The Magistrate: A Farce in Three Acts

by Arthur Wing Pinero

Lukyn.

Confound you, Posket—listen!

Mr. Posket.

I am listening, sir, to the guiding voice of Mrs. Posket—that newly-made wife still blushing from the embarrassment of her second marriage, and that voice says, “Strike for the sanctity of hearth and home, for the credit of the wives of England—no mercy!”

Mr. Wormington.

It is time to go into Court, sir. The charge against Colonel Lukyn is first on the list.

Lukyn.

Posket, I’ll give you one last chance! If I write upon a scrap of paper the real names of these two unfortunate ladies, will you shut yourself up for a moment, away from observation, and read these names before you go into Court?

Mr. Posket.

Certainly not, Colonel Lukyn! I cannot be influenced by private information in dealing with an offence which is, in my opinion, as black as—as my cravat! Ahem!