ACT II.

SCENE--_Handsomely furnished Apartment at Mr. Larkings'. Large folding doors at C., 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. and L. Very loud double knock heard._

MAID. (_outside_) This way if you please, ladies.

_Enter MRS. CARVER and MRS. WOODCOCK, at L., preceded by LADY'S MAID--the LADIES are 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.

_Enter WOODCOCK, 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 off MRS. WOODCOCK'S cloak_)

MRS. C. Now, Marmy, make yourself useful! (_motioning him to take off her cloak_)

WOOD. Eh? oh, I know! (_taking hold of MRS. CARVER'S cloak behind and giving it a violent tug_)

MRS. C. How clumsy you are to be sure! (_MAID assists 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. (_to MAID_) 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! (_MAID goes 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.

_Enter MRS. LARKINGS, at C., in fashionable evening dress.--LADIES and GENTLEMEN are 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 door R., 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--(_to MRS. 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. LARKINGS looks aside at WOODCOCK--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 at WOODCOCK_) Some people might imagine it was to prevent its being found!

MRS. C. _and_ MRS. 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----

_Enter DAVID, at L., 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! (_to DAVID_) A quarter past two,

MRS. W. I said, half-past! (_smiling_)

WOOD. (_shouting, L._) Half-past!

_Exit DAVID, 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. (_to MRS. LARKINGS_) We've settled our costume, my dear! Caroline is going as Little Red Riding Hood, Marmy as a Neapolitan brigand--(_WOODCOCK makes a wry face_)--and I--_à la Pompadour_!

WOOD. (_aside_) I don't exactly know what a _pumpadoor_ is, 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.

_Exeunt MRS. LARKINGS, MRS. CARVER, and MRS. WOODCOCK at door, C. to L.--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.

_Enter SWANSDOWN in evening dress at C. from L._

SWANS. (_going to door R., and taking ticket out of his pocket_) Ticket No. 37. (_MAID appears, takes ticket, and disappears_)

WOOD. Why, that's Swansdown! he's actually giving up his ticket!

SWANS. (_seeing WOODCOCK_) Ah, Woodcock! how d'ye do? (_receiving a hat and cloak from MAID, and coming forward putting them on_) That'll do! Good night, Woodcock! (_crosses to L._)

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, WOODCOCK does 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 grasping SWANSDOWN'S hand, 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!

_Exit SWANSDOWN, 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----

_Enter LARKINGS at C. in very fashionable evening costume._

LARK. (_R. C., seeing WOODCOCK_) 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! (_poking WOODCOCK in 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!

_LARKINGS runs out at C. to L._

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!

_Enter MRS. WOODCOCK, at C. from L._

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 between MRS. WOODCOCK and the clock, moves aside_) I repeat, it's _quite 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, including MRS. LARKINGS and MRS. CARVER, come in at C., dancing the polka--the last couple consisting of MRS. CARVER and a very YOUNG MAN--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? (_to MRS. WOODCOCK_)

MRS. W. Look at the clock, mamma!

MRS. C. Half-past two!

_Enter LARKINGS, at C. from L._

LARK. What's that? Half-past two? No such thing, gentlemen--I appeal to you! Out with your watches! (_LARKINGS and GENTLEMEN take out their watches--each presenting his to his LADY_)

LARK. } } Half-past one! GENTS. }

MRS. W. Another hour! Delightful!

MRS. C. Charming! (_polka music resumed_) Mrs. Woodcock, allow me. (_polka--MRS. CARVER seizing her former partner and whirling him out after the others, at C. to L._)

WOOD. (_who has been standing looking on with the opera cloaks, &c., &c., in his arms--dashes them down in a lump 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----

_SWANSDOWN hurries in, at L., 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! (_grasping WOODCOCK'S arm_) 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!

_Enter MRS. LARKINGS, at C. from L._

WOOD. No--no! (_holding SWANSDOWN back, who tries to join MRS. LARKINGS_)

MRS. L. (_R._) Still here, Mr. Swansdown, then I shall claim you for my partner in the polka!

WOOD. (_aside to SWANSDOWN_) A thousand pardons, madam----

MRS. L. Refuse a lady? Fie--nay, I insist upon it!

(_polka music without--SWANSDOWN begins very unwillingly to dance with MRS. LARKINGS--WOODCOCK anxiously 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 to MRS. 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 to SWANSDOWN_) 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 to MRS. 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 into WOODCOCK'S arms, who quite bewildered goes on dancing the polka_)

_Enter MRS. CARVER, C. from L._

MRS. C. (_seeing MRS. LARKINGS in WOODCOCK'S arm_) Ah! Support me! (_falling into WOODCOCK'S other arm, who, still more bewildered, unconsciously keeps up a polka step_)

_Enter LARKINGS, C. from L._

LARK. Ah! (_about to run to MRS. 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! (_to WOODCOCK, who has placed MRS. LARKINGS and MRS. CARVER each in a chair and is fanning them alternately, still dancing a polka step--SWANSDOWN goes up, seizes WOODCOCK by the arm, and drags him down--aside to him_) You'll be my second? I'm going to shoot Larkings!

LARK. (_grasping WOODCOCK'S other arm_) You'll be my second? I'm going to shoot Swansdown!

SWANS. } } Come! LARK. }

_They drag WOODCOCK out between them at L., WOODCOCK struggling, &c._

MRS. C. (_who recovers and runs to MRS. 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! I never 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 at C. to L.--MRS. CARVER supporting MRS. LARKINGS, at the same moment the door, L., slowly opens, and WOODCOCK peeps in, then speaks off._

WOOD. The coast is clear; you can come in.

_Enter LARKINGS with his right arm in a sling--SWANSDOWN following, 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! (_to LARKINGS_) 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 serve _me_ the same if _I_ were to--by jingo! it's worth thinking about. (_aloud_) But how _is_ Mrs. Larkings to know anything about it? _I_ shan'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 I _don't_ send 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 save _you_ (_to SWANSDOWN_) from being laughed at; _you_ (_to LARKINGS_) 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! (_to SWANSDOWN_) 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.

_SWANSDOWN hurries out at L._

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 at L._

_Enter MRS. LARKINGS and MRS. 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_)

_Enter DAVID, L._

DAVID. (_to MRS. 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 from DAVID, but keeping her eyes fixed on LARKINGS, who tries to appear unconcerned, and endeavours to get up a whistle_) You may go, David!

_Exit DAVID, L._

LARK. (_aside_) Woodcock's gone and bungled the business--I knew he would. (_MRS. LARKINGS tears 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 round LARKINGS_) 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 to MRS. C., and making another spring at LARKINGS, who keeps her off_)

MRS. C. (_reading letter_) "To see you is to----" (_suddenly, and with a violent scream_) Ah!

MRS. L. _and_ LARK. (_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 is _his!_ (_LARKINGS laughs 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 at LARKINGS_) 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!

_Enter DAVID, 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 (_LARKINGS pricks up his ears_) he picked up this card case, ma'am! (_LARKINGS hastily fumbles in all his pockets_)

LARK. (_aside_) Mine, by Jupiter!

DAVID. So he opens it, ma'am, and--(_to LARKINGS who is making violent signs to him to hold his tongue_) What's the matter, sir? (_MRS. LARKINGS turns towards LARKINGS, 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. (_to LARKINGS, 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. (_seeing LARKINGS again making signals to him_) Yes, sir! (_MRS. LARKINGS looks round and LARKINGS again 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 this LARKINGS has been again repeating his signals to him_)

MRS. L. You can go, David.

_Exit DAVID, at L._

Larkings! (_eagerly to him_) what does this mean? Speak, Christopher--what has happened? (_grasping LARKINGS'S arm, 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 that _you_ wrote 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 to R._)

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 about _that._

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 sees WOODCOCK, who enters at L., with his left arm in a sling--aside_) Huzzah! he's got his arm in a sling!

MRS. L. (_looking at WOODCOCK, 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 the _wrong_ arm in the sling! Ahem! (_making violent signs to WOODCOCK to change arms_)

MRS. L. (_looking at WOODCOCK_) Why, how's this? (_to LARKINGS_) 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!

_Enter MRS. CARVER, hurriedly, R., and sees WOODCOCK with his arm in the sling._

MRS. C. (_assuming a very pathetic attitude_) Ah! it's true! (_screams and falls into chair, MRS. LARKINGS runs to her--WOODCOCK and LARKINGS exchange winks and laugh_)

MRS. L. (_to MRS. 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 to MRS. 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!

_Exit MRS. LARKINGS, C., followed by LARKINGS, who again exchanges winks, &c., with WOODCOCK._

MRS. C. (_watching them out and then turning to WOODCOCK, who looks at her and then turns his head away as if ashamed of himself_) Am I awake? or is it a dream--a nightmare? 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! (_imitating MRS. 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! You _would_ bring 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, you _would_ bring 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, (_WOODCOCK winks, 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! I love!--I adore the whole sex! _You're_ a fine woman, Carver!--I love _you!_--Come to my arms, Carver! (_making a rush open-armed at MRS. 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!

_Enter MAIDSERVANT, running, R._

Oh, Susan! (_running to her_)

WOOD. Oh, that's Susan, is it? Lovely Susan! embrace your Woodcock! (_rushes with open arms at SUSAN, 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 round MRS. CARVER'S neck_)

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 towards L._) Swansdown! what the deuce can he want? (_retiring to back as SWANSDOWN enters, L._)

SWANS. (_as he enters_) It's all right, Woodcock---- (_seeing MRS. 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 attract SWANSDOWN'S notice by making signals_) He's made a mess of it! I knew he would.

MRS. C. Federals--Confederates! I see--a subterfuge to conceal the _real_ cause of your quarrel. You may rely on 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 the _right_ arm! (_taking his left arm out of the sling and inserting the right_)

MRS. C. The _right_ arm, you mean the _left._ (_WOODCOCK changes 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_)

_Enter MRS. LARKINGS hurriedly, at C. from L._

MRS. L. (_running to WOODCOCK_) She's here--Caroline! she's heard of the duel; that you are wounded in the right arm--(_WOODCOCK who has both arms in the sling, draws out the left_) though of course I knew it was the left, (_WOODCOCK changes 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 off WOODCOCK'S neck_)

_Enter MRS. WOODCOCK, hurriedly C. from L._

MRS. W. (_running to WOODCOCK_) You are not wounded? it was not you then--Oh, I'm so happy! (_here LARKINGS appears at C._)

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 to LARKINGS, who is about to speak_) Hush! You'll have to wear the sling for a week. I'll tell you why another time!

LARK. With all my heart. (_aside to WOODCOCK shaking his hand_) Thanks to you, my wife suspects nothing!

SWANS. (_aside, to WOODCOCK, and shaking WOODCOCK'S other 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'S LITTLE GAME!"

_Curtain._

Transcriber's Note

This transcription is based on a copy of the Samuel French edition, scans of which have been posted on the Internet Archive at:

https://archive.org/details/MortonWoodcocksLittleGame

Because of the print quality of the Samuel French edition, an American reprint published by Harold Roorbach in 1889 was used as an additional resource. Scans of the copy held by the Library of Congress are posted at:

https://archive.org/details/woodcockslittleg00mort

In general, this transcription attempts to retain the formatting, punctuation and spelling of the source text. Variant spellings such as "bran-new" and "trowsers" have been retained as have some inconsistencies in spelling, such as "ball room" vs. "ball-room" and "thank'ee" vs. "thankee". Some changes were made to correct for printing errors and for minor inconsistencies in formatting, punctuation and spelling.

The following changes were made to the text:

-- p. 2: The upper right side of this page in the Samuel French edition was blank. Thus, the name of the theater and the last names of the actors were corrected or added based on the Roorbach edition.

-- p. 4: there's not the slightest doubt about it's being all over!--Change "it's" to "its".

-- pp. 6-7: Yes, fair lady. I entered the holy state of wedlock--Changed what appears to be a period to a comma in keeping with the Roorbach edition.

-- p. 8: The gap! _she_ is under twenty, while you --how old shall we say?--Inserted "are" in the blank space after "you" based on the Roorbach edition.

-- p. 10: I could'nt have believed it of you--Changed "could'nt" to "couldn't".

-- p. 11: (_taking hold of MRS. LARKING'S hand_)--Changed "LARKING'S" to "LARKINGS'S" for consistency.

-- p. 13: he actually expressed his his intention of laying aside--Deleted the second "his".

-- pp. 13-14: (_banging her hand on one of the parcels to Woodcock's great alarm_)--Changed "_Woodcock's_" to "WOODCOCK'S" for consistency.

-- p. 14: Yes; embroidered, no doubt, by some unhappy creature he had professed to me as he did me.--Changed "me" after "professed to" to "love" based on the Roorbach edition.

-- p. 17: _Enter MRS LARKINGS in travelling dress, door R. 2 E._--Inserted a period after "MRS".

-- p. 19: (_taking off Mrs. Woodcock's cloak_)--Changed "_Mrs. Woodcock's_" to "MRS. WOODCOCK'S" for consistency.

-- p. 19: (_taking hold of Mrs. Carver's cloak behind and giving it a violent tug_)--Changed "_Mrs. Carver's_" to "MRS. CARVER'S" for consistency.

-- p. 20: _Enter MRS. LARKINGS, at C., in fashionable evening dress.--LADIES and GENTLEMEN are seen promenading within--Music_)--Changed the closing parenthesis to a period.

-- p. 22: (_to MRS. LARKINGS_) we've settled our costume, my dear!--Capitalized "we've".

-- p. 28: WOOD. (_still dancing after them, and aside to MRS. SWANSDOWN_) Don't tell him that, mum--As Mrs. Larkings has the previous line, changed "MRS. SWANSDOWN" to "MRS. LARKINGS".

-- p. 28: MR. L. Luckily, I'm not jealous!--Changed the character title "MR. L." to "MRS. L." in keeping with the Roorbach edition.

-- p. 29: MRS C. (_R. C._) My dear friend, never indulge in a plurality of epithets--Inserted a period after "MRS".

-- p. 31: But how _is_ Mrs Larkings to know anything about it?--Inserted a period after "Mrs".

-- p. 33: Confound it! how she's hurting me?--Changed the question mark to an exclamation mark in keeping with the Roorbach edition.

-- p. 34: DAVID. So he opens it, ma'am, and (_to LARKINGS who is making violent signs to him to hold his tongue_) What's the matter, sir?--Inserted an em dash after "and".

End of Project Gutenberg's Woodcock's Little Game, by John Maddison Morton