Married Life: A Comedy, in Three Acts

by John Baldwin Buckstone

Mrs. Y. I follow and torment you, sir?

Young. You do—often—often.

Mrs. Y. You’re an aggravating man, and——

Mrs. Dove. (Rising.)—Nay, nay; dear, dear; pray don’t get to words—my darling, Henry, hand that lady some wine; sit still, there’s a dear.—(to MRS. YOUNGHUSBAND)—Emulate Mr. Dove and me, we never utter a cross word to each other—do we, dear?

Dove. No, love.—(Handing wine to MRS. YOUNGHUSBAND.)

Mrs. Y. Take it away, sir, I don’t want wine. Oh, sir, you need not sit there looking so fierce; (to YOUNGHUSBAND)—I was certain we should have a disagreement before the day was out; you contradicted me about my silver thimble—you insisted that aunt Sarah gave it me.

Young. So she did.

Mrs. Y. She didn’t—’twas uncle Tolloday gave it me.

Young. ’Twas aunt Sarah.

Mrs. Y. Uncle Tolloday.