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!