Mrs. Young. Shall I read it, Mrs. Coddle?
Mrs. Cod. Yes, yes, aloud—aloud—let the whole world hear it.
Mrs. Y. Reading—“Madam, the writer of this is an injured woman—the monster——
Cod. That’s me—oh—
Mrs. Y. “The monster to whom you are married, has another wife. I am that person; the enclosed is a copy of my marriage certificate—’tis dated twenty years back; my object in coming to England is to claim a maintenance, and expose the villain.
“Your obedient Servant,
“Belvidera Coddle.”
All. Bless me! dear, dear, dear! What a wretch—what a monster!
Mrs. Lynx. The poor woman had better be asked up.
Coddle. (Springing from his chair.)—No, no! I’d sooner face a thousand fiends than look once again on that dreadful being. My dear, my love!—(to his wife)—you don’t know what I have suffered—what I have endured through that woman! In the first place, I was decoyed—trapped; she left me—I once thought she was dead—but——