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_) MRS. C. Help! _Enter MAIDSERVANT, running, R._ Oh, Susan! (_running to her_) WOOD. Oh, that's Susan, is it? Lovely Susan! embrace your Woodcock! (_rushes with open arms at SUSAN, who, alarmed, rushes out screaming_) MRS. C. (_clasping her hands_) And this is my work! WOOD. Yes, you've done it Carver! never mind; don't cry, old girl! (_throwing his arm round MRS. CARVER'S neck_) MRS. C. Oh, Marmy, Marmy, if you've any love for Caroline, leave this wicked, abominable, detestable town this very morning by the very first train, and go back to Stow-on-the-Wold--I implore! I entreat you! WOOD. (_after a pretended struggle with himself, then smiling benignantly_) Carver, your tears have conquered! do with me as you will. (_throws himself into her arms and makes a wry face over her shoulder, then looking towards L._) Swansdown! what the deuce can he want? (_retiring to back as SWANSDOWN enters, L._) SWANS. (_as he enters_) It's all right, Woodcock---- (_seeing MRS. CARVER_) Madam--I---- MRS. C. Mr. Swansdown, I know all; your duel with my unhappy son-in-law---- SWANS. (_aside_) Bravo! she's on the wrong scent. (_aloud_) Well, madam, I presume I have as much right to sympathize with the Federals as he has with the Confederates? WOOD. (_who has been trying to attract SWANSDOWN'S notice by making signals_) He's made a mess of it! I knew he would. MRS. C. Federals--Confederates! I see--a subterfuge to conceal the _real_ cause of your quarrel. You may rely on receiving a letter of apology--ample apology from Mr. Woodcock! SWANS. Not till he's recovered the use of his right arm, I beg. WOOD. (_behind_) Eh? of course; it was the _right_ arm! (_taking his left arm out of the sling and inserting the right_) MRS. C. The _right_ arm, you mean the _left._ (_WOODCOCK changes arms again_) SWANS. The right! I think I ought to know. MRS. C. The left! I suppose I can believe my eyes. SWANS. Right! MRS. C. Left! SWANS. Right! } } (_louder_) MRS. C. Left! }