Drawing Rooms, Second Floor, and Attics: A Farce, in One Act

by John Maddison Morton

TRIPTOLE. (assuming a woman’s voice, and turning his head away) I’m a married woman, sir, with a husband, sir, and ten children.

CAPT. H. Hold your stupid old tongue, do! and let me have a look at your figure head. (trying to pull him round)

TRIPTOLE. Is this the way you treat a poor lone widow with fourteen children?

CAPT. H. Fourteen! just now you said ten! In a word, old lady——

TRIPTOLE. Good morning! (making for door)

CAPT. H. Pshaw! (pulling him back)

Enter PHŒBE, hurriedly.

PHŒBE. (to ARABELLA) Here’s your charwoman, Mrs. Sheepshanks, wants to know if she can come up? (not noticing ARABELLA, who, by signs, tells her to hold her tongue)

CAPT. H. What’s that?—two Mrs. Longshanks! (pulling back TRIPTOLEMUS, who makes a sudden rush towards door) Then who the devil are you? (tears off his bonnet veil, discovering TRIPTOLEMUS, who has washed his face, and is now as pale as a sheet) Ah! (in a voice of thunder—TRIPTOLEMUS staggers, and falls into his arms)