MRS. C. Oh, Marmy! (a fresh burst of sobbing)
WOOD. Oh, Carver! (ditto)
MRS. C. (suddenly) There’s only one thing to be done! go back at once to Stow-on-the-Wold, (WOODCOCK winks, aside) and there, with your dear Caroline——
WOOD. (putting on a very excited manner) It’s too late now; if you had let me stop at Stow-on-the-Wold, I should have been perfectly satisfied with my “dear Caroline;” but you would bring me to London—you know you would, and what’s the result? that one dear Caroline isn’t enough for me! I must have a dozen—two dozen—three dozen “dear Carolines!” an unlimited quantity of “dear Carolines!!” (very wildly)
MRS. C. (indignantly) Silence! reprobate!
WOOD. Gently, Carver! gently! I’m not going to be bullied! dash my wig if I am!
MRS. C. Mr. Woodcock!
WOOD. I can’t help it! You’ve done it, Carver! I love!—I adore the whole sex! You’re a fine woman, Carver!—I love you!—Come to my arms, Carver! (making a rush open-armed at MRS. CARVER, who, alarmed, avoids him)
MRS. C. (alarmed) The man’s mad! I’m ashamed of you!
WOOD. So am I! But you would bring me to London! you know you would! (trying again to throw his arms round her)