Married Life: A Comedy, in Three Acts

by John Baldwin Buckstone

Mrs. Lynx. Yes, yes—pray tell me.

Mrs. Y. Well, then—Mrs. Dove, you must know, was a widow; and formerly the mistress of a large boarding school; but has now retired, after marrying her footman. They are the oddest couple you ever met with. She is perpetually drilling her husband into politeness and correct pronunciation, which the poor man will never comprehend as long as he lives. Oh, had you but seen them last night! whenever a bell rang, poor Mr. Dove could scarcely help starting from his chair, and running to attend to it; and could only be checked by the alarming eyes of Mrs. Dove. Ha! ha!—Oh, those eyes—how they did remind me of my school-days! just the looks that she used to dart at us, poor refractory girls.

Young. My dear, why don’t you keep to that portion of the narrative, most interesting to Mrs. Lynx; she don’t want to hear of great eyes and refractory girls.

Mrs. Y. I am sure I have mentioned all that is necessary.

Young. You have not.

Mrs. Y. I have.

Young. You have not.

Mrs. Ly. Ask them to walk up, I shall then be satisfied.

Mrs. Y. (Calling.)—Step up, Mrs. Dove, and bring your husband with you.

Young. There is no necessity for calling up Mr. Dove.