WOOD. (same play) Hush, Swansdown!
SWANS. A letter! a declaration! addressed to my wife by—your husband!
MRS. L. (suddenly stopping) Christopher unfaithful! Support me! (falling into WOODCOCK’S arms, who quite bewildered goes on dancing the polka)
Enter MRS. CARVER, C. from L.
MRS. C. (seeing MRS. LARKINGS in WOODCOCK’S arm) Ah! Support me! (falling into WOODCOCK’S other arm, who, still more bewildered, unconsciously keeps up a polka step)
Enter LARKINGS, C. from L.
LARK. Ah! (about to run to MRS. LARKINGS)
SWANS. (stopping him) One moment! (drags him forward—then, savagely aside to him) We must fight, sir. I know all! all!
LARK. (aside) The devil! (aloud) Well, sir, to-morrow morning!
SWANS. No! Now! Now! it’s a moonlight night! Primrose Hill close at hand, and I’ve pistols in my pocket! Woodcock! (to WOODCOCK, who has placed MRS. LARKINGS and MRS. CARVER each in a chair and is fanning them alternately, still dancing a polka step—SWANSDOWN goes up, seizes WOODCOCK by the arm, and drags him down—aside to him) You’ll be my second? I’m going to shoot Larkings!