Part 2

STEPH. Oh, horrorble, sir! tremengeous! Throwed from his 'orse! dashed his self to pieces!

MRS. SHORT. Oh, good heavens, where is he?

SHORT. Ah, this comes of steady men of business taking to riding, when they're turned of five and forty! Poor fellow, poor fellow!

_Enter SWEET, L. C., frightened out of his wits, leaning on his wife and STEPHEN, apparently in great pain--MRS. SHORT and SHORT run to meet him._

SWEET. Oh, oh!

SHORT. My dear friend, what is it, tell me!

SWEET. (_in a feeble voice_) Thrown--thrown from my horse.

MRS. SWEET. (_with the greatest solicitude and affection_) _My poor_ husband! Quick, quick, the sofa! (_STEPHEN wheels sofa to C._) Lay him on the sofa!--gently!--there place you head upon my arm. Where is it you're in pain? _Do_ tell us?

SWEET. Oh, oh--here--here--there! (_seated on sofa, C._)

MRS. SWEET. Run, Stephen, as fast as your legs will carry you for Mr. Sawbone.

SWEET. No, no, I won't see him, he'll cut both my legs off.

MRS. SWEET. (_to STEPHEN_) Get your hat, we'll send you word if you are to go.

STEPH. Yes, mum. (_aside as he goes out looking at SWEET_) Well, he _has_ gone and smashed his self.

_Exit, L. C._

SHORT. (_examining and bending first his legs and then his arms_) Courage! come, let me see where you're hurt.

SWEET. (_the moment he is touched_) Oh, oh!

SHORT. Have you broken a limb? (_examining_) No, your legs are all sound, and so are your arms. Come, sit up, man, you're more frightened than hurt.

MRS. SWEET. Mercy be praised! How thankful I am!

SHORT. (_to SWEET_) What a turn you have given me. Pour me out a glass of wine, Loo.

(_MRS. SHORT pours out a glass of wine, and as she is carrying it to him, MRS. SWEET takes it out of her hand, and gives it to SWEET, who drinks it_)

MRS. SWEET. (_to MRS. SHORT as she takes the wine_) Thank you.

SHORT. (_looking astonished_) That was meant for me!

MRS. SWEET. (_to SWEET, not hearing SHORT_) How are you now, my dear?

SWEET. Well, I feel a little better, but there's something gone! I'm sure I felt it go! (_unbuttoning his waistcoat and feeling_)

SHORT. Yes, it's one of your brace buttons, don't you see.

MRS. SHORT. (_to MRS. SWEET_) How pale you are, Fanny!

MRS. SWEET. (_recovering from her alarm_) It is passing off now. I have had a little fright, that's all.

SHORT. (_to SWEET_) You would go showing off your horsemanship, and see what has come of it.

SWEET. Not at all, I assure you. I was going along as quietly as possible, getting gradually more confident and comfortable, when all of a sudden a cursed little brute of a cur ran out of a yard close by, and flew at the horse's throat. I thought something was going to happen by the look of the mare's ears--and just as I was about to let go the bridle and catch hold of the mane, up went her heels into the air, and I was shot like a bullet from a gun slap over her head into the road.

SHORT. And poor little pug was kicked to death, I suppose.

SWEET. No, I had my revenge.

SHORT. How do you mean?

SWEET. Why, I came down in a sitting posture, plump on his back--one squeak, and it was all over.

MRS. SWEET. (_seeing that nothing is the matter with her husband_) Come, William, I think you are nearly all right again now.

SWEET. Yes, my dear, thank you, I shall get round again in a day or two, I dare say. You were far more frightened than I was.

MRS. SWEET. (_smiling_) Oh come, William, I am not quite so sure about that. Now the danger is over we can afford, you know, to laugh at it. (_playfully_) You were not _at all_ alarmed, were you, dear? Ha, ha! and the droll manner in which you fell, ha, ha!

SHORT. Exactly; it certainly broke his fall, and the dog's back at the same time. Much better than falling the other way. Ha, ha, ha!

MRS. SWEET. (_with good-humoured merriment_) Ha, ha, ha! Only picture to yourselves my husband's attitude after his descent, comfortably sitting in the middle of the road without his hat. Ha, ha, ha!

SHORT. Ha, ha, ha! With all the dirty little vagabonds in the parish gathered around him! Ha, ha, ha!

SWEET. (_getting offended_) I'm glad you're amused! I really don't see the joke.

MRS. SHORT. (_aside, to MRS. SWEET_) Don't, Fanny! he don't like it.

MRS. SWEET. (_thrusting her handkerchief in her mouth_) I oughtn't to laugh, perhaps, but I positively can't help it! Ha, ha, ha!

SHORT. No, it makes one laugh in spite of one'self! Ha, ha, ha!

SWEET. (_more offended_) Really, Mrs. Sweet, I consider this behaviour of yours very extraordinary--not to say disgusting! Here have I been within a hair's breadth of losing my life, and you are turning the whole thing into ridicule.

MRS. SWEET. Nay--now, don't be angry--I can't help myself. Ha, ha, ha!

SHORT. Ha, ha, ha! Just imagine our friend here magnificently enthroned in the gutter on the body of his prostrate enemy. Ha, ha, ha!

SWEET. Mr. Short--sir, leave off!

SHORT. Well, it is not my fault--it was your wife set me off. Ha, ha, ha!

SWEET. (_looking angrily at his wife_) Yes, I know it was; and her preposterous merriment explores her great want of feeling--the stony nature of her heart!

MRS. SWEET. (_trying in vain to repress her laughter_) Nay, now, Willie--

SWEET. Yes, ma'am, I repeat it--the stony nature of your heart!

MRS. SWEET. Now, Willie, it's ill-natured of you to say that. If I could, for laughing, I should be angry with you. Ha, ha, ha! I _cannot_ stop myself! Ha, ha, ha!

SWEET. Damn it, madam--will you leave off?

MRS. SWEET. I can't, William. Ha, ha, ha! The whole thing seems so absurd to me now it's all over, that I really can't contain myself! Ha, ha, ha! I shall do myself an injury! Ha, ha, ha! I'll go out of the room, since it offends you. Ha, ha, ha, ha!

_Exit, bursting with irresistible laughter, L. 2 E._

SWEET. (_pacing the stage in a passion_) Such scandalous want of feeling is abominable!--revolting!

MRS. SHORT. (_trying to pacify him_) Mr. Sweet, pray--

SWEET. (_interrupting her, and crossing to L._) No, Mrs. Short--I appeal to you--I appeal to you, ma'am--suppose this misfortune had happened to Short, do you think for one moment that _you_ would have been capable of such behaviour? (_crosses to R._)

SHORT. Ah, Sweet!--but there's no arguing by comparisons--all women are not of the same sensitive disposition as my Louisa. I flatter myself they don't all feel things alike.

MRS. SHORT. But Fanny is the most affectionate creature in the world, and I am sure, Mr. Sweet, is very sincerely attached to you. It was evidently quite an hysterical affection wholly beyond her power to control--one of those irresistible fits of laughter that we are all of us subject to at times.

SWEET. No, I shan't pass it off so easily, I assure you. How does she know what may be the end of it? There may be after symptoms.

MRS. SHORT. Oh, don't let us think of that--I trust that you are not seriously hurt. Come now, I'll go and fetch her--you must kiss and be friends--you must indeed.

_Enter MARIA, door, L. 2. E._

MARIA. My mistress wishes to see you, ma'am.

MRS. SHORT. Very well, Maria--I'll come directly.

_Exit MARIA, door, L. 2 E._

(_to SWEET_) There, you see, she has sent for me to make it up with you.

SWEET. Mrs. Short--listen to me.

MRS. SHORT. No, no--I'll not hear another word. You must be reconciled to your wife this very minute on pain of my severe displeasure. (_SWEET is about to object_) No, no, I can't hear you--not half a syllable--I shall run and fetch her.

_Exit, door, L. 2 E._

SWEET. What a treasure you have in that woman, Short--she is a perfect pattern--a model--an incomparable model of conjugal devotedness. It's a good thing for you I didn't see her first. (_sits on sofa, C._)

SHORT. My dear friend, women are neither more nor less than what we make them, at least in marriage. Louisa was not always the docile obedient wife you now see her, not of course till all the tomfoolery of the honeymoon was over, and I began to take the proper tone.

SWEET. (_rises_) Ah, why didn't _I_ take the proper tone.

SHORT. Exactly. (_rises_) But it requires a peculiar tact--the method of proceeding, I believe, is a secret not possessed by all.

SWEET. Take pity on me, Short--tell it me--show me how you do it, and you'll bind me to you for life.

SHORT. You want firmness--you give way--and when once a married man, you know, allows _two_ voices in his house, it soon ends in there being only _one_, and, you'll excuse me, Sweet, the result is, he is led by the nose by his own wife, as "Iago" says in the play, "as tenderly as asses are."

SWEET. Yes, I am afraid I _have_ been a very _great_ ass, but shall I suffer this state of things to go on till I become the laughing stock of all my friends? No, never! I can't sleep at nights for thinking of the difference between your wife and mine. Zounds! I'm resolved I won't put up with it any longer! I'll be as much master in my own house as you are--every jot as much. Who the devil are you that you should carry it over me in this sort of way? Do you hear what I say, Short? I insist upon being as much minded as you are, sir? I insist upon it! What can I do to show my authority? I have it! I won't go to the opera to-night!--I won't dine at Billington's--what do I care for his mock turtle!--d--n his milk punch! I know she has set her heart upon it, but I won't go. There'll be a precious kick up. She'll fly into a passion--fall a crying--perhaps, have a fit--and shall I give way? No, I'll stand like a rock!

SHORT. Well said! bravo! but you'll be sure to give in again.

SWEET. Give in--you shall see!

SHORT. If you only keep your word you'll be sure to succeed.

SWEET. Oh, I have been too much of a nincompoop all this while--too good-natured--too indulgent--too----

SHORT. Hush, they'll hear you! Here they come--now _mind._

SWEET. (L.) Don't you trouble yourself, I'm just in the humour for her!

_Enter MRS. SWEET and MRS. SHORT, door, L. 2 E.--MARIA following with an evening dress on her arm--STEPHEN enters, L. C., and wheels back sofa to R. in flat._

MRS. SHORT. Never mind, Fanny--why, what a child you are--don't let the dress put you out of temper, I am sure I can alter it for you. (_to MARIA_) Lay it carefully on the bed.

_Exit MARIA, door, L. 1 E._

(_to MRS. SWEET_) You must come and dress in my room.

MRS. SWEET. Was there ever anything so vexatious? Stupid creature! (_sits, L._)

_STEPHEN removes luncheon and exit, L. C._

SWEET. (_aside to MRS. SHORT_) Well?

MRS. SHORT. (_not at first understanding him_) Eh? Oh yes! (_aside_) Well, I spoke to her about it, and I am sure she is very sorry for what took place, so you mustn't think any more of it.

SHORT. (_aside to SWEET_) Be firm--show determination!

MRS. SHORT. (_aside to SWEET_) You promised me, you know, to make it up with her.

SHORT. (_aside to MRS. SHORT_) This is no place for us just now, hadn't you better go and dress?

MRS. SHORT. Wait a moment, I want just to speak----

SHORT. (_authoritatively_) My dear!

MRS. SHORT. (_intimidated_) Very well.

SWEET. (_observing them_) Astonishing! One work and he is obeyed at once.

SHORT. (_aside to SWEET_) Recollect!

SWEET. (_aside to SHORT_) Never fear.

SHORT. (_to his wife_) Now if you please.

_Exit SHORT and MRS. SHORT, door, L. 1 E._

SWEET. Mrs. Short is right--she seems vexed, perhaps she is really sorry.

MRS. SWEET. (_rising_) These things only happen to me.

SWEET. Whose fault is that, ma'am?

MRS. SWEET. How was I to know I should be so misunderstood?

SWEET. You should be more particular in what you say then. Think before you speak.

MRS. SWEET. Well, so I thought I did. I am quite grieved about it. (_rings bell_)

_Enter MARIA, door, L. 1 E._

MRS. SWEET. Has Mr. Billington's aunt sent the book of the fashions she promised the other day to Mrs. Short?

MARIA. No, ma'am.

MRS. SWEET. Send Stephen for it directly then, and as soon as it comes bring it to me--don't make any mistake now, bring it to me--you understand?

MARIA. Very well, ma'am.

_Exit, L. C._

SWEET. (_aside_) She is off at a tangent now, about her finery. (_aloud_) Your grief appears to be of short duration, ma'am.

MRS. SWEET. I am sure I was quite in despair about it, but Louisa has kindly undertaken to put matters to rights for me.

SWEET. Mrs. Short, then, has undertaken more than she has any authority for, and may find the task more difficult than she supposes.

MRS. SWEET. Oh, I hope not, but if she doesn't succeed, I shall go another way to work--a sharp knife will soon settle the business.

SWEET. (_staggers back horrified_) A sharp knife!--you alarm me. What for?

MRS. SWEET. What for?--why to rip up the seam of my dress to be sure--I want the upper skirt open at the side, trimmed with flowers--there's nothing more becoming.

SWEET. (_in disgust_) Trimmed with flowers! Fool, to suppose that _I_ was in any way concerned in your vexation.

MRS. SWEET. You--of course not--how should that concern you?

SWEET. You have the face to ask me the question after your scandalous behaviour just now?

MRS. SWEET. Oh, that's what you've been driving at all this while--I didn't understand you--you don't mean to say that you are still in a bad temper about my joking you. (_laughs_) There I ask your pardon? Shall I go down upon my knees?

SWEET. No, by no means; laugh again, ma'am, if you like--pray don't restrain yourself--but you will find for the future that I shan't give way to all your whims and fancies quite as easily as I have done--it doesn't answer. (_crosses to L._)

MRS. SWEET. Come, now Willie, I didn't mean to offend you, (_smiling_) the danger was all past you know.

SWEET. No, ma'am, I am not in a laughing humour to-day, and as I see nothing amusing in what has happened to me, and don't feel disposed to go out, you will be pleased to stay at home to-night, ma'am.

MRS. SWEET. (_smiling_) Very well.

SWEET. Yes, but I mean it, Mrs. Sweet; I am not well--I am suffering from the effects of my accident--wounded both in mind and body. (_crosses to R._)

MRS. SWEET. Where? Why didn't you see the doctor, then, when I wished you?

SWEET. Zounds, ma'am! a man may be wounded without having all his bones broken--besides, I am not obliged to give a reason--I don't choose to go, and I request you not to go either--I _order_ you not to go!

MRS. SWEET. Oh, very well, sir, as you please, of course; but since you feel yourself so very, very ill, why on earth don't you go to bed?

SWEET. Because I prefer to sit up. (_sits, R._)

MRS. SWEET. Then you must allow me to say that your not going to-night is a mere caprice, you would be just as well at the opera as sitting up in this room.

SWEET. Possibly! but I don't mean to put it to the proof.

MRS. SWEET. (_altering her manner_) What, not for _my_ sake, Willie, not if I coax you? I _do so_ wish to go, it is so seldom I have an opportunity of going to the opera.

SWEET. No, it's of no use--I tell you I won't go!

MRS. SWEET. Really, this behaviour is most unpardonable, why you are a completely altered man--I am surprised at you!

SWEET. Yes, ma'am, I _am_ altered--totally altered! (_crosses to L._) I have given way for the last time, and you'll be much _more_ surprised when you find that I am firm--determined--fixed!

MRS. SWEET. Well, I have never seen you in such a detestable temper before in all my life.

SWEET. You provoke me, ma'am! I am tired of being contradicted! Tired of it!

MRS. SWEET. What _can_ you mean, William? Why, if any one saw us we should be set down for the most unhappy couple in the world.

SWEET. So we are, Mrs. Sweet! so we are! although I wasn't aware of till we came down here a month ago to these lodgings with the Shorts,--I was contented enough before then, happy as the days were long--sometimes giving into _your_ way, sometimes getting my own,--but I was a fool then, and didn't know any better! Look at Short--my eyes are opened now--see how much happier he is with _his wife_ than _I_ am with _you!_ I wish, ma'am, to be obeyed like Short--to be observed like Short--to be doated on like Short--to be caressed like Short--to be petted like Short--to be patted like Short--to be _fat_ like Short! Why ain't I of as much consequence as he is? Why is he always obeyed when I am not? (_crosses to R._)

MRS. SWEET. Because he is less extravagant in his desires, I suppose.

SWEET. How, ma'am!

MRS. SWEET. Or else, perhaps, because he has a more amiable way of making his wishes understood. In a word--because he doesn't resemble you.

SWEET. This is downright personality--I give you fair warning--I am getting into a most enormous passion!

_Enter STEPHEN, L. C._

STEPH. Mr. Billington is here, ma'am.

SWEET. We're not at home. (_crosses to L._) What does he want?

STEPH. He says, sir, he waited this morning nearly an hour in front of the Crystal Palace, according to appointment, and finding that you didn't come he has called to enquire if there is anything the matter.

SWEET. We can't see him--we're not at home.

MRS. SWEET. Impossible, you can't mean it! What now, he is in the house?

SWEET. (_to STEPHEN_) Do you hear what I say?

_Exit STEPHEN, L. C._

MRS. SWEET. I never would have believed that you could have behaved like this--what _will_ Mr. Billington think of us?

SWEET. What do I care?

MRS. SWEET. You _must_ go to-night now, if it be only to apologize to him--after keeping him waiting, too, all the morning.

SWEET. It will be time enough to-morrow--I shall see him in the City.

MRS. SWEET. I don't understand your conduct, William--it must be simply to vex and annoy _me_, that you refuse to accompany me this evening.

SWEET. No, ma'am, I am acting advisedly, on principle.

MRS. SWEET. Very well, sir--I see your object. You have determined to make me unhappy, and you have perfectly succeeded. I am not accustomed to these insane transports of passion, without the slightest motive. Your cruel treatment has wounded me to that degree! (_crying_) What have I done to deserve it?

SWEET. (_softened_) Why, I can't help feeling----

MRS. SWEET. So happy as we always lived together, till we came down here. You'll repent of this behaviour before long, depend upon it. I see how it is--you want to make me your slave--the mere echo of your own lordly will. Very well, sir--I submit; henceforward, you shall find me the most submissive of wives--every wish shall be acquiesced in--every command obeyed: but--(_sobbing_)--I--I shall never--never love you any more! (_crossing, L., SWEET follows her, entreating, &c., down, C._)

SWEET. (_moved by her tears_) But Mrs. Sweet--Fanny--my dear--don't cry--you _shall_ go to the Opera--I'll go with you--we'll _all_ go to the Opera!

MRS. SWEET. (_sobbing_) Oh, how unhappy you have made me! (_sobbing_) I'll go,--go and dress myself, William, and then, perhaps, when you're left to yourself, you'll be sor--sorry for what you have done!

_Exit, sobbing, through door, L. 1 E._

SWEET. (_wiping his eyes_) I have behaved like a barbarian to her.

_Enter SHORT, door, L. 1 E._

SHORT. Well, did it succeed?

SWEET. (_testily_) No, it didn't.

SHORT. You astonish me.

SWEET. I am ten times more unhappy than I was before. I made her cry, and I can't bear it.

SHORT. Well, it is rather painful at first, but it will come easier by and bye.

SWEET. I tell you, then, I feel I have been making a brute of myself, all through your confounded advice.

SHORT. How, Sweet? What's that you say?

SWEET. Certainly! Haven't you been boasting about your happiness, and your influence over your wife, ever since you have been down here? What the devil was that to me? What was it to me whether she contradicted you or not? _My_ wife _was_ in the habit of contradicting me, and I was accustomed to it.

SHORT. Come--come!

SWEET. I shan't! I say you have destroyed all my domestic peace! (_crossing to L._)

SHORT. You misunderstand me, Sweet. Is that the way to talk to a friend?

SWEET. You are no friend of mine--you're an interfering meddling old fellow. That has always been your great fault--interfering in what doesn't concern you! (_sits, L._)

SHORT. Come, I say, that's a little too strong! Weren't you everlastingly boring me with your complaints--how I did this, and how I did t'other. Why I was always able to get my own way, when you couldn't get yours. Well, then, since you're so ungrateful--since you put me to it--I'll tell you why. Simply because your wife doesn't care a straw for you!

SWEET. (_rises_) Short!

SHORT. No, not a button, depend upon it.

SWEET. It's false--she does. Give me your reason for saying so.

SHORT. What better proof of it can you have than the fact of you not being happy with her? You see how happy I am with mine.

SWEET. Not happy with her! Do you mean seriously to insinuate that I am not happy with her? Take care what you are doing, Short. Don't try to disenchant my life with horrible suspicions, but even if it were so, I shall never win her back to me by violence and quarrelling. (_sits, L._)

SHORT. Of course not, I never think of quarrelling with my wife, and as to violence, I hate it--on the contrary, I sometimes show her little delicate attentions which women know well how to appreciate--for instance, she is going to the Opera to-night--well, what do I do? Why I send up to Covent Garden market, and buy her a bouquet. Billington was going to buy some for himself, and I entrusted him with the commission. (_SWEET rises and runs, C._) Where are you going?

SWEET. To buy something for my wife.

SHORT. Buy something--what?

SWEET. I don't know--anything--half a dozen things--everything I can find.

SHORT. Stay, stay!

SWEET. Don't hinder me! Let's see, have I any money--yes, all right! I'll tell them to send in their whole stock for selection--the first shop I come to.

SHORT. (_detaining him_) Sweet, don't be a fool--the first shop you come to's a pork butcher's!

_Enter MARIA, L. C., with the book of the fashions._

SWEET. Well, what do you want?

MARIA. I beg your pardon, sir, I though my mistress was here.

SWEET. She's in Mrs. Short's room. What's that? (_pointing to the book_)

MARIA. The fashion book, sir.

SWEET. A capital thought. Give it to me.

MARIA. My mistress told me most particularly, sir, not to give it to any one but her.

SWEET. Never mind; I'll take it to her myself. (_MARIA gives the book_) There, that will do. I'll see to it.

MARIA. Thank you, sir.

_Exit door, L. 2 E._

SWEET. I am glad I've got hold of this first; perhaps I shall be able to find something she might take a fancy to. I know her taste. (_opens the book_)

SHORT. (_aside_) He'll never get on with his wife; he has no tact--not the slightest. (_observing SWEET_) Good gracious! Sweet, what's the matter? don't you feel well?

SWEET. What's this?

SHORT. What is it? Why you see what it is; the book of the fashions.

SWEET. (L.) What can it mean?

SHORT. (_R.--looking into the book_) A note!

SWEET. Written in pencil! without address or signature!

SHORT. (_feeling for his spectacles_) Where are my spectacles?

SWEET. Why am I afraid to read it? Why do I tremble from head to foot? I am in a cold perspiration! Short!

SHORT. Written in pencil.

SWEET. I have seen the hand somewhere.

SHORT. Whose do you think it is?

SWEET. It strikes me all at once! It's Billington's!

SHORT. Stop an instant, let me go and find my glasses.

SWEET. (_seizing hold of his arm_) Did you mark what the girl said, that she was to be sure and give the book to nobody but my wife?

SHORT. Yes, I heard her say that.

SWEET. Let me read. (_reads_) "I waited for you all the morning." So he did!

SHORT. Go on.

SWEET. (_reads_) "I am afraid to ask why you didn't come. It is now five days since I have seen you; this is cruel, but I implore of you to give me an interview to-morrow in the lane at the back of the house at 2 o'clock if it be but for ten minutes. We shall meet this evening, but I shall have no opportunity of being alone with you. You will not refuse if you return the feelings that are consuming me."