Married Life

Mrs. Ly. Will you compel me to ring the bell?

Mrs. Cod. Go into a rage, Mr. Coddle.

Cod. I can’t; – (MRS. LYNX throws open a window, R. H.) – my love, we are in a thorough draught; that woman wants to destroy me. Let us leave the house, if you wish to see me alive an hour hence. Be satisfied – I’ll call on Mr. Lynx, and demand an explanation.

Mrs. Cod. But one word more —

Cod. No, no, not one. Come, my dear – I’ve the rheumatics in my right shoulder, already – I tremble from head to foot – I’ve taken cold, and you’ll have to nurse me for a month – Come, dear, come.

[Exit L. H. dragging off MRS. CODDLE.

Mrs. Ly. (Falling into a chair.) – Wretched woman that I am – why did I ever give power to any man so to torment me? I’ll now follow him, and enjoy his disappointment.

Mrs. Cod. (Without.) – Don’t send up your name at present – the poor creature is in a rabid state. – (MRS. YOUNGHUSBAND heard without.)

Mrs. Y. Mrs. Lynx won’t mind us.

Mrs. Ly. (Looking off, L. H.) – Who is this? Mr. and Mrs. Younghusband! how provoking – just as I’m going out. – What can bring them here? they are a couple that I can’t endure; though married but three months, they are perpetually contradicting and annoying each other; if, now, they had suffered the five years of matrimony that I have – there might be some excuse for them, but to disagree so early in their career, is sad, indeed.

Enter MR. and MRS. YOUNGHUSBAND, L. H

Mrs. Younghusband. (Running to MRS. LYNX, and taking both her hands.) – How d’ye do, dear? don’t mind me and Y. coming in so unceremoniously – we have called to give you some information.

Younghusband. How can you talk so absurdly, Louisa? we have not called to give Mrs. Lynx any information.

Mrs. Y. For what, then?

Young. Merely to tell her that a person wishes to see her.

Mrs. Y. Well, that is information.

Young. No, it isn’t.

Mrs. Y. Yes, it is.

Young. How can that be?

Mrs. Y. To tell any body of any matter is to inform them; and to inform people, is, of course, to give them information. How you do contradict me!

Mrs. Ly. What, then, is the information that you bring me?

Mrs. Y. There, you hear, sir; Mrs. Lynx allows it to be information.

Young. It can’t be.

Mrs. Y. But it is.

Young. It isn’t; you have not informed Mrs. Lynx of anything, yet.

Mrs. Y. I should have done so, if you had not interrupted and contradicted me, as you always do.

Young. Allow me to tell Mrs. Lynx – you must know, madam, that some years ago, my wife was sent to the boarding-school of Mrs. Dove, in Sussex.

Mrs. Y. No, it was in Kent.

Young. In Sussex!

Mrs. Y. In Kent, I tell you.

Young. If you aggravate me in this manner, I’ll go home again.

Mrs. Ly. Well – well.

Mrs. Y. Last night, at a friend’s house, we accidentally met Mr. and Mrs. Dove – when she informed us that she had given up her school, and was now in London for the purpose of collecting some old debts, and amongst the names of the persons that she had to call on, was that of a Mr. Lynx —

Mrs. Ly. My husband?

Mrs. Y. Your husband.

Young. Louisa, how can you? why will you thus agitate Mrs. Lynx? – you are not sure the Mr. Lynx, that Mrs. Dove is looking for, is the husband of our friend – we merely surmised that it was.

Mrs. Y. I tell you, I’m certain it is the same.

Young. You are not!

Mrs. Y. I am.

Young. It can’t be the same.

Mrs. Y. It is.

Young. It isn’t.

Mrs. Lynx. Now, pray, don’t trifle with me; think of my dreadful suspense – think of my feelings at this moment.

Mrs. Y. Mrs. Dove is now below, with her husband; shall I ask her to walk up? – then she can relate this strange circumstance herself.

Young. You ought first to tell Mrs. Lynx, who and what the people are, before you introduce them to her.

Mrs. Y. There is no necessity for it.

Young. There is.

Mrs. Y. There isn’t.

Young. I tell you, there is.

Mrs. Lynx. Yes, yes – pray tell me.

Mrs. Y. Well, then – Mrs. Dove, you must know, was a widow; and formerly the mistress of a large boarding school; but has now retired, after marrying her footman. They are the oddest couple you ever met with. She is perpetually drilling her husband into politeness and correct pronunciation, which the poor man will never comprehend as long as he lives. Oh, had you but seen them last night! whenever a bell rang, poor Mr. Dove could scarcely help starting from his chair, and running to attend to it; and could only be checked by the alarming eyes of Mrs. Dove. Ha! ha! – Oh, those eyes – how they did remind me of my school-days! just the looks that she used to dart at us, poor refractory girls.

Young. My dear, why don’t you keep to that portion of the narrative, most interesting to Mrs. Lynx; she don’t want to hear of great eyes and refractory girls.

Mrs. Y. I am sure I have mentioned all that is necessary.

Young. You have not.

Mrs. Y. I have.

Young. You have not.

Mrs. Ly. Ask them to walk up, I shall then be satisfied.

Mrs. Y. (Calling.) – Step up, Mrs. Dove, and bring your husband with you.

Young. There is no necessity for calling up Mr. Dove.

Mrs. Y. There is.

Young. There isn’t.

Mrs. Y. There is.

Young. They are here; don’t make a noise.

Mrs. Y. ’Twas you that made the noise.

Young. ’Twas not.

Mrs. Y. It was.

Enter MR. and MRS. DOVE

Mrs. Y. Mrs. Lynx – Mr. and Mrs. Dove. – Will you be kind enough to relate to Mrs. Lynx the purport of your enquiry?

Mrs. Dove. The purport of my enquiry is to ascertain, whether the Mr. Lynx, that I am informed is residing here, is the identical person who, two years ago, placed a young lady under my care?

Mrs. Y. A young lady! My husband place a young lady under your care?

Young. Nay, madam, before you distress yourself, you had better be assured that the Mr. Lynx alluded to, is your husband.

Mrs. Dove. The gentleman’s Christian cognomen was Lionel.

Dove. Lionel Lynx, Esquire.

Mrs. Dove. Silence, my dear!

Dove. That is what was on a trunk he sent to our house; that’s all I know, my precious.

Mrs. Ly. The name is perfectly correct.

Mrs. Dove. I was told that he had been in the army.

Mrs. Ly. Right, Madam.

Mrs. Dove. But had sold his commission, and married.

Mrs. Ly. You are right, Madam – it is the same; there is not the slightest shadow of a doubt but ’tis the same; – and this person that he placed with you, what was she?

Mrs. Dove. A young lady of great personal attractions.

Mrs. Ly. Ha!

Dove. She played the harp diwinely.

Mrs. Dove. Divinely, dear, – think of your v’s.

Dove. Hang them we’s – I shall never get over ’em.

Mrs. Dove. She was placed at my establishment, not so much with a view to education, as with reference to the meeting with a comfortable and respectable home at a moderate charge.

Dove. A hundred a-year, and bring your own silver knife, fork, spoon, and six towels!

Mrs. Dove. Hush, love, we must forget the school now!

Mrs. Ly. I never heard of this. – Who could the girl have been? What was her age?

Mrs. Dove. At that time seventeen.

Mrs. Ly. Her name?

Mrs. Dove. Harriet Seymour.

Mrs. Ly. Where is she now?

Mrs. Dove. That question I am quite incompetent to answer – she resided with me a year and a half – and at the end of that time suddenly disappeared.

Dove. We think she eloped, for every now and then somebody used to come and sing under the windows, to such a degree that all the girls in the house went raving mad.

Mrs. Dove. Silence, dear.

Dove. Yes, darling.

Mrs. Dove. At the time of the young lady’s disappearance there remained a small balance in my favour on her account, for extra’s, and of which I think it probable that Mr. Lynx is not aware.

Dove. Eight pound odd.

Mrs. Dove. Pounds, dear – speak in the plural.

Dove. Pounds, love?

Mrs. Ly. I’m in a maze – bewildered – who can this girl have been? Did she – did she seem attached to him?

Mrs. Dove. Very.

Dove. He called once, and I happened to enter the room quite promiscuously where they was.

Mrs. Dove. Where they were; I was – they were.

Dove. Where they were; and I saw the young lady a dissolving away into tears upon his shoulder; I was then Mrs. D’s. footman!

Mrs. Dove. Henry!

Dove. Martha!

Mrs. Dove. How often have I told you never to touch —

Dove. Oh, la! Ah, I forgot.

Mrs. Ly. ’Twas some victim to his villainy, no doubt. How to discover the mystery – how to come upon him, when he may be unprepared for equivocation! I have it – my friends, – (to MR. and MRS. YOUNGHUSBAND) – If you should meet Mr. Lynx, let me implore you not to breathe a syllable of this matter to him – let me be the first to tell him. Pray oblige me by dining here to-morrow, – (To MR. and MRS. DOVE) – you shall then be introduced to my husband, and should it indeed be the person that placed that girl under your care, he cannot dare to deny it. You, my friends – (To MR. and MRS. Y.) – will also be here – nay, I will invite every soul that I am acquainted with, and publicly expose his villainy.

Mrs. Dove. We will do ourselves that honour.

Mrs. Ly. To-morrow, at five.

Mrs. Dove. We shall be punctual, Madam.

Dove. (Aside to MRS. D.) – You said you’d take me to the Jewological Gardens.

Mrs. Dove. We must defer it, my dear. – (Aside to DOVE.)

Dove. That’s the way you always serves me – you never promise to take me any where, but I am continually disappinted.

Mrs. Dove. Pointed.

Dove. Pointed. You use me shameful, dear.

Mrs. Dove. Don’t be an idiot, love.

Dove. You’re a brute, precious.

Mrs. Dove. Henry. – (Looking fiercely at him.)

Dove. Oh them eyes – I never can answer ’em.

Mrs. Dove. Then to-morrow at five, Mrs. Lynx.

Mrs. Ly. I shall rely on you being here – you will not disappoint me? —

Mrs. Dove. Certainly not. Good morning, Madam. – Now, Henry, your arm.

Mrs. Ly. The servant shall see you to the door. – (MRS. LYNX pulls a bell-rope hanging by the side of the fire-place; a bell rings. DOVE suddenly starts, and is running confusedly as if to answer it, when MRS. DOVE checks him.)

Mrs. Dove. My lamb, you forget yourself.

Dove. Deuce take them bells, I never can hear one without running to answer it.

Mrs. Dove. Good morning, Mrs. Lynx – Good morning, Madam, – Good morning, Sir – (curtseying profoundly to each.) – Now, my dear, (aside to DOVE.) – Don’t forget to leave the room like a gentleman. – (They approach the L. H. door, when they both make a profound obeisance, and go off. MRS. LYNX falls in a chair, hiding her face in her hands.)

Mrs. Y. My dear Mrs. Lynx, pray don’t allow this matter to affect you so seriously.

Young. Louisa, why do you check the feelings of our friend? you ought to be aware that tears are a great relief when one is suffering from mental agitation.

Mrs. Y. No, they a’nt; a pretty relief, indeed, to break one’s heart with crying.

Young. It is a relief.

Mrs. Y. No it is’nt – how do you know? – you never cry, you harden’d creature.

Young. I prefer preserving my tears for a certain event.

Mrs. Y. Ah, when you lose me.

Young. Yes, dear.

Mrs. Y. That’s the kindest thing you have said since our marriage.

Young. No it an’t.

Mrs. Y. Yes it is

Young. It an’t.

Mrs. Y. It is.

Mrs. Ly. My dear friends – pray cease your bickering.

Mrs. Young. He will always contradict me.

Mrs. Ly. If you meet my husband, pray be silent on this matter, and be here to-morrow, I beg; and should I be compelled to take a desperate resource to conquer the feelings that now consume me, you will know how to pity and to pardon me. – (she sinks into a chair.)

Mrs. Y. Come, Frederick, we’ll soon leave poor Mrs. Lynx; people don’t like to have their sorrows intruded upon.

Young. We ought rather to stay and console her.

Mrs. Y. A charming consoler you are – how did you console me yesterday, when that frightful bonnet was sent home?

Young. ’Twas your own taste.

Mrs. Y. It was not.

Young. You insisted on having a fall of blond in the front of it.

Mrs. Y. That is the thing I detest.

Young. It is the very thing that you ordered.

Mrs. Y. When I tried it on, you told me that I never looked so frightful in all my life.

Young. I didn’t.

Mrs. Y. You did – I’ll burn it when I go home.

Young. Indeed you shall not.

Mrs. Y. I will – and I’ll wear my dirty yellow one to vex you.

[Exit L. H.

Young. Louisa! how can you be so absurd. Louisa, why don’t you wait for me? you’re the most aggravating woman I ever met with.

Mrs. Y. (Without.) – I shall go home alone.

Young. You shall not – (rushing out L. H.)

Mrs. Y. I will – (without.)

Young. You shall not – (without.)

Mrs. Y. I will.

Young. You shall not.

Mrs. Y. I hate you.

Young. You don’t.

Mrs. Y. I do.

Young. You don’t.

Mrs. Y. I do.

(The voices of MR. and MRS. Y. are heard contradicting each other, till they gradually cease.)

Mrs. Ly. I surely never felt the passion of jealousy till this moment; all my past suspicions have been mere faults of temper, compared with the restlessness, the wretched thoughts, and sinking of the heart, that I now endure. Who can this girl be? Where is she now? He knows full well – no doubt he visits her – may at this moment be in her society. I’ll leave the house – him – all – for this agony is more than I can bear – (she is rushing out L. H. when LYNXappears.)

Lynx. Where are you going in such haste?

Mrs. Ly. (Controlling her feelings.) – So soon returned.

Lynx. I had forgotten my purse – (going to desk, on a table up the stage.)

Mrs. Ly. I hope you have been gratified by your walk?

Lynx. Yes, perfectly.

Mrs. Ly. Of course you were not so much annoyed at your disappointment, but you sought amends in some more certain amusement?

Lynx. Yes, dear – I returned to you.

Mrs. Ly. You little thought that your note of assignation – your note of “mere business,” was written by me.

Lynx. It was, eh? And pray, what end has the paltry trick answered?

Mrs. Ly. Your immediate attention to it, has convinced me of your perfidy.

Lynx. Indeed! Could you think of no better plan to convict me? – (Taking a chair.)

Mrs. Ly. I have little occasion to tax my invention further, Sir; I now feel quite assured of my misery.

Lynx. Of what misery?

Mrs. Ly. The possession of a husband, who practices concealment. – (Aside) – I did not intend to breathe a syllable of what I have heard; but I cannot resist. I must tell him – perhaps he may be guiltless. Lionel! is the name of Harriet Seymour known to you?

Lynx. (Starting from his seat) – Who has dared to utter that name to you? who has dared to breathe a word of that person?

Mrs. Ly. Ha! now I am, indeed, firmly – wretchedly convinced. What, Sir! your agitation leaves you defenceless? – Where are your arts – your falsehoods – your equivocations, now?

Lynx. Who has been here?

Mrs. Ly. I shall not name.

Lynx. By heaven, you shall. – (Seizing her arm.)

Mrs. Ly. Hold, Sir! would you use violence? Would you conceal your shame, by rage? Listen to me! Ere I quite decide upon my course, I will give you one opportunity of justifying yourself – one chance of a full and fair explanation. Promise me to be at home to-morrow, – I will not, in the mean time, allude to this matter, by a single word; no, no – till then I will conquer my feelings and be silent. I shall be sorry to proceed in the revenge that I contemplate; but should I have cause – remember, ’twas your own hand that cast down the fire-brand here; and if I do take it up, and set the home of our happiness in flames, you alone are to blame.

[Exit, R. H.

Lynx. What can she mean? Does she threaten me with retaliation? Who can have been here – through what channel can she have heard? But I must avoid all explanation; I dare not reveal aught connected with that unhappy girl.

Enter CODDLE, L. H

Cod. Excuse my coming in so unceremoniously – I knew you were here – I saw you come home – merely called to oblige Mrs. Coddle. There’s that window still open; permit me to shut it. – (He crosses to R. H., and pulls down the window.) – Mrs. Lynx has hinted to my wife that a familiarity exists between you and her, and one that I ought not to shut my eyes to; now, I candidly confess that I have opened them as wide as I can, and what Mrs. Lynx can possibly see I am at a loss to guess. But entirely to oblige my wife, I call here, at the risk of my life – as I did not intend coming out any more to-day – to ask if such a familiarity really exists? Mrs. Coddle demands it, for my own satisfaction. If I am not satisfied, she insists on my fighting you; and if I am, she is determined to make Mrs. Lynx beg her pardon. Now, what is to be done?

Lynx. My dear Sir, you well know the temper of my wife, and the pains that she takes to make herself wretched. Be assured that her suspicions are groundless.

Cod. I know they are; and I am convinced it has all originated in my wife’s anxiety to excite me.

Lynx. A word with you; – (bringing CODDLE forward) – I left you here when I went out this morning – did any one call during your stay?

Cod. No one but Mr. and Mrs. Younghusband.

Lynx. (Aside.) – Surely they can’t have heard – no – no – yet they may. Ha, a thought strikes me. Sir, you have more than professed a friendship for me?

Cod. And have proved it, too. Didn’t I visit you every week, when you lodged in that airy situation at Hampstead?

Lynx. My wife has, by some means, yet unknown to myself, discovered my connexion with a young female.

Cod. Oh you villain – why don’t you wear a Welsh wig? you would escape all these troubles, then?

Lynx. I am compelled to avoid all explanation respecting her.

Cod. Well?

Lynx. ’Tis in your power to relieve me from my embarrassment.

Cod. In what way?

Lynx. This young female, I, some time since, placed at a country school for protection —

Cod. You rogue!

Lynx. She disappeared, and all trace of her had been lost.

Cod. Well?

Lynx. My wife has this moment mentioned her name —

Cod. Then, of course, she has discovered your trick?