SWEET. What, not after he has seduced my wife’s affections?
SHORT. (aside) What a lucky thing Louisa never asked him to call.
SWEET. Fight him, yes! across a handkerchief, in my shirt sleeves, with a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other; you surely don’t mean that you would be likely to take any active steps to prevent the meeting?
SHORT. Certainly not, if you don’t wish it.
SWEET. What you wouldn’t for instance, you think, be likely to go before a magistrate, or anything of that sort?
SHORT. (laying his hand upon his heart) You may rely upon my friendship for not interfering.
SWEET. (aside) He can’t be in earnest. (aloud) Why you are as bloodthirsty as I am—the traitress! that was why she was so anxious to see him when he called; that was why she wanted to go the Opera to-night. But let me seek for some further proof against her—something to utterly confound her. (he begins to read the letter to himself)
SHORT. (also trying to read the letter over SWEET’S shoulder) I can’t see a word without my glasses, what can I have done with them? Wait a moment, they must be somewhere in the room. (he goes to the back of the stage to look for his glasses, and discovers to the Audience that they are hanging at his back)
SWEET. (reading to himself in a low tone, while SHORT is searching for his spectacles at the back) Ah! “If you grant my request, carry the bouquet of violets to-night, which I have taken measures for your receiving from a safe hand, which can awaken no suspicion.” (aloud—shouting) The viper!