MRS. G. Mister Greenfinch!
GREEN. That’s my name, madam.
MRS. G. Answer me one question, sir, plainly and distinctly—am I, or am I not, your wife?
GREEN. Plainly and distinctly, then—No! (dances to the table and sings) Toll, loll, de roll, loll, doll, lay! (fills a glass of brandy) Ha, ha, ha, ha! I’ll give you a toast. Here’s “Lovely woman all over the world!” (drinks)
MRS. G. (apart to BETSY) Oh! he’s delirious! We’ve frightened him out of his senses. Look at his eye, Betsy—there’s madness in that eye.
BETSY. (apart) There’s brandy in it, mum; not madness.
MRS. G. (apart to BETSY) It won’t do to irritate him now. (to GREENFINCH) My dear Gregory, of course ’tis all a joke. (coaxingly) You remember me—your dotey little wife—your lovey dovey? Why don’t you speak to your own pidgey-widgey, and give her a toosey-woosey kiss?
GREEN. (aside, and turning away) Oh! this is too much for a husband’s feelings! (to MRS. G.) Don’t please—don’t talk that way; you don’t know me; I’m a domestic fiend—doomed for a certain time to walk this earth in patent leather boots. Farewell, farewell for ever! (he rushes into the garden through window at back)
MRS. G. Gregory, stop! I must follow him, Betsy, or he’ll do himself an injury.
BETSY. La! mum, he’s not mad enough for that yet. Don’t think of following him, or you’ll spoil all we’ve done; he’s not half punished yet.