and grimacing)WOOD. Don’t grind your teeth in that horrible way. Recollect they’re not your own!SWANS. Listen! (graspingWOODCOCK’Sarm) On my return home, I found Mrs. Swansdown’s maid in Mrs. Swansdown’s room fast asleep! Something was lying on the dressing table! It was a letter!WOOD. (aside) Larkings’s billet!SWANS. Yes! A letter for Mrs. Swansdown, from—from—fiends and furies!WOOD. I don’t know either of the gentlemen.SWANS. From Larkings! Christopher Larkings! There was no signature; but I knew the handwriting! It was a declaration—a declaration! Don’t you hear? (shouting)WOOD. Yes—yes! Well!SWANS. I rushed into my library—opened my desk—took out my duelling pistols—put them in my pocket, and—here I am! (savagely and walking to and fro)WOOD. (following him) Pistols? Oh, I say, Swansdown—Swansdown! Oh, I say!SWANS. (stopping suddenly) Larkings dies!WOOD. Yes; but don’t—don’t go and cut him off in the flower of his polka—I mean, his youth!SWANS. Ah! here comes Mrs. Larkings! She shall know all!EnterMRS. LARKINGS,atC.fromL.WOOD. No—no! (holdingSWANSDOWNback, who tries to joinMRS. LARKINGS)MRS. L. (R.) Still here, Mr. Swansdown, then I shall claim you for my partner in the polka!WOOD. (aside toSWANSDOWN) A thousand pardons, madam——MRS. L. Refuse a lady? Fie—nay, I insist upon it!(polka music without—SWANSDOWNbegins very unwillingly to dance withMRS. LARKINGS—WOODCOCKanxiously following them and dancing a polka steps after them)MRS. L. (while dancing) Besides, Mr. Larkings is dancing with Mrs. Swansdown!SWANS. Ah! (polking savagely)MRS. L. Yes, fourth time to-night!WOOD. (still dancing after them, and aside toMRS. LARKINGS) Don’t tell him that, mum—don’t tell him that!MRS. L. Luckily, I’m not jealous! Christopher is constancy itself!SWANS. (savagely) Is he? Ha, ha!WOOD. (still dancing after them, and aside toSWANSDOWN) Hush, Swansdown, hush!MRS. L. Yes, any woman has my full permission to wean Christopher’s affections from me, if she can!WOOD. (still polking by their side, and aside toMRS. LARKINGS) Don’t aggravate him, mum—don’t aggravate him!SWANS. Indeed! What if I place in your hands the proof of your husband’s infidelity?WOOD. (same play) Hush, Swansdown!MRS. L. Ha, ha! I defy you!WOOD. (same play) Don’t defy him, mum, don’t defy him.SWANS. Indeed! then that proof shall be in your hands in half an hour.WOOD. (same play) Hush, Swansdown!SWANS. A letter! a declaration! addressed to my wife by—your husband!MRS. L. (suddenly stopping) Christopher unfaithful!Support me! (falling intoWOODCOCK’Sarms, who quite bewildered goes on dancing the polka)EnterMRS. CARVER,C.fromL.MRS. C. (seeingMRS. LARKINGSinWOODCOCK’Sarm) Ah! Support me! (falling intoWOODCOCK’Sother arm, who, still more bewildered, unconsciously keeps up a polka step)EnterLARKINGS,C.fromL.LARK. Ah! (about to run toMRS. LARKINGS)SWANS. (stopping him) One moment! (drags him forward—then, savagely aside to him) We must fight, sir. I know all! all!LARK. (aside) The devil! (aloud) Well, sir, to-morrow morning!SWANS. No! Now! Now! it’s a moonlight night! Primrose Hill close at hand, and I’ve pistols in my pocket! Woodcock! (toWOODCOCK,who has placedMRS. LARKINGSandMRS. CARVEReach in a chair and is fanning them alternately, still dancing a polka step—SWANSDOWNgoes up, seizesWOODCOCKby the arm, and drags him down—aside to him) You’ll be my second? I’m going to shoot Larkings!LARK. (graspingWOODCOCK’Sother arm) You’ll be my second? I’m going to shoot Swansdown!SWANS.}Come!LARK.They dragWOODCOCKout between them atL., WOODCOCKstruggling, &c.MRS. C. (who recovers and runs toMRS. LARKINGS) My dear Mrs. Larkings, look up, there’s a dear creature.MRS. L. Oh, oh, oh! (sobbing) I’m the most miserable woman in the world!MRS. C. (soothingly) So you shall be, there! but what has happened?MRS. L. (C.) My husband—Christopher has written a love letter to Mrs. Swansdown! Oh, the base, fickle, perfidious monster!MRS. C. (R.C.) My dear friend, never indulge in a plurality of epithets; select one, a good one, and stick to it! Inever called Carver anything but a brute! But are you sure?MRS. L. Quite certain! Mr. Swansdown has promised to send me the letter in half an hour; if it contains the proof of Christopher’s inconstancy, oh, what shall I do?MRS. C. Nothing, ’till Mr. Swansdown has sent you the letter——MRS. L. Very well! I’ll wait ’till the half hour has expired—patiently, very patiently, (tearing her handkerchief) if the letter doesn’t come, I’ll go to Mr. Swansdown for it—yes—late as it is, I will! and you’ll go with me, won’t you? (imploringly)MRS. C. Yes, we’ll go together; in the meantime, come with me into the ball room—everybody has doubtless left by this time, and you’ll find a glass or two of sherry and a few sponge cakes a great support in your affliction. Come!Exeunt atC.toL.—MRS. CARVERsupportingMRS. LARKINGS,at the same moment the door,L.,slowly opens, andWOODCOCKpeeps in, then speaks off.WOOD. The coast is clear; you can come in.EnterLARKINGSwith his right arm in a sling—SWANSDOWNfollowing, evidently very much out of temper—takes a chair, bangs it down on stage, and falls into it,L.LARK. (R.,pressing his right arm) How confoundedly painful my arm is.WOOD. (C.,soothingly) Yes! I daresay it smarts a little!SWANS. (dashing his hat down on stage) I’m disgusted! yes, disgusted that this stupid ridiculous duel should have occurred! (toLARKINGS) Why the deuce didn’t you tell me you were sorry for what you’d done—that you meant no harm? my feelings wouldn’t have been wounded!LARK. (pressing his wounded arm) Nor mine either! but that’s not the worst of it—if Mrs. Larkings discovers what has taken place, do you know what she’ll do? She’ll leave London and bury me alive in the country for the rest of my existence.WOOD. (aside) Good gracious! I wonder if Mrs. Woodcock would servemethe same ifIwere to—by jingo! it’s worth thinking about. (aloud) But howisMrs. Larkings to know anything about it?Ishan’t betray you—Swansdown won’t—you won’t betray yourself?LARK. No; but my wounded arm will! besides there’s that unlucky letter of mine, which Swansdown has promised to send to my wife.SWANS. (producing letter) Here it is. If Idon’tsend it, what can I say?WOOD. (taking the letter) Say? why—that you made a mistake in the handwriting—that it wasn’t Larkings’s after all!—but somebody else’s!—anybody’s—(suddenly)—Mine!LARK.and}Yours?SWANS.WOOD. Yes! What’s the consequence? When it’s known that you and I have been fighting, no one will imagine it’s on account of Mrs. Swansdown, consequently her reputation will be saved!SWANS. True! but zounds then! what have we been fighting about?WOOD. Eh? oh, for the fun of the thing! or else some difference of opinion—(suddenly)—the war in America! that’s the very thing! you’re for the Federates! I’m for the Confederals!—that’ll do famously—it’ll saveyou(toSWANSDOWN) from being laughed at;you(toLARKINGS) from being buried alive in the country.SWANS.}And you?LARK.WOOD. Never mind me. Woodcock’s got a little game of his own. (aside) It’s a capital idea—a sublime idea! (toSWANSDOWN) Now go home; and spread the report of our duel right and left; mention it at your butcher’s, baker’s, and candlestick maker’s—in short everywhere; and don’t forget you’re a Confederal—I mean—never mind; go along.SWANSDOWNhurries out atL.LARK. But I say, what the deuce is to become of me in the matter?WOOD. Eh? I have it; you’ve been my second.LARK. Very well? then I can go to Mrs. Larkings.WOOD. Yes. Stop! take that sling off.LARK. Well, but——WOOD. Take it off, I say!LARK. (taking off sling and fitting his arm in his waistcoat, with evident pain) There! and now give me that confounded letter of mine.WOOD. Oh dear, no! I can’t spare that. (taking letter out of envelope and reading) “To see you is to love you.” (aside) And to think I’ve got to copy such twaddle as that. (listening) Hark! I hear some one. You know what you’ve got to do; don’t go and make a mess of it. (aside) And I got married to settle down quietly—it looks like it! Never mind; Woodcock’s got his little game!Hurries out atL.EnterMRS. LARKINGSandMRS. CARVER,C.LARK. (assuming an air of unconcern) Ah, my dear!MRS. L. (R.—extending her arm) Keep your distance, sir. I know all—all! In a word, I am now going to Mr. Swansdown’s—you hear—to Mr. Swansdown’s, for a certain letter—a love letter, sir, written by you to Mrs. Swansdown.LARK. (C.) By me! Ha, ha, ha! I should like to see it. Go and fetch it, my dear; why don’t you go for it, my love? Tra, la, la! (humming a tune)EnterDAVID,L.DAVID. (toMRS. LARKINGS) Please, ma’am. (aside) Don’t let me forget what master told me to say. (aloud) Here be a letter, ma’am, from Mr. Swan—Swan——MRS. L. (eagerly) Swansdown? give it me? (snatching letter fromDAVID,but keeping her eyes fixed onLARKINGS,who tries to appear unconcerned, and endeavours to get up a whistle) You may go, David!ExitDAVID,L.LARK. (aside) Woodcock’s gone and bungled the business—I knew he would. (MRS. LARKINGStears open the envelope) She’s opened it; it’s all over with me!MRS. L. (reading) “To see you is to love you.” (suddenly) Eh! can it be? yes! yes! (with an exclamation of joy, and throwing her arms roundLARKINGS) Oh, my dear, darling Christopher!LARK. (suffering pain in his arm, and trying to disengage himself—aside) Confound it! how she’s hurting me!MRS. C. What do you mean?MRS. L. That I’m the happiest woman in the world—that Christopher is innocent! (throws her arms again round him)LARK. Don’t! don’t!MRS. C. Innocent?MRS. L. Yes, as a lamb! the letter isn’t in his handwriting—look! (giving letter toMRS. C.,and making another spring atLARKINGS,who keeps her off)MRS. C. (reading letter) “To see you is to——” (suddenly, and with a violent scream) Ah!MRS. L.andLARK. (startled) What’s the matter?MRS. C. (after a pause gives another louder scream) Ah! the wretch! the monster!MRS. L. Who? who?MRS. C. Woodcock! the handwriting ishis!(LARKINGSlaughs aside) Ah! (another loud scream)LARK. Hush! you’ll alarm the neighbourhood.MRS. C. (L.C.) I don’t care—I must scream! I shall die if I don’t scream! take me somewhere where I can scream!MRS. L. Hush! for Caroline’s sake.MRS. C. True! she must know nothing—and yet I must scream. I’ll go out in the street and scream.MRS. L. Hush! had you not better take poor Caroline home on some pretext or other!MRS. C. I will! and then I’ll come back and kill Woodcock. I’ll send for a cab this moment!MRS. L. Pray be cautious.MRS. C. I will! but I shall suffocate if I don’t scream—I have it—I’ll scream in the cab! (hurries out,C.)MRS. L. (with an imploring look atLARKINGS) Oh, can you forgive me?LARK. (in a patronizing tone) Yes, yes!MRS. L. Dearest, best of Christophers— (suddenly embracing him again)LARK. Don’t! don’t!MRS. L. How could I suspect you? but isn’t this dreadful conduct of Mr. Woodcock’s! actually before the honeymoon is over!LARK. Very shocking, indeed.MRS. L. The man ought to be put in the pillory!LARK. At the very least.MRS. L. Ah! (tenderly) you wouldn’t deceive your fond confiding wife? (affectionately putting her arm in his wounded one)LARK. (making a grimace) Not for the world!EnterDAVID,L.DAVID. (in a flurried manner) Oh please, ma’am, a policeman has just rang at our bell——MRS. L. A policeman?DAVID. Yes, ma’am; seeing we hadn’t gone to bed, he called to say that as he was going over Primrose Hill, about a quarter of an hour ago (LARKINGSpricks up his ears) he picked up this card case, ma’am! (LARKINGShastily fumbles in all his pockets)LARK. (aside) Mine, by Jupiter!DAVID. So he opens it, ma’am, and—(toLARKINGSwho is making violent signs to him to hold his tongue) What’s the matter, sir? (MRS. LARKINGSturns towardsLARKINGS,who again tries to get up a whistle)MRS. L. But why bring it to our home?DAVID. Because it’s Mr. Larkings’s card case, ma’am!MRS. L. (toLARKINGS,suspiciously) So you’ve been to Primrose Hill, it seems?LARK. (bothered) Yes—the fact is—the rooms were so hot—and—never having seen the sun set—I mean the moon rise—I—(aside) I’d better hold my tongue.MRS. L. (after a searching look at him) Where did the man say he picked this card case up?DAVID. Where the shooting took place, ma’am.MRS. L. The shooting?DAVID. Yes, ma’am. (seeingLARKINGSagain making signals to him) Yes, sir! (MRS. LARKINGSlooks round andLARKINGSagain assumes an air of unconcern) He heard two shots, ma’am—bang, bang; and ran to the spot just in time to see three gentlemen walking off; and——(during thisLARKINGShas been again repeating his signals to him)MRS. L. You can go, David.ExitDAVID,atL.Larkings! (eagerly to him) what does this mean? Speak, Christopher—what has happened? (graspingLARKINGS’Sarm, who makes a grimace) Ah! you needn’t explain; I see it all—there has been a duel?LARK. (L.) Well——MRS. L. (C.) Don’t speak; between Mr. Swansdown and you.LARK. No, no.MRS. L. Who then? He believed thatyouwrote the letter to his wife?LARK. Yes, yes.MRS. L. And challenged you?LARK. Yes, yes.MRS. L. And you fought?LARK. Yes—no, no.MRS. L. Yes, yes—no, no. Explain! No! I see it all.LARK. (aside) She’s always seeing it all! (crosses toR.)MRS. L. When you got on the ground, Mr. Woodcock, who was probably your second——LARK. My second! yes—exactly.MRS. L. Confessed that he was the real culprit——LARK. (quickly) That’s it.MRS. L. And received Mr. Swansdown’s fire——LARK. In the arm.MRS. L. Wounded! Mr. Woodcock wounded!LARK. Yes. (recollecting) No; that is—— (aside) Zounds! nothing was said aboutthat.MRS. L. Poor Mr. Woodcock! Which arm was it?LARK. Eh—why—the arm that held the sword!MRS. L. The sword!LARK. Yes—no, I mean the pistol! (aside) Now to find Woodcock, and put him on his guard. (turns and seesWOODCOCK,who enters atL.,with his left arm in a sling—aside) Huzzah! he’s got his arm in a sling!MRS. L. (looking atWOODCOCK,who comes slowly forward, as if very much ashamed of himself) It is true, then. Unhappy man, I pity you!WOOD. (assuming a very penitential voice and manner) I don’t deserve it.LARK. (aside) Confound it! he’s got thewrongarm inthe sling! Ahem! (making violent signs toWOODCOCKtochange arms)MRS. L. (looking atWOODCOCK) Why, how’s this? (toLARKINGS) You told me Mr. Woodcock’s wound was in the right arm!LARK. (confused,R.) Did I?MRS. L. Yes—you distinctly said “the arm that held the pistol.”WOOD. (very quietly,C.) That’s quite right! I’m a left-handed Woodcock.MRS. L. (L.) It’s very shocking! but there’s something worse behind.WOOD. (looking behind him) Where?MRS. L. I mean that Mrs. Colonel Carver knows everything. She’ll return immediately; when she’s done screaming, your only hope is to plead guilty at once and sue for pardon for Caroline’s sake—you know that’s her tender point!WOOD. I will! I’ll throw myself at once upon her tender point.MRS. C. (without) Don’t tell me! I can’t—I won’t believe it!EnterMRS. CARVER,hurriedly,R.,and seesWOODCOCKwith his arm in the sling.MRS. C. (assuming a very pathetic attitude) Ah! it’s true! (screams and falls into chair,MRS. LARKINGSruns to her—WOODCOCKandLARKINGSexchange winks and laugh)MRS. L. (toMRS. C.) Hush! the arm is only slightly, very slightly wounded.MRS. C. I know better! they’ll have to amputate it! I shall have a one-armed son-in-law—a wretched, helpless cripple! (suddenly toMRS. LARKINGS) My dear friend, go to poor dear Caroline—don’t leave her till I’ve had time to do all my screaming! I know I screamed in the cab, but not half enough! Go, go!ExitMRS. LARKINGS,C.,followed byLARKINGS,who again exchanges winks, &c., withWOODCOCK.MRS. C. (watching them out and then turning toWOODCOCK,who looks at her and then turns his head away as if ashamed of himself) Am I awake? or is it a dream—anightmare? No! there he stands—at least, all that is left of him. Oh, Marmy! (sobbing loudly and burying her face in her handkerchief)WOOD. (R.) Oh, Carver! (imitatingMRS. CARVER)MRS. C. (indignantly) So, sir! Scarce ten days married to the sweetest, the gentlest of her sex, you actually have the audacity to indite a declaration of love to another woman—a married woman too! (suddenly bursting again into sobbing) Oh, Marmy!WOOD. Oh, Carver! (same play)MRS. C. (L.) I couldn’t have believed it! (ditto)WOOD. No, more could I! (ditto) You’ve done it, Carver! Youwouldbring me to London, and what’s the result?—that I’m a lost Woodcock. (in a tone of pretended anguish)MRS. C. Oh, Marmy! (sobbing very loud)WOOD. Oh, Carver! (ditto)MRS. C. But no! you can’t be utterly depraved in so short a time!WOOD. Yes, I am! I feel I’m rapidly settling down into an atrocious profligate, and I can’t help it! That’s the melancholy part of it, I can’t help it! You’ve done it, Carver, youwouldbring me to London!MRS. C. Oh, Marmy! (a fresh burst of sobbing)WOOD. Oh, Carver! (ditto)MRS. C. (suddenly) There’s only one thing to be done! go back at once to Stow-on-the-Wold, (WOODCOCKwinks, aside) and there, with your dear Caroline——WOOD. (putting on a very excited manner) It’s too late now; if you had let me stop at Stow-on-the-Wold, I should have been perfectly satisfied with my “dear Caroline;” but you would bring me to London—you know you would, and what’s the result? that one dear Caroline isn’t enough for me! I must have a dozen—two dozen—three dozen “dear Carolines!” an unlimited quantity of “dear Carolines!!” (very wildly)MRS. C. (indignantly) Silence! reprobate!WOOD. Gently, Carver! gently! I’m not going to be bullied! dash my wig if I am!MRS. C. Mr. Woodcock!WOOD. I can’t help it! You’ve done it, Carver! Ilove!—I adore the whole sex!You’rea fine woman, Carver!—I loveyou!—Come to my arms, Carver! (making a rush open-armed atMRS. CARVER,who,alarmed, avoids him)MRS. C. (alarmed) The man’s mad! I’m ashamed of you!WOOD. So am I! But you would bring me to London! you know you would! (trying again to throw his arms round her)MRS. C. Help!EnterMAIDSERVANT,running,R.Oh, Susan! (running to her)WOOD. Oh, that’s Susan, is it? Lovely Susan! embrace your Woodcock! (rushes with open arms atSUSAN,who, alarmed, rushes out screaming)MRS. C. (clasping her hands) And this is my work!WOOD. Yes, you’ve done it Carver! never mind; don’t cry, old girl! (throwing his arm roundMRS. CARVER’Sneck)MRS. C. Oh, Marmy, Marmy, if you’ve any love for Caroline, leave this wicked, abominable, detestable town this very morning by the very first train, and go back to Stow-on-the-Wold—I implore! I entreat you!WOOD. (after a pretended struggle with himself, then smiling benignantly) Carver, your tears have conquered! do with me as you will. (throws himself into her arms and makes a wry face over her shoulder, then looking towardsL.) Swansdown! what the deuce can he want? (retiring to back asSWANSDOWNenters,L.)SWANS. (as he enters) It’s all right, Woodcock—— (seeingMRS. CARVER) Madam—I——MRS. C. Mr. Swansdown, I know all; your duel with my unhappy son-in-law——SWANS. (aside) Bravo! she’s on the wrong scent. (aloud) Well, madam, I presume I have as much right to sympathize with the Federals as he has with the Confederates?WOOD. (who has been trying to attractSWANSDOWN’Snotice by making signals) He’s made a mess of it! I knew he would.MRS. C. Federals—Confederates! I see—a subterfuge to conceal therealcause of your quarrel. You may relyon receiving a letter of apology—ample apology from Mr. Woodcock!SWANS. Not till he’s recovered the use of his right arm, I beg.WOOD. (behind) Eh? of course; it was therightarm! (taking his left arm out of the sling and inserting the right)MRS. C. Therightarm, you mean theleft.(WOODCOCKchanges arms again)SWANS. The right! I think I ought to know.MRS. C. The left! I suppose I can believe my eyes.SWANS. Right!MRS. C. Left!SWANS. Right!}(louder)MRS. C. Left!WOOD. (who has kept on changing arms rapidly) Oh, bother! there! (stuffing both arms into the sling)EnterMRS. LARKINGShurriedly, atC.fromL.MRS. L. (running toWOODCOCK) She’s here—Caroline! she’s heard of the duel; that you are wounded in the right arm—(WOODCOCKwho has both arms in the sling, draws out the left) though of course I knew it was the left, (WOODCOCKchanges arms again) when luckily—I don’t know how it came into my head—I told her it was not her husband but mine who—she’s here—don’t undeceive her; but first off with this. (dragging the sling violently offWOODCOCK’Sneck)EnterMRS. WOODCOCK,hurriedlyC.fromL.MRS. W. (running toWOODCOCK) You are not wounded? it was not you then—Oh, I’m so happy! (hereLARKINGSappears atC.)MRS. L. (seeing him, runs to him and flings the sling over his neck) Hush, not a word! (taking hold of his right arm and thrusting it violently into the sling)LARK. (crying out with pain) Oh!MRS. L. (aside to him) That’s right—pretend it hurts you! (leading him down) Here is the real culprit; but as he is sufficiently punished already, I forgive him. (aside toLARKINGS,who is about to speak) Hush! You’ll haveto wear the sling for a week. I’ll tell you why another time!LARK. With all my heart. (aside toWOODCOCKshaking his hand) Thanks to you, my wife suspects nothing!SWANS. (aside, toWOODCOCK,and shakingWOODCOCK’Sother hand) Thanks to you, no one suspects mine!WOOD. And thanks to both of you, (shaking both their hands) I’m going back to Stow-on-the-Wold—that is, if our kind friends assure us that success has crowned “WOODCOCK’SLITTLEGAME!”Curtain.
SCENE—Handsomely furnished Apartment at Mr. Larkings’. Large folding doors atC.,shewing Ball-room within illuminated and decorated; handsome clock, with practical hands,R.C.;dance music heard from inner room, when door is open; doors,R.andL.Very loud double knock heard.
MAID. (outside) This way if you please, ladies.
EnterMRS. CARVERandMRS. WOODCOCK,atL.,preceded byLADY’SMAID—theLADIESare both in very fashionable evening costume, opera cloaks, &c., &c.
MRS. C. (as she enters, and turning to wing) Now, Mr. Woodcock, we’re waiting for you.
WOOD. (without) Here I am, Mrs. Carver.
EnterWOODCOCK,L.,he has a crush hat on, a shawl round his neck, an Inverness cape, and carries a large bouquet in each hand—he is also in an elaborate evening dress.
MRS. C. At last! I thought you were never coming!
WOOD. (who looks miserable and in a sulky tone) You wouldn’t have me rush into a gentleman’s drawing room as if I’d got a wild bull at my heels?
MAID. Allow me, madam. (taking offMRS. WOODCOCK’Scloak)
MRS. C. Now, Marmy, make yourself useful! (motioning him to take off her cloak)
WOOD. Eh? oh, I know! (taking hold ofMRS. CARVER’Scloak behind and giving it a violent tug)
MRS. C. How clumsy you are to be sure! (MAIDassists in taking off her cloak)
MAID. Here’s the ticket, madam. (presenting ticket)
WOOD. Wait a minute, young woman! (putting both the bouquets under his arm)
MRS. C. What are you doing? (taking the bouquets and arranging them)
WOOD. (toMAID) Here’s my hat—here’s my comforter—here’s my Inverness cape—(giving the articles to her)—and, now, give me a ticket for the lot?
MAID. Here it is, sir, No. 81. (giving ticket)
WOOD. 81? it’s 18!
MAID. No, sir, you’ve got it upside down! (MAIDgoes out with things,R.)
WOOD. I see! One’s obliged to be particular, because at the very last dinner party I was at, I got a ticket No. 9 in exchange for a bran-new brown silk umbrella; and when I asked for my bran-new brown silk umbrella in exchange for ticket No. 9, they told me that ticket No. 9 was ticket No. 6, and handed me one American overshoe and a walking stick.
MRS. W. Do, mamma, arrange the flowers in my coronet.
MRS. C. They’re all right, my dear; that’s more than I can say for my dress! only see how Marmy has rumpled it! (smoothing dress)
WOOD. (C.) Me? come, I like that! considering I had to ride outside, if I rumpled any body, it must have been the coachman!
MRS. C. Now, my dear, I think we may venture into the ball room!
MRS. W. Without our fans and gloves, mamma?
MRS. C. Marmy has got them.
WOOD. (L.) Eh? yes. (feeling in his pockets) No, I haven’t.
MRS. C. Nonsense, you put them in your pocket, you must have them somewhere about you!
WOOD. If I have, they must have slipped down into my boots! Would you like me to take off my boots? (sulkily)
MRS. C. I dare say you’ve dropped them.
WOOD. No, I’m positive I didn’t drop them. (aside) I flung ’em away!
MRS. C. How careless of you! what’s to be done?
WOOD. Well, it strikes me there’s only one thing to be done—go home again. (hurrying to door,R.,and calling out) Ticket No. 18! No. 81! two opera cloaks, one hat, one comforter, one Inverness cape.
EnterMRS. LARKINGS,atC.,in fashionable evening dress.—LADIESandGENTLEMENare seen promenading within—Music.
MRS. L. (seeing the ladies) Ah! you’ve arrived at last, I quite began to despair of you.
WOOD. (still at doorR.,he has got the two opera cloaks, the hat, and the comforter, and is holding up and examining an Inverness cape) Holloa! this isn’t my Inverness cape! I’ll take my oath this is not my Inverness cape!
MRS. L. Why! What is Mr. Woodcock about?
MRS. W. (plaintively) Getting our things together to go home! He’s either lost or mislaid our fans and gloves!
MRS. L. What of that! I can supply you with no end of fans, and dozens of pairs of gloves!
(WOODCOCK,who overhears this, rolls all the things together in a lump and flings them back into the room with disgust)
MRS. L. But what makes you so late?
MRS. C. Oh! it was entirely Marmy’s fault.
WOOD. (sulkily) Of course—of course it was Marmy’s fault!
MRS. W. You can’t deny it, Mr. Woodcock. You must know—(toMRS. LARKINGS)—that I had bought this coronet expressly for your ball to-night, but when I wanted it to put it on, it had disappeared! (MRS. LARKINGSlooks aside atWOODCOCK—puts on a look of innocence)
MRS. C. Yes! We hunted for it everywhere. At last where do think it was found? In Marmy’s writing desk! ha, ha, ha!
WOOD. (forcing a loud laugh) Ha, ha, ha!
MRS. C. Poor fellow! he remembered afterwards putting it there to prevent its being lost.
WOOD. (very quickly) Yes!
MRS. L. Indeed! (looking atWOODCOCK) Some people might imagine it was to prevent its being found!
MRS. C.andMRS. W. (C.) Oh, no—no!
WOOD. Oh, no—no! (aside) As I have observed two or three times already, what Larkings could ever have seen in that woman——
EnterDAVID,atL.,as a page.
DAVID. Please, sir, coachman says you didn’t tell him what time he’s to come with the carriage.
MRS. W. (R.) Now, remember, Mr. Woodcock, you promised me faithfully that we shouldn’t be late—say half past two.
WOOD. Very well! (toDAVID) A quarter past two,
MRS. W. I said, half-past! (smiling)
WOOD. (shouting,L.) Half-past!
ExitDAVID,L.
MRS. C. Yes! We really must have a good night’s rest, or we shall not be fit for the fancy dress ball to-morrow. (toMRS. LARKINGS) We’ve settled our costume, my dear! Caroline is going as Little Red Riding Hood, Marmy as a Neapolitan brigand—(WOODCOCKmakes a wry face)—and I—à la Pompadour!
WOOD. (aside) I don’t exactly know what apumpadooris, but I hope it’s something decent! (dance music again heard)
MRS. L. Come, ladies! by-the-bye, I mustn’t forget your fans and gloves—this way! you’ll find us in the ball room in less than five minutes, Mr. Woodcock, this way.
ExeuntMRS. LARKINGS, MRS. CARVER,andMRS. WOODCOCKat door,C.toL.—door closed.
WOOD. That attempt of mine upon Mrs. Woodcock’s coronet was a contemptible failure. (yawning) I wonder if I shall ever have a good night’s rest again! Never mind, I’ll make up for it when I get back to Stow-on-the-Wold—if ever I do get back; I won’t get up for a month! I believe Mrs. Woodcock would go back if it wasn’t for Carver. I wish somebody would marry Carver! I’ll give any man a thousand pounds if he’ll marry—and after all, Carver’s not absolutely repulsive—and I’m sure there’s plenty of her for the money.
EnterSWANSDOWNin evening dress atC.fromL.
SWANS. (going to doorR.,and taking ticket out of his pocket) Ticket No. 37. (MAIDappears, takes ticket, and disappears)
WOOD. Why, that’s Swansdown! he’s actually giving up his ticket!
SWANS. (seeingWOODCOCK) Ah, Woodcock! how d’ye do? (receiving a hat and cloak fromMAID,and coming forward putting them on) That’ll do! Good night, Woodcock! (crosses toL.)
WOOD. Stop a bit! you don’t mean to say you’re going home, Swansdown?
SWANS. Of course I am! I ought to have been in bed two hours ago. (yawning)
WOOD. So ought I! (yawning) I say, Swansdown, how do you manage it?
SWANS. Manage what?
WOOD. To go home without Mrs. Swansdown?
SWANS. I leave her behind!
WOOD. Exactly—but—how do you manage to leave her behind?
SWANS. I go home without her!
WOOD. I see!
SWANS. Good night! (going)
WOOD. (stopping him again) Don’t be in a hurry!
SWANS. I am so sleepy! (yawning)
WOOD. So am I. (yawning)
SWANS. The fact is, Woodcock, (yawning,WOODCOCKdoes the same) before I got married, I had seen a good deal of this sort of fun. (yawning very loud)
WOOD. So had I! (yawning very loud)
SWANS. In short, I married, not to go out, but to stop at home! (yawning)
WOOD. (yawning) So did I! but how do you manage it?
SWANS. Manage what?
WOOD. Why, to stop at home?
SWANS. I don’t go out!
WOOD. Exactly—but how do you manage to “don’t go out?”
SWANS. I stop at home.
WOOD. I see!
SWANS. I hit on a very simple plan! I had a regular stock of sudden indispositions to meet every invitation that came in; headaches, rheumatisms, lumbagoes, &c., &c., Mrs. Swansdown grumbled a good deal at first, but she soon got used to it, and——
WOOD. (suddenly graspingSWANSDOWN’Shand, and shaking it violently) Thank you, Swansdown! I’m obliged to you, Swansdown! good night, Swansdown. (stopping him again) One moment—when you married Mrs. Swansdown, had she got a Carver?
SWANS. A what?
WOOD. A Carver—I mean, a mother?
SWANS. No!
WOOD. Never mind! Good night, Swansdown! Go home to bed, Swansdown!
ExitSWANSDOWN,L.
I’ll try it! I will, by Jove! there’s that horrible fancy dress ball to-morrow night! what “sudden indisposition” shall I have—I’ve had the measles——
EnterLARKINGSatC.in very fashionable evening costume.
LARK. (R.C.,seeingWOODCOCK) Ah, Woodcock! All alone, eh? I’m afraid you’re not enjoying yourself?
WOOD. (L.C.) Yes, I am—in a quiet way!
LARK. Delightful party, eh? By-the-bye—I congratulate you—your wife is really a very nice sort of person—very nice, indeed! (in a patronizing tone) but her dancing has been sadly neglected. However, make yourself easy, I’ve engaged her for the next three polkas on purpose to teach her the proper step!
WOOD. Have you?
LARK. After that I’m engaged to Mrs. Swansdown for the rest of the evening. Swansdown’s gone home as usual! ha, ha! poor Swansdown! “when the cat’s away,” you know, eh? ha, ha!
WOOD. (drawing himself up) Mr. Christopher Larkings!
LARK. Come, come, Woodcock—that grave face won’t do with me, besides, it isn’t because I flirt with my friend’s wives that I love them! I flirt with yours, but I don’t love her, at least, not yet! ha, ha! but I say, old fellow, don’t follow Swansdown’s example—what can a man on the wrong side of forty expect if he will go home to bed and leave a pretty young wife behind him, eh? ha, ha! (pokingWOODCOCKin the side)
WOOD. Sir! my friend, Swansdown, has too much confidence——
LARK. (laughing) Of course he has, that’s the delicious part of it, ha, ha! I say, Woodcock. (taking his arm, and aside to him) I don’t mind telling you—and after all, I meant no harm—but when Mrs. Larkings went down to your wedding at—what d’ye call the place—Toad in the Hole——
WOOD. Stow-on-the-Wold, sir! (with dignity)
LARK. No matter! well, I suddenly remarked what a fascinating person she was——
WOOD. Mrs. Larkings?
LARK. No, Mrs. Swansdown! I used to say all sorts of stupid things to her——
WOOD. That I’ll be bound to say you did; well, there’s no great harm in that!
LARK. No, but that’s not all—not that I meant any harm—well, after a luncheon of grilled chicken and champagne, this afternoon—I don’t know how the deuce it happened, but I’ve a sort of stupid, misty recollection of writing a stupid sort of letter, full of doves and loves, and Cupid’s darts and bleeding hearts—you know what I mean—which letter, I’m under a very strong impression, Mrs. Swansdown will find on her dressing table when she gets home to-night.
WOOD. Mr. Larkings!
LARK. Yes, yes, it was a stupid thing to do, I know, and I heartily wish I had the confounded letter back, but it’s too late now, and after all, I meant no harm. (polka music heard) There’s the polka! I mustn’t keep Mrs. Woodcock waiting. Good bye! (going)
WOOD. Stop!
LARKINGSruns out atC.toL.
Catch me leaving Mrs. Woodcock alone for a single moment! No, no, I’ll stick to her like her shadow. I’ll revel in Redowas! I’ll plunge into polkas! I’ll have a shy at the sausages—I mean Schottisches! (here the polka music becomes louder) I don’t half like my wife’s skipping about with that fellow now; if I could only manage to get her away. (looking at clock, which is in a conspicuous part of the stage) Only a quarter past one. (after a short pause) That clock’s too slow. (lounging up stage, assuming an unconcerned manner and humming a tune—when near the clock, looks right and left, then jumps up into a chair, puts the clock on one hour, and jumps off chair again—then taking out his watch) Hey-day! my watch is an hour too slow by that clock, and I know there isn’t a better clock in England. (putting his watch on an hour, then hastily thrusting it into his pocket, aside) Just in time!
EnterMRS. WOODCOCK,atC.fromL.
MRS. W. Still here, my dear? Why don’t you come into the ball-room?
WOOD. I will presently—there’s plenty of time! It’s quite early yet! (seeing that he is standing betweenMRS. WOODCOCKand the clock, moves aside) I repeat, it’squite early yet!(pointedly, and looking at clock)
MRS. W. (seeing clock) Eh? Can it be possible? Twenty minutes past two?
WOOD. Oh! that clock’s too fast! Look here! (taking out his watch) Holloa! Why it’s half-past two! That clock’s too slow.
MRS. W. How the time slips away!
WOOD. Yes! the last hour’s gone remarkably fast.
Music—some five or six couples, includingMRS. LARKINGSandMRS. CARVER,come in atC.,dancing the polka—the last couple consisting ofMRS. CARVERand a veryYOUNGMAN—polka ceases.
WOOD. (who has gone to door,L.) Ticket No. 81—two opera cloaks—a hat—a comforter—an Inverness cape!
MRS. C. Why! What is Marmy about? (toMRS. WOODCOCK)
MRS. W. Look at the clock, mamma!
MRS. C. Half-past two!
EnterLARKINGS,atC.fromL.
LARK. What’s that? Half-past two? No such thing, gentlemen—I appeal to you! Out with your watches! (LARKINGSandGENTLEMENtake out their watches—each presenting his to hisLADY)
MRS. W. Another hour! Delightful!
MRS. C. Charming! (polka music resumed) Mrs. Woodcock, allow me. (polka—MRS. CARVERseizing her former partner and whirling him out after the others, atC.toL.)
WOOD. (who has been standing looking on with the opera cloaks, &c., &c., in his arms—dashes them down in alump on the stage) That’s a failure! Then I won’t go home at all! I’ll sleep here! (seizing up the cloaks, &c., and dashing them one after the other on the sofa,L.C.,and then throwing himself upon them) There! (burying his head in the pillow) This is very comfortable——
SWANSDOWNhurries in, atL.,very pale and excited.
SWANS. (as he enters) Woodcock! Woodcock! (seeing him on sofa) Ah, there he is! (shaking him) Woodcock, get up!
WOOD. (jumping up) Halloa, Swansdown, come back again!
SWANS. (with a savage grin,R.) Yes! ha, ha, ha! (with a forced laugh)
WOOD. (L.) Don’t make such dreadful faces! What’s the matter?
SWANS. Matter? (furiously and grimacing)
WOOD. Don’t grind your teeth in that horrible way. Recollect they’re not your own!
SWANS. Listen! (graspingWOODCOCK’Sarm) On my return home, I found Mrs. Swansdown’s maid in Mrs. Swansdown’s room fast asleep! Something was lying on the dressing table! It was a letter!
WOOD. (aside) Larkings’s billet!
SWANS. Yes! A letter for Mrs. Swansdown, from—from—fiends and furies!
WOOD. I don’t know either of the gentlemen.
SWANS. From Larkings! Christopher Larkings! There was no signature; but I knew the handwriting! It was a declaration—a declaration! Don’t you hear? (shouting)
WOOD. Yes—yes! Well!
SWANS. I rushed into my library—opened my desk—took out my duelling pistols—put them in my pocket, and—here I am! (savagely and walking to and fro)
WOOD. (following him) Pistols? Oh, I say, Swansdown—Swansdown! Oh, I say!
SWANS. (stopping suddenly) Larkings dies!
WOOD. Yes; but don’t—don’t go and cut him off in the flower of his polka—I mean, his youth!
SWANS. Ah! here comes Mrs. Larkings! She shall know all!
EnterMRS. LARKINGS,atC.fromL.
WOOD. No—no! (holdingSWANSDOWNback, who tries to joinMRS. LARKINGS)
MRS. L. (R.) Still here, Mr. Swansdown, then I shall claim you for my partner in the polka!
WOOD. (aside toSWANSDOWN) A thousand pardons, madam——
MRS. L. Refuse a lady? Fie—nay, I insist upon it!
(polka music without—SWANSDOWNbegins very unwillingly to dance withMRS. LARKINGS—WOODCOCKanxiously following them and dancing a polka steps after them)
MRS. L. (while dancing) Besides, Mr. Larkings is dancing with Mrs. Swansdown!
SWANS. Ah! (polking savagely)
MRS. L. Yes, fourth time to-night!
WOOD. (still dancing after them, and aside toMRS. LARKINGS) Don’t tell him that, mum—don’t tell him that!
MRS. L. Luckily, I’m not jealous! Christopher is constancy itself!
SWANS. (savagely) Is he? Ha, ha!
WOOD. (still dancing after them, and aside toSWANSDOWN) Hush, Swansdown, hush!
MRS. L. Yes, any woman has my full permission to wean Christopher’s affections from me, if she can!
WOOD. (still polking by their side, and aside toMRS. LARKINGS) Don’t aggravate him, mum—don’t aggravate him!
SWANS. Indeed! What if I place in your hands the proof of your husband’s infidelity?
WOOD. (same play) Hush, Swansdown!
MRS. L. Ha, ha! I defy you!
WOOD. (same play) Don’t defy him, mum, don’t defy him.
SWANS. Indeed! then that proof shall be in your hands in half an hour.
WOOD. (same play) Hush, Swansdown!
SWANS. A letter! a declaration! addressed to my wife by—your husband!
MRS. L. (suddenly stopping) Christopher unfaithful!Support me! (falling intoWOODCOCK’Sarms, who quite bewildered goes on dancing the polka)
EnterMRS. CARVER,C.fromL.
MRS. C. (seeingMRS. LARKINGSinWOODCOCK’Sarm) Ah! Support me! (falling intoWOODCOCK’Sother arm, who, still more bewildered, unconsciously keeps up a polka step)
EnterLARKINGS,C.fromL.
LARK. Ah! (about to run toMRS. LARKINGS)
SWANS. (stopping him) One moment! (drags him forward—then, savagely aside to him) We must fight, sir. I know all! all!
LARK. (aside) The devil! (aloud) Well, sir, to-morrow morning!
SWANS. No! Now! Now! it’s a moonlight night! Primrose Hill close at hand, and I’ve pistols in my pocket! Woodcock! (toWOODCOCK,who has placedMRS. LARKINGSandMRS. CARVEReach in a chair and is fanning them alternately, still dancing a polka step—SWANSDOWNgoes up, seizesWOODCOCKby the arm, and drags him down—aside to him) You’ll be my second? I’m going to shoot Larkings!
LARK. (graspingWOODCOCK’Sother arm) You’ll be my second? I’m going to shoot Swansdown!
They dragWOODCOCKout between them atL., WOODCOCKstruggling, &c.
MRS. C. (who recovers and runs toMRS. LARKINGS) My dear Mrs. Larkings, look up, there’s a dear creature.
MRS. L. Oh, oh, oh! (sobbing) I’m the most miserable woman in the world!
MRS. C. (soothingly) So you shall be, there! but what has happened?
MRS. L. (C.) My husband—Christopher has written a love letter to Mrs. Swansdown! Oh, the base, fickle, perfidious monster!
MRS. C. (R.C.) My dear friend, never indulge in a plurality of epithets; select one, a good one, and stick to it! Inever called Carver anything but a brute! But are you sure?
MRS. L. Quite certain! Mr. Swansdown has promised to send me the letter in half an hour; if it contains the proof of Christopher’s inconstancy, oh, what shall I do?
MRS. C. Nothing, ’till Mr. Swansdown has sent you the letter——
MRS. L. Very well! I’ll wait ’till the half hour has expired—patiently, very patiently, (tearing her handkerchief) if the letter doesn’t come, I’ll go to Mr. Swansdown for it—yes—late as it is, I will! and you’ll go with me, won’t you? (imploringly)
MRS. C. Yes, we’ll go together; in the meantime, come with me into the ball room—everybody has doubtless left by this time, and you’ll find a glass or two of sherry and a few sponge cakes a great support in your affliction. Come!
Exeunt atC.toL.—MRS. CARVERsupportingMRS. LARKINGS,at the same moment the door,L.,slowly opens, andWOODCOCKpeeps in, then speaks off.
WOOD. The coast is clear; you can come in.
EnterLARKINGSwith his right arm in a sling—SWANSDOWNfollowing, evidently very much out of temper—takes a chair, bangs it down on stage, and falls into it,L.
LARK. (R.,pressing his right arm) How confoundedly painful my arm is.
WOOD. (C.,soothingly) Yes! I daresay it smarts a little!
SWANS. (dashing his hat down on stage) I’m disgusted! yes, disgusted that this stupid ridiculous duel should have occurred! (toLARKINGS) Why the deuce didn’t you tell me you were sorry for what you’d done—that you meant no harm? my feelings wouldn’t have been wounded!
LARK. (pressing his wounded arm) Nor mine either! but that’s not the worst of it—if Mrs. Larkings discovers what has taken place, do you know what she’ll do? She’ll leave London and bury me alive in the country for the rest of my existence.
WOOD. (aside) Good gracious! I wonder if Mrs. Woodcock would servemethe same ifIwere to—by jingo! it’s worth thinking about. (aloud) But howisMrs. Larkings to know anything about it?Ishan’t betray you—Swansdown won’t—you won’t betray yourself?
LARK. No; but my wounded arm will! besides there’s that unlucky letter of mine, which Swansdown has promised to send to my wife.
SWANS. (producing letter) Here it is. If Idon’tsend it, what can I say?
WOOD. (taking the letter) Say? why—that you made a mistake in the handwriting—that it wasn’t Larkings’s after all!—but somebody else’s!—anybody’s—(suddenly)—Mine!
WOOD. Yes! What’s the consequence? When it’s known that you and I have been fighting, no one will imagine it’s on account of Mrs. Swansdown, consequently her reputation will be saved!
SWANS. True! but zounds then! what have we been fighting about?
WOOD. Eh? oh, for the fun of the thing! or else some difference of opinion—(suddenly)—the war in America! that’s the very thing! you’re for the Federates! I’m for the Confederals!—that’ll do famously—it’ll saveyou(toSWANSDOWN) from being laughed at;you(toLARKINGS) from being buried alive in the country.
WOOD. Never mind me. Woodcock’s got a little game of his own. (aside) It’s a capital idea—a sublime idea! (toSWANSDOWN) Now go home; and spread the report of our duel right and left; mention it at your butcher’s, baker’s, and candlestick maker’s—in short everywhere; and don’t forget you’re a Confederal—I mean—never mind; go along.
SWANSDOWNhurries out atL.
LARK. But I say, what the deuce is to become of me in the matter?
WOOD. Eh? I have it; you’ve been my second.
LARK. Very well? then I can go to Mrs. Larkings.
WOOD. Yes. Stop! take that sling off.
LARK. Well, but——
WOOD. Take it off, I say!
LARK. (taking off sling and fitting his arm in his waistcoat, with evident pain) There! and now give me that confounded letter of mine.
WOOD. Oh dear, no! I can’t spare that. (taking letter out of envelope and reading) “To see you is to love you.” (aside) And to think I’ve got to copy such twaddle as that. (listening) Hark! I hear some one. You know what you’ve got to do; don’t go and make a mess of it. (aside) And I got married to settle down quietly—it looks like it! Never mind; Woodcock’s got his little game!
Hurries out atL.
EnterMRS. LARKINGSandMRS. CARVER,C.
LARK. (assuming an air of unconcern) Ah, my dear!
MRS. L. (R.—extending her arm) Keep your distance, sir. I know all—all! In a word, I am now going to Mr. Swansdown’s—you hear—to Mr. Swansdown’s, for a certain letter—a love letter, sir, written by you to Mrs. Swansdown.
LARK. (C.) By me! Ha, ha, ha! I should like to see it. Go and fetch it, my dear; why don’t you go for it, my love? Tra, la, la! (humming a tune)
EnterDAVID,L.
DAVID. (toMRS. LARKINGS) Please, ma’am. (aside) Don’t let me forget what master told me to say. (aloud) Here be a letter, ma’am, from Mr. Swan—Swan——
MRS. L. (eagerly) Swansdown? give it me? (snatching letter fromDAVID,but keeping her eyes fixed onLARKINGS,who tries to appear unconcerned, and endeavours to get up a whistle) You may go, David!
ExitDAVID,L.
LARK. (aside) Woodcock’s gone and bungled the business—I knew he would. (MRS. LARKINGStears open the envelope) She’s opened it; it’s all over with me!
MRS. L. (reading) “To see you is to love you.” (suddenly) Eh! can it be? yes! yes! (with an exclamation of joy, and throwing her arms roundLARKINGS) Oh, my dear, darling Christopher!
LARK. (suffering pain in his arm, and trying to disengage himself—aside) Confound it! how she’s hurting me!
MRS. C. What do you mean?
MRS. L. That I’m the happiest woman in the world—that Christopher is innocent! (throws her arms again round him)
LARK. Don’t! don’t!
MRS. C. Innocent?
MRS. L. Yes, as a lamb! the letter isn’t in his handwriting—look! (giving letter toMRS. C.,and making another spring atLARKINGS,who keeps her off)
MRS. C. (reading letter) “To see you is to——” (suddenly, and with a violent scream) Ah!
MRS. L.andLARK. (startled) What’s the matter?
MRS. C. (after a pause gives another louder scream) Ah! the wretch! the monster!
MRS. L. Who? who?
MRS. C. Woodcock! the handwriting ishis!(LARKINGSlaughs aside) Ah! (another loud scream)
LARK. Hush! you’ll alarm the neighbourhood.
MRS. C. (L.C.) I don’t care—I must scream! I shall die if I don’t scream! take me somewhere where I can scream!
MRS. L. Hush! for Caroline’s sake.
MRS. C. True! she must know nothing—and yet I must scream. I’ll go out in the street and scream.
MRS. L. Hush! had you not better take poor Caroline home on some pretext or other!
MRS. C. I will! and then I’ll come back and kill Woodcock. I’ll send for a cab this moment!
MRS. L. Pray be cautious.
MRS. C. I will! but I shall suffocate if I don’t scream—I have it—I’ll scream in the cab! (hurries out,C.)
MRS. L. (with an imploring look atLARKINGS) Oh, can you forgive me?
LARK. (in a patronizing tone) Yes, yes!
MRS. L. Dearest, best of Christophers— (suddenly embracing him again)
LARK. Don’t! don’t!
MRS. L. How could I suspect you? but isn’t this dreadful conduct of Mr. Woodcock’s! actually before the honeymoon is over!
LARK. Very shocking, indeed.
MRS. L. The man ought to be put in the pillory!
LARK. At the very least.
MRS. L. Ah! (tenderly) you wouldn’t deceive your fond confiding wife? (affectionately putting her arm in his wounded one)
LARK. (making a grimace) Not for the world!
EnterDAVID,L.
DAVID. (in a flurried manner) Oh please, ma’am, a policeman has just rang at our bell——
MRS. L. A policeman?
DAVID. Yes, ma’am; seeing we hadn’t gone to bed, he called to say that as he was going over Primrose Hill, about a quarter of an hour ago (LARKINGSpricks up his ears) he picked up this card case, ma’am! (LARKINGShastily fumbles in all his pockets)
LARK. (aside) Mine, by Jupiter!
DAVID. So he opens it, ma’am, and—(toLARKINGSwho is making violent signs to him to hold his tongue) What’s the matter, sir? (MRS. LARKINGSturns towardsLARKINGS,who again tries to get up a whistle)
MRS. L. But why bring it to our home?
DAVID. Because it’s Mr. Larkings’s card case, ma’am!
MRS. L. (toLARKINGS,suspiciously) So you’ve been to Primrose Hill, it seems?
LARK. (bothered) Yes—the fact is—the rooms were so hot—and—never having seen the sun set—I mean the moon rise—I—(aside) I’d better hold my tongue.
MRS. L. (after a searching look at him) Where did the man say he picked this card case up?
DAVID. Where the shooting took place, ma’am.
MRS. L. The shooting?
DAVID. Yes, ma’am. (seeingLARKINGSagain making signals to him) Yes, sir! (MRS. LARKINGSlooks round andLARKINGSagain assumes an air of unconcern) He heard two shots, ma’am—bang, bang; and ran to the spot just in time to see three gentlemen walking off; and——
(during thisLARKINGShas been again repeating his signals to him)
MRS. L. You can go, David.
ExitDAVID,atL.
Larkings! (eagerly to him) what does this mean? Speak, Christopher—what has happened? (graspingLARKINGS’Sarm, who makes a grimace) Ah! you needn’t explain; I see it all—there has been a duel?
LARK. (L.) Well——
MRS. L. (C.) Don’t speak; between Mr. Swansdown and you.
LARK. No, no.
MRS. L. Who then? He believed thatyouwrote the letter to his wife?
LARK. Yes, yes.
MRS. L. And challenged you?
LARK. Yes, yes.
MRS. L. And you fought?
LARK. Yes—no, no.
MRS. L. Yes, yes—no, no. Explain! No! I see it all.
LARK. (aside) She’s always seeing it all! (crosses toR.)
MRS. L. When you got on the ground, Mr. Woodcock, who was probably your second——
LARK. My second! yes—exactly.
MRS. L. Confessed that he was the real culprit——
LARK. (quickly) That’s it.
MRS. L. And received Mr. Swansdown’s fire——
LARK. In the arm.
MRS. L. Wounded! Mr. Woodcock wounded!
LARK. Yes. (recollecting) No; that is—— (aside) Zounds! nothing was said aboutthat.
MRS. L. Poor Mr. Woodcock! Which arm was it?
LARK. Eh—why—the arm that held the sword!
MRS. L. The sword!
LARK. Yes—no, I mean the pistol! (aside) Now to find Woodcock, and put him on his guard. (turns and seesWOODCOCK,who enters atL.,with his left arm in a sling—aside) Huzzah! he’s got his arm in a sling!
MRS. L. (looking atWOODCOCK,who comes slowly forward, as if very much ashamed of himself) It is true, then. Unhappy man, I pity you!
WOOD. (assuming a very penitential voice and manner) I don’t deserve it.
LARK. (aside) Confound it! he’s got thewrongarm inthe sling! Ahem! (making violent signs toWOODCOCKtochange arms)
MRS. L. (looking atWOODCOCK) Why, how’s this? (toLARKINGS) You told me Mr. Woodcock’s wound was in the right arm!
LARK. (confused,R.) Did I?
MRS. L. Yes—you distinctly said “the arm that held the pistol.”
WOOD. (very quietly,C.) That’s quite right! I’m a left-handed Woodcock.
MRS. L. (L.) It’s very shocking! but there’s something worse behind.
WOOD. (looking behind him) Where?
MRS. L. I mean that Mrs. Colonel Carver knows everything. She’ll return immediately; when she’s done screaming, your only hope is to plead guilty at once and sue for pardon for Caroline’s sake—you know that’s her tender point!
WOOD. I will! I’ll throw myself at once upon her tender point.
MRS. C. (without) Don’t tell me! I can’t—I won’t believe it!
EnterMRS. CARVER,hurriedly,R.,and seesWOODCOCKwith his arm in the sling.
MRS. C. (assuming a very pathetic attitude) Ah! it’s true! (screams and falls into chair,MRS. LARKINGSruns to her—WOODCOCKandLARKINGSexchange winks and laugh)
MRS. L. (toMRS. C.) Hush! the arm is only slightly, very slightly wounded.
MRS. C. I know better! they’ll have to amputate it! I shall have a one-armed son-in-law—a wretched, helpless cripple! (suddenly toMRS. LARKINGS) My dear friend, go to poor dear Caroline—don’t leave her till I’ve had time to do all my screaming! I know I screamed in the cab, but not half enough! Go, go!
ExitMRS. LARKINGS,C.,followed byLARKINGS,who again exchanges winks, &c., withWOODCOCK.
MRS. C. (watching them out and then turning toWOODCOCK,who looks at her and then turns his head away as if ashamed of himself) Am I awake? or is it a dream—anightmare? No! there he stands—at least, all that is left of him. Oh, Marmy! (sobbing loudly and burying her face in her handkerchief)
WOOD. (R.) Oh, Carver! (imitatingMRS. CARVER)
MRS. C. (indignantly) So, sir! Scarce ten days married to the sweetest, the gentlest of her sex, you actually have the audacity to indite a declaration of love to another woman—a married woman too! (suddenly bursting again into sobbing) Oh, Marmy!
WOOD. Oh, Carver! (same play)
MRS. C. (L.) I couldn’t have believed it! (ditto)
WOOD. No, more could I! (ditto) You’ve done it, Carver! Youwouldbring me to London, and what’s the result?—that I’m a lost Woodcock. (in a tone of pretended anguish)
MRS. C. Oh, Marmy! (sobbing very loud)
WOOD. Oh, Carver! (ditto)
MRS. C. But no! you can’t be utterly depraved in so short a time!
WOOD. Yes, I am! I feel I’m rapidly settling down into an atrocious profligate, and I can’t help it! That’s the melancholy part of it, I can’t help it! You’ve done it, Carver, youwouldbring me to London!
MRS. C. Oh, Marmy! (a fresh burst of sobbing)
WOOD. Oh, Carver! (ditto)
MRS. C. (suddenly) There’s only one thing to be done! go back at once to Stow-on-the-Wold, (WOODCOCKwinks, aside) and there, with your dear Caroline——
WOOD. (putting on a very excited manner) It’s too late now; if you had let me stop at Stow-on-the-Wold, I should have been perfectly satisfied with my “dear Caroline;” but you would bring me to London—you know you would, and what’s the result? that one dear Caroline isn’t enough for me! I must have a dozen—two dozen—three dozen “dear Carolines!” an unlimited quantity of “dear Carolines!!” (very wildly)
MRS. C. (indignantly) Silence! reprobate!
WOOD. Gently, Carver! gently! I’m not going to be bullied! dash my wig if I am!
MRS. C. Mr. Woodcock!
WOOD. I can’t help it! You’ve done it, Carver! Ilove!—I adore the whole sex!You’rea fine woman, Carver!—I loveyou!—Come to my arms, Carver! (making a rush open-armed atMRS. CARVER,who,alarmed, avoids him)
MRS. C. (alarmed) The man’s mad! I’m ashamed of you!
WOOD. So am I! But you would bring me to London! you know you would! (trying again to throw his arms round her)
MRS. C. Help!
EnterMAIDSERVANT,running,R.
Oh, Susan! (running to her)
WOOD. Oh, that’s Susan, is it? Lovely Susan! embrace your Woodcock! (rushes with open arms atSUSAN,who, alarmed, rushes out screaming)
MRS. C. (clasping her hands) And this is my work!
WOOD. Yes, you’ve done it Carver! never mind; don’t cry, old girl! (throwing his arm roundMRS. CARVER’Sneck)
MRS. C. Oh, Marmy, Marmy, if you’ve any love for Caroline, leave this wicked, abominable, detestable town this very morning by the very first train, and go back to Stow-on-the-Wold—I implore! I entreat you!
WOOD. (after a pretended struggle with himself, then smiling benignantly) Carver, your tears have conquered! do with me as you will. (throws himself into her arms and makes a wry face over her shoulder, then looking towardsL.) Swansdown! what the deuce can he want? (retiring to back asSWANSDOWNenters,L.)
SWANS. (as he enters) It’s all right, Woodcock—— (seeingMRS. CARVER) Madam—I——
MRS. C. Mr. Swansdown, I know all; your duel with my unhappy son-in-law——
SWANS. (aside) Bravo! she’s on the wrong scent. (aloud) Well, madam, I presume I have as much right to sympathize with the Federals as he has with the Confederates?
WOOD. (who has been trying to attractSWANSDOWN’Snotice by making signals) He’s made a mess of it! I knew he would.
MRS. C. Federals—Confederates! I see—a subterfuge to conceal therealcause of your quarrel. You may relyon receiving a letter of apology—ample apology from Mr. Woodcock!
SWANS. Not till he’s recovered the use of his right arm, I beg.
WOOD. (behind) Eh? of course; it was therightarm! (taking his left arm out of the sling and inserting the right)
MRS. C. Therightarm, you mean theleft.(WOODCOCKchanges arms again)
SWANS. The right! I think I ought to know.
MRS. C. The left! I suppose I can believe my eyes.
SWANS. Right!
MRS. C. Left!
WOOD. (who has kept on changing arms rapidly) Oh, bother! there! (stuffing both arms into the sling)
EnterMRS. LARKINGShurriedly, atC.fromL.
MRS. L. (running toWOODCOCK) She’s here—Caroline! she’s heard of the duel; that you are wounded in the right arm—(WOODCOCKwho has both arms in the sling, draws out the left) though of course I knew it was the left, (WOODCOCKchanges arms again) when luckily—I don’t know how it came into my head—I told her it was not her husband but mine who—she’s here—don’t undeceive her; but first off with this. (dragging the sling violently offWOODCOCK’Sneck)
EnterMRS. WOODCOCK,hurriedlyC.fromL.
MRS. W. (running toWOODCOCK) You are not wounded? it was not you then—Oh, I’m so happy! (hereLARKINGSappears atC.)
MRS. L. (seeing him, runs to him and flings the sling over his neck) Hush, not a word! (taking hold of his right arm and thrusting it violently into the sling)
LARK. (crying out with pain) Oh!
MRS. L. (aside to him) That’s right—pretend it hurts you! (leading him down) Here is the real culprit; but as he is sufficiently punished already, I forgive him. (aside toLARKINGS,who is about to speak) Hush! You’ll haveto wear the sling for a week. I’ll tell you why another time!
LARK. With all my heart. (aside toWOODCOCKshaking his hand) Thanks to you, my wife suspects nothing!
SWANS. (aside, toWOODCOCK,and shakingWOODCOCK’Sother hand) Thanks to you, no one suspects mine!
WOOD. And thanks to both of you, (shaking both their hands) I’m going back to Stow-on-the-Wold—that is, if our kind friends assure us that success has crowned “WOODCOCK’SLITTLEGAME!”
Curtain.