Married Life: A Comedy, in Three Acts

by John Baldwin Buckstone

Mrs. Dove. Pointed.

Dove. Pointed. You use me shameful, dear.

Mrs. Dove. Don’t be an idiot, love.

Dove. You’re a brute, precious.

Mrs. Dove. Henry.—(Looking fiercely at him.)

Dove. Oh them eyes—I never can answer ’em.

Mrs. Dove. Then to-morrow at five, Mrs. Lynx.

Mrs. Ly. I shall rely on you being here—you will not disappoint me?—

Mrs. Dove. Certainly not. Good morning, Madam.—Now, Henry, your arm.

Mrs. Ly. The servant shall see you to the door.—(MRS. LYNX pulls a bell-rope hanging by the side of the fire-place; a bell rings. DOVE suddenly starts, and is running confusedly as if to answer it, when MRS. DOVE checks him.)