The Way of the World Way of the World The EMOTHE0313

Source text for this digital edition:
Congreve, William. The Way of the World. Edited by Kathleen M. Lynch. University of Nebraska Press, 1965. Regents Restoration Drama Series.

Digital text editor for EMOTHE:

Tronch Pérez, Jesus

Note on this digital edition

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE RALPH; EARL OF MONTAGUE, &.

My Lord,
Whether the world will arraign me of vanity or not, that
I have presumed to dedicate this comedy to your Lordship,
I am yet in doubt, though it may be it is some degree of
vanity even to doubt of it. One who has at any time had
the honor of your Lordship’s conversation, cannot be
supposed to think very meanly of that which he would prefer
to your perusal; yet it were to incur the imputation of too
much sufficiency, to pretend to such a merit as might abide
the test of your Lordship’s censure.
Whatever value may be wanting to this play while yet it
is mine, will be sufficiently made up to it when it is once
become your Lordship’s; and it is my security that I cannot
have overrated it more by my dedication than your Lordship
will dignify it by your patronage.
That it succeeded on the stage was almost beyond my
expectation; for but little of it was prepared for that general
taste which seems now to be predominant in the palates of
our audience.
Those characters which are meant to be ridiculous in most
of our comedies are of fools so gross that, in my humble
opinion, they should rather disturb than divert the well-natured
and reflecting part of an audience; they are rather
objects of charity than contempt; and instead of moving our
mirth, they ought very often to excite our compassion.
This reflection moved me to design some characters which
should appear ridiculous, not so much through a natural
folly (which is incorrigible, and therefore not proper for
the stage) as through an affected wit; a wit, which, at the
same time that it is affected, is also false. As there is some
difficulty in the formation of a character of this nature, so
there is some hazard which attends the progress of its
success upon the stage; for many come to a play so over-charged
with criticism that they very often let fly their
censure, when through their rashness they have mistaken
their aim. This I had occasion lately to observe; for this
play had been acted two or three days before some of these
hasty judges could find the leisure to distinguish betwixt the
character of a Witwoud and a Truewit.
I must beg your Lordship’s pardon for this digression
from the true course of this epistle; but that it may not
seem altogether impertinent, I beg that I may plead the
occasion of it, in part of that excuse of which I stand in need,
for recommending this comedy to your protection. It is
only by the countenance of your Lordship, and the few so
qualified, that such who write with care and pains can hope
to be distinguished; for the prostituted name of poet promiscuously
levels all that bear it.
Terence, the most correct writer in the world, had a
Scipio and a Laelius, if not to assist him, at least to support
him in his reputation; and notwithstanding his extra-
ordinary merit, it may be their countenance was not more
than necessary.
The purity of his style, the delicacy of his turns, and the
justness of his characters were all of them beauties which the
greater part of his audience were incapable of tasting; some
of the coarsest strokes of Plautus, so severely censured by
Horace, were more likely to affect the multitude, such who
come with expectation to laugh out the last act of a play,
and are better entertained with two or three unseasonable
jests than with the artful solution of the fable.
As Terence excelled in his performances, so had he great
advantages to encourage his undertakings, for he built most
on the foundations of Menander; his plots were generally
modeled, and his characters ready drawn to his hand. He
copied Menander, and Menander had no less light in the
formation of his characters from the observations of Theophrastus,
of whom he was a disciple, but the immediate successor
of Aristotle, the first and greatest judge of poetry. These
were great models to design by; and the further advantage
which Terence possessed, towards giving his plays the due
ornaments of purity of style and justness of manners, was
not less considerable from the freedom of conversation which
was permitted him with Laelius and Scipio, two of the greatest
and most polite men of his age. And indeed the privilege
of such a conversation is the only certain means of attaining
to the perfection of dialogue.
If it has happened in any part of this comedy that I have
gained a turn of style or expression more correct, or at least
more corrigible, than in those which I have formerly
written, I must, with equal pride and gratitude, ascribe it
to the honor of your Lordship’s admitting me into your
conversation, and that of a society where everybody else was
so well worthy of you, in your retirement last summer from
the town; for it was immediately after that this comedy was
written. If I have failed in my performance, it is only to be
regretted, where there were so many not inferior either to a
Scipio or a Laelius, that there should be one wanting equal
to the capacity of a Terence.
If I am not mistaken, poetry is almost the only art which
has not yet laid claim to your Lordship’s patronage. Architecture
and painting, to the great honor of our country,
have flourished under your influence and protection. In the
meantime, poetry, the eldest sister of all arts, and parent
of most, seems to have resigned her birthday, by having
neglected to pay her duty to your Lordship, and by permitting
others of a later extraction to prepossess that place in
your esteem to which none can pretend a better title. Poetry,
in its nature, is sacred to the good and great; the relation
between them is reciprocal, and they are ever propitious to
it. It is the privilege of poetry to address to them, and it is
their prerogative alone to give it protection.
This received maxim is a general apology for all writers
who consecrate their labors to great men; but I could wish
at this time that this address were exempted from the
common pretense of all dedications; and that, as I can
distinguish your Lordship even among the most deserving, so
this offering might become remarkable by some particular
instance of respect, which should assure your Lordship that I
am, with all due sense of your extreme worthiness and
humanity,
My Lord,
Your Lordship’s most obedient
and most obliged humble servant
Will. Congreve

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Fainall in love with Mrs. Marwood

Mirabell in love with Mrs. Millamant

Witwoud }

Petulant } Followers of Mrs. Millamant

Sir Wilfull Witwoud Half-brother to Witwoud, and Nephew to Lady Wishfort

Waitwell Servant to Mirabell

Lady Wishfort Enemy to Mirabell, for having falsely pretended love to her

Mrs. Millamant A fine Lady, Niece to Lady Wishfort, and loves Mirabell

Mrs. Marwood Friend to Mr. Fainall, and likes Mirabell

Mrs. Fainall Daughter to Lady Wishfort, and Wife to Fainall, formerly Friend to Mirabell

Foible Woman to Lady Wishfort

Mincing Woman to Mrs. Millamant

Dancers, Footmen, and Attendants

SCENE—LONDON
The time equal to that of the presentation.

[I]

A Chocolate-house.

Mirabell and Fainall, rising from cards; Betty waiting.

MIRABELL.

1You are a fortunate man, Mr. Fainall.

FAINALL.

2Have we done?

MIRABELL.

3What you please. I’ll play on to entertain you.

FAINALL.

4No, I’ll give you your revenge another time, when you are 5not so indifferent; you are thinking of something else now, 6and play too negligently. The coldness of a losing gamester 7lessens the pleasure of the winner. I’d no more play with a 8man that slighted his ill fortune than I’d make love to a 9woman who undervalued the loss of her reputation.

MIRABELL.

10You have a taste extremely delicate and are for refining on 11your pleasures.

FAINALL.

12Prithee, why so reserved? Something has put you out of 13humor.

MIRABELL.

14Not at all; I happen to be grave today, and you are gay; 15that’s all.

FAINALL.

16Confess, Millamant and you quarreled last night, after I 17left you; my fair cousin has some humors that would tempt 18the patience of a stoic. What, some coxcomb came in, and 19was well received by her, while you were by.

MIRABELL.

20Witwoud and Petulant, and what was worse, her aunt, your 21wife’s mother, my evil genius; or to sum up all in her own 22name, my old Lady Wishfort came in.

FAINALL.

23Oh, there it is then! She has a lasting passion for you, and 24with reason. What, then my wife was there?

MIRABELL.

25Yes, and Mrs. Marwood and three or four more, whom I 26never saw before. Seeing me, they all put on their grave 27faces, whispered one another; then complained aloud of the 28vapors, and after fell into a profound silence.

FAINALL.

29They had a mind to be rid of you.

MIRABELL.

30For which reason I resolved not to stir. At last the good old 31lady broke through her painful taciturnity, with an invective 32against long visits. I would not have understood her, but 33Millamant joining in the argument, I rose and with a con- 34strained smile told her, I though nothing was so easy as to 35know when a visit began to be troublesome. She reddened 36and I withdrew, without expecting her reply.

FAINALL.

37You were to blame to resent what she spoke only in com- 38pliance with her aunt.

MIRABELL.

39She is more mistress of herself than to be under the 40necessity of such a resignation.

FAINALL.

41What? though half her fortune depends upon her marrying 42with my lady’s approbation?

MIRABELL.

43I was then in such a humor, that I should have been better 44pleased if she had been less discreet.

FAINALL.

45Now I remember, I wonder not they were weary of you. 46Last night was one of their cabal-nights; they have ’em three 47times a week, and meet by turns, at one another’s apart- 48ments, where they come together like the coroner’s inquest, 49to sit upon the murdered reputation of the week. You and 50I are excluded; and it was once proposed that all the male 51sex should be excepted; but somebody moved that, to 52avoid scandal, there might be one man of the community; 53upon which motion Witwoud and Petulant were enrolled 54members.

MIRABELL.

55And who may have been the foundress of this sect? My 56Lady Wishfort, I warrant, who published her detestation 57of mankind, and full of the vigor of fifty-five, declares for 58a friend and ratafia; and let posterity shift for itself, she’ll 59breed no more.

FAINALL.

60The discovery of your sham addresses to her, to conceal 61your love to her niece, has provoked this separation. Had 62you dissembled better, things might have continued in the 63state of nature.

MIRABELL.

64I did as much as man could, with any reasonable con- 65science. I proceeded to the very last act of flattery with her, 66and was guilty of a song in her commendation. Nay, I got 67a friend to put her into a lampoon, and compliment her 68with the imputation of an affair with a young fellow, which 69I carried so far, that I told her the malicious town took 70notice that she was grown fat of a sudden; and when she lay 71in of a dropsy, persuaded her she was reported to be in 72labor. The devil’s in’t, if an old woman is to be flattered 73further, unless a man should endeavor downright personally 74to debauch her; and that my virtue forbade me. But for the 75discovery of that amour, I am indebted to your friend, or 76your wife’s friend, Mrs. Marwood.

FAINALL.

77What should provoke her to be your enemy, unless she has 78made you advances, which you have slighted? Women do 79not easily forgive omissions of that nature.

MIRABELL.

80She was always civil to me, till of late. I confess I am not 81one of those coxcombs who are apt to interpret a woman’s 82good manners to her prejudice, and think that she who does 83not refuse ’em everything can refuse ’em nothing.

FAINALL.

84You are a gallant man, Mirabell; and though you may 85have cruelty enough not to satisfy a lady’s longing, you have 86too much generosity not to be tender of her honor. Yet you 87speak with an indifference which seems to be affected, and 88confesses you are conscious of a negligence.

MIRABELL.

89You pursue the argument with a distrust that seems to be 90unaffected, and confesses you are conscious of a concern for 91which the lady is more indebted to you than your wife.

FAINALL.

92Fie, fie, friend! If you grow censorious, I must leave you. 93I’ll look upon the gamesters in the next room.

MIRABELL.

94Who are they?

FAINALL.

95Petulant and Witwoud. [To Betty.] Bring me some 96chocolate.

Exit.

MIRABELL.

97Betty, what says your clock?

BETTY.

98Turned of the last canonical hour, sir.

Exit.

MIRABELL.

99How pertinently the jade answers me! (Looking on his watch.) 100Ha? almost one o’clock! Oh, y’are come! Enter a Servant. 101Well, is the grand affair over? You have been something 102tedious.

SERVANT.

103Sir, there’s such coupling at Pancras, that they stand behind 104one another, as ’twere in a county dance. Ours was the 105last couple to lead up; and no hopes appearing of dispatch, 106besides the parson growing hoarse, we were afraid his lungs 107would have failed before it came to our turn; so we drove 108round to Duke’s Place, and there they were riveted in a 109trice.

MIRABELL.

110So, so, you are sure they are married.

SERVANT.

111Married and bedded, sir; I am witness.

MIRABELL.

112Have you the certificate?

SERVANT.

113Here it is, sir.

MIRABELL.

114Has the tailor brought Waitwell’s clothes home, and the 115new liveries?

SERVANT.

116Yes, sir.

MIRABELL.

117That’s well. Do you go home again, d’ye hear, and adjourn 118the consummation till father order; bid Waitwell shake his 119ears, and Dame Partlet rustle up her feathers, and meet me at 120one o’clock by Rosamond’s Pond, that I may see her before 121she returns to her lady; and as you tender your ears, be 122secret.

Exit Servant.

Re-enter Fainall [and Betty].

FAINALL.

123Joy of your success, Mirabell; you look pleased.

MIRABELL.

124Aye, I have been engaged in a matter of some sort of mirth, 125which is not yet ripe for discovery. I am glad this is not a 126cabal-night. I wonder, Fainall, that you who are married, 127and of consequence should be discreet, will suffer your wife 128to be of such a party.

FAINALL.

129Faith, I am not jealous. Besides, most who are engaged are 130women and relations; and for the men, they are of a kind 131too contemptible to give scandal.

MIRABELL.

132I am of another opinion. The greater the coxcomb, always 133the more scandal; for a woman who is not a fool can have 134but one reason for associating with a man that is.

FAINALL.

135Are you jealous as often as you see Witwoud entertained by 136Millamant?

MIRABELL.

137Of her understanding I am, if not of her person.

FAINALL.

138You do her wrong; for, to give her her due, she has wit.

MIRABELL.

139She has beauty enough to make any man think so, and com- 140plaisance enough not to contradict him who shall tell her so.

FAINALL.

141For a passionate lover, methinks you are a man somewhat 142too discerning in the failings of your mistress.

MIRABELL.

143And for a discerning man, somewhat too passionate a lover; 144for I like her with all her faults; nay, like her for her faults. 145Her follies are so natural, or so artful, that they become her; 146and those affectations which in another woman would be 147odious, serve but to make her more agreeable. I’ll tell thee, 148Fainall, she once used me with that insolence, that in 149revenge I took her to pieces; sifted her and separated her 150failings; I studied ’em, and got ’em by rote. The catalogue 151was so large that I was not without hopes one day or other 152to hate her heartily: to which end I so used myself to think 153of ’em that at length, contrary to my design and expectation, 154they gave me every hour less and less disturbance; till in a 155few days it became habitual to me to remember ’em without 156being displeased. They are now grown as familiar to me as 157my own frailties; and in all probability, in a little time 158longer I shall like ’em as well.

FAINALL.

159Marry her, marry her! Be half as well acquainted with 160her charms as you are with her defects, and my life on’t, you 161are your own man again.

MIRABELL.

162Say you so?

FAINALL.

163Aye, aye, I have experience: I have a wife, and so forth.

Enter Messenger.

MESSENGER.

164Is one Squire Witwoud here?

BETTY.

165Yes; what’s your business?

MESSENGER.

166I have a letter for him, from his brother Sir Wilfull, which 167I am charged to deliver into his own hands.

BETTY.

168He’s in the next room, friend; that way.

Exit Messenger

MIRABELL.

169What, is the chief of that noble family in town, Sir Wilfull 170Witwoud?

FAINALL.

171He is expected today. Do you know him?

MIRABELL.

172I have seen him. He promises to be an extraordinary 173person; I think you have the honor to be related to him.

FAINALL.

174Yes, he is half brother to this Witwoud by a former wife, 175who was sister to my Lady Wishfort, my wife’s mother. If 176you marry Millamant, you must call cousins too.

MIRABELL.

177I had rather be his relation than his acquaintance.

FAINALL.

178He comes to town in order to equip himself for travel.

MIRABELL.

179For travel! Why the man I mean is above forty.

FAINALL.

180No matter for that; ’tis for the honor of England that all 181Europe should know we have blockheads of all ages.

MIRABELL.

182I wonder there is not an act of parliament to save the 183credit of the nation, and prohibit the exportation of fools.

FAINALL.

184By no means; ’tis better as ’tis. ’tis better to trade with a 185little loss, than to be quite eaten up with being over- 186stocked.

MIRABELL.

187Pray, are the follies of this knight-errant and those of the 188squire his brother anything related?

FAINALL.

189Not at all; Witwoud grows by the knight, like a medlar 190grafted on a crab. One will melt in your mouth, and t’other 191set your teeth on edge; one is all pulp, and the other all core.

MIRABELL.

192So one will be rotten before he be ripe, and the other will be 193rotten without ever being ripe at all.

FAINALL.

194Sir Wilfull is an odd mixture of bashfulness and obstinacy. 195But when he’s drunk, he’s as loving as the monster in The 196Tempest, and much after the same manner. To give t’other 197his due, he has something of good nature and does not always 198want wit.

MIRABELL.

199Not always; but as often as his memory fails him, and his 200commonplace of comparison. He is a fool with a good 201memory and some few scraps of other folks’ wit. He is one 202whose conversation can never be approved, yet it is now 203and then to be endured. He has indeed one good quality, he 204is not exceptious; for he so passionately affects the reputation 205of understanding raillery, that he will construe an affront 206into a jest, and call downright rudeness and ill language 207satire and fire.

FAINALL.

208If you have a mind to finish his picture, you have an opportunity 209to do it full length. Behold the original!

Enter Witwoud.

WITWOUD.

210Afford me your compassion, my dears! Pity me, Fainall! 211Mirabell, pity me!

MIRABELL.

212I do from my soul.

FAINALL.

213Why, what’s the matter?

WITWOUD.

214No letters for me, Betty?

BETTY.

215Did not the messenger bring you one but now, sir?

WITWOUD.

216Aye, but no other?

BETTY.

217No, sir.

WITWOUD.

218That’s hard, that’s very hard. A messenger, a mule, a beast 219of burden! He has brought me a letter from the fool my 220brother, as heavy as a panegyric in a funeral sermon, or a 221copy of commendatory verses from one poet to another. 222And what’s worse, ’tis as sure a forerunner of the author as 223an epistle dedicatory.

MIRABELL.

224A fool, and your brother Witwoud!

WITWOUD.

225Aye, aye, my half brother. My half brother he is, no nearer 226upon honor.

MIRABELL.

227Then ’tis possible he may be but half a fool.

WITWOUD.

228Good, good, Mirabell, le drôle! Good, good; hang him, 229don’t let’s talk of him. Fainall, how does your lady? Gad, I 230say anything in the world to get this fellow out of my head. 231I beg pardon that I should ask a man of pleasure, and the 232town, a question at once so foreign and domestic. But I talk 233like an old maid at a marriage, I don’t know what I say; but 234she’s the best woman in the world.

FAINALL.

235’Tis well you don’t know what you say, or else your 236commendation would go near to make me either vain or 237jealous.

WITWOUD.

238No man in town lives well with a wife but Fainall. Your 239judgment, Mirabell.

MIRABELL.

240You had better step and ask his wife, if you would be 241credibly informed.

WITWOUD.

242Mirabell.

MIRABELL.

243Aye.

WITWOUD.

244My dear, I ask ten thousand pardons. Gad, I have forgot 245what I was going to say to you!

MIRABELL.

246I thank you heartily, heartily.

WITWOUD.

247No, but prithee excuse me: my memory is such a memory.

MIRABELL.

248Have a care of such apologies, Witwoud; for I never knew 249a fool but he affected to complain, either of the spleen or his 250memory.

FAINALL.

251What have you done with Petulant?

WITWOUD.

252He’s reckoning his money, my money it was. I have no 253luck today.

FAINALL.

254You may allow him to win of you at play, for you are sure 255to be too hard for him at repartee; since you monopolize the 256wit that is between you, the fortune must be his of course.

MIRABELL.

257I don’t find that Petulant confesses the superiority of wit 258to be your talent, Witwoud.

WITWOUD.

259Come, come, you are malicious now, and would breed 260debates. Petulant’s my friend, and a very honest fellow, and 261a very pretty fellow, and has a smattering—faith and troth, 262a pretty deal of an odd sort of a small wit: nay, I’ll do him 263justice. I’m his friend, I won’t wrong him neither. And if 264he had but any judgment in the world, he would not be 265altogether contemptible. Come, come, don’t detract from 266the merits of my friend.

FAINALL.

267You don’t take your friend to be over-nicely bred?

WITWOUD.

268No, no, hang him, the rogue has no manners at all, that 269I must own. No more breeding than a bum-baily, that I 270grant you. ’Tis pity, faith; the fellow has fire and life.

MIRABELL.

271What, courage?

WITWOUD.

272Hum, faith, I don’t know as to that, I can’t say as to that. 273Yes, faith, in a controversy he’ll contradict anybody.

MIRABELL.

274Though ’twere a man whom he feared, or a woman whom 275he loved.

WITWOUD.

276Well, well, he does not always think before he speaks; we 277have all our failing. You’re too hard upon him, you are, 278faith. Let me excuse him. I can defend most of his faults, 279except one or two. One he has, that’s the truth on’t; if he 280were my brother, I could not acquit him. That, indeed, I 281could wish were otherwise.

MIRABELL.

282Aye, marry, what’s that, Witwoud?

WITWOUD.

283Oh, pardon me! Expose the infirmities of my friend! No, my 284dear, excuse me there.

FAINALL.

285What, I warrant he’s unsincere, or ’tis some such trifle.

WITWOUD.

286No, no, what if he be? ’Tis no matter for that, his wit will 287excuse that. A wit should no more be sincere than a 288woman constant; one argues a decay of parts, as t’other of 289beauty.

MIRABELL.

290Maybe you think him too positive?

WITWOUD.

291No, no, his being positive is an incentive to argument, and 292keeps up conversation.

FAINALL.

293Too illiterate?

WITWOUD.

294That! that’s his happiness; his want of learning gives him 295the more opportunities to show his natural parts.

MIRABELL.

296He wants words?

WITWOUD.

297Aye, but I like him for that now; for his want of words 298gives me the pleasure very often to explain his meaning.

FAINALL.

299He’s imprudent?

WITWOUD.

300No, that’s not it.

MIRABELL.

301Vain?

WITWOUD.

302No.

MIRABELL.

303What! he speaks unseasonable truths sometimes, because he 304has not wit enough to invent an evasion?

WITWOUD.

305Truths! ha! ha! ha! No, no, since you will have it, I mean he 306never speaks truth at all, that’s all. He will lie like a chamber- 307maid, or a woman of quality’s porter. Now that is a fault.

Enter Coachman.

COACHMAN.

308Is Master Petulant here, mistress?

BETTY.

309Yes.

COACHMAN.

310Three gentlewomen in the coach would speak with him.

FAINALL.

311Oh brave Petulant! Three!

BETTY.

312I’ll tell him.

COACHMAN.

313You must bring two dishes of chocolate and a glass of 314cinnamon-water.

[Exeunt Betty and Coachman.]

WITWOUD.

315That should be for two fasting strumpets, and a bawd 316troubled with wind. Now you may know what the three 317are.

MIRABELL.

318You are very free with your friend’s acquaintance.

WITWOUD.

319Aye, aye, friendship without freedom is as dull as love 320without enjoyment, or wine without toasting; but to tell 321you a secret, these are trulls that he allows coach-hire, 322and something more, by the week, to call on him once a day 323at public places.

MIRABELL.

324How!

WITWOUD.

325You shall see he won’t go to ’em because there’s no more 326company here to take notice of him. Why, this is nothing to 327what he used to do: before he found out this way, I have 328know him call for himself.

FAINALL.

329Call for himself? What dost thou mean?

WITWOUD.

330Mean! Why, he would slip you out of this chocolate-house, 331just when you had been talking to him. As soon as your 332back was turned, whip, he was gone! Then trip to his lodging, 333clap on a hood and scarf, and mask, slap into a hackney- 334coach, and drive hither to the door again in a trice, where 335he would send in for himself; that I mean, call for himself, 336wait for himself; nay, and what’s more, not finding himself, 337sometimes leave a letter for himself.

MIRABELL.

338I confess this is something extraordinary. I believe he waits 339for himself now, he is so long a-coming. Oh! I ask his pardon.

Enter Petulant [and Betty].

BETTY.

340Sir, the coach stays.

PETULANT.

341Well, well; I come. ’Sbud, a man had as good be a professed 342midwife as a professed whoremaster, at this rate! To be 343knocked up and raised at all hours, and in all places! Pox 344on ’em, I won’t come! D’ye hear, tell ’em I won’t come. 345Let ’em snivel and cry their hearts out.

FAINALL.

346You are very cruel, Petulant.

PETULANT.

347All’s one, let it pass. I have a humor to be cruel.

MIRABELL.

348I hope they are not persons of condition that you use at this 349rate.

PETULANT.

350Condition! Condition’s a dried fig, if I am not in humor! 351By this hand, if they were your—a—a—your what-d’ye-call-’ems 352themselves, they must wait or rub off, if I want 353appetite.

MIRABELL.

354What-d’ye-call-’ems! What are they, Witwoud?

WITWOUD.

355Empresses, my dear; by your what-d’ye-call-’ems he means 356sultana queens.

PETULANT.

357Aye, Roxolanas.

MIRABELL.

358Cry you mercy.

FAINALL.

359Witwoud says they are—

PETULANT.

360What does he say th’are?

WITWOUD.

361I? Fine ladies, I say.

PETULANT.

362Pass on, Witwoud. Harkee, by this light his relations: two 363co-heiresses his cousins, and an old aunt, that loves caterwauling 364better than a conventicle.

WITWOUD.

365Ha! ha! ha! I had a mind to see how the rogue would 366come off. Ha! ha! ha! Gad, I can’t be angry with him, if he 367had said they were my mother and my sisters.

MIRABELL.

368No!

WITWOUD.

369No; the rogue’s wit and readiness of invention charm me. 370Dear Petulant!

BETTY.

371They are gone, sir, in great anger.

PETULANT.

372Enough, let ’em trundle. Anger helps complexion, saves 373paint.

FAINALL.

374This continence is all dissembled; this is in order to have 375something to brag of the next time he makes court to 376Millamant, and swear he has abandoned the whole sex 377for her sake.

MIRABELL.

378Have you not left off your imprudent pretensions there 379yet? I shall cut your throat some time or other, Petulant, 380about that business.

PETULANT.

381Aye, aye, let that pass. There are other throats to be cut.

MIRABELL.

382Meaning mine, sir?

PETULANT.

383Not I. I mean nobody; I know nothing. But there are 384uncles and nephews in the world, and they may be rivals. 385What then? All’s one for that.

MIRABELL.

386How! Harkee Petulant, come hither. Explain, or I shall 387call your interpreter.

PETULANT.

388Explain! I know nothing. Why, you have an uncle, have you 389not, lately come to town, and lodges by my Lady Wishfort’s?

MIRABELL.

390True.

PETULANT.

391Why, that’s enough. You and he are not friends; and if he 392should marry and have a child, you may be disinherited, 393ha?

MIRABELL.

394Where hast thou stumbled upon all this truth?

PETULANT.

395All’s one for that; why, then say I know something.

MIRABELL.

396Come, thou art an honest fellow, Petulant, and shalt make 397love to my mistress, thou sha’t, faith. What hast thou heard 398of my uncle?

PETULANT.

399I? Nothing I. If throats are to be cut, let swords clash! 400Snug’s the word; I shrug and am silent.

MIRABELL.

401Oh, raillery, raillery! Come, I know thou art in the 402women’s secrets. What, you’re a cabalist; I know you stayed 403at Millamant’s last night, after I went. Was there any 404mention made of my uncle or me? Tell me. If thou hadst 405but good nature equal to thy wit, Petulant, Tony Witwoud, 406who is now thy competitor in fame, would show as dim by 407thee as a dead whiting’s eye by a pearl of orient; he would 408no more be seen by thee than Mercury is by the sun. Come, 409I’m sure thou wo’t tell me.

PETULANT.

410If I do, will you grant me common sense then for the 411future?

MIRABELL.

412Faith, I’ll do what I can for thee; and I’ll pray that Heaven 413may grant it thee in the meantime.

PETULANT.

414Well, harkee.

[Mirabell and Petulant talk apart.]

FAINALL.

415Petulant and you both will find Mirabell as warm a rival as 416a lover.

WITWOUD.

417Pshaw! pshaw! That she laughs at Petulant is plain. And for 418my part, but that it is almost a fashion to admire her, I 419should—harkee, to tell you a secret, but let it go no further; 420between friends, I shall never break my heart for her.

FAINALL.

421How!

WITWOUD.

422She’s handsome; but she’s a sort of an uncertain woman.

FAINALL.

423I thought you had died for her.

WITWOUD.

424Umh—no—

FAINALL.

425She has wit.

WITWOUD.

426’Tis what she will hardly allow anybody else. Now, demme, 427I should hate that, if she were as handsome as Cleopatra. 428Mirabell is not so sure of her as he thinks for.

FAINALL.

429Why do you think so?

WITWOUD.

430We stayed pretty late there last night, and heard something 431of an uncle to Mirabell, who is lately come to town, and 432is between him and the best part of his estate. Mirabell and 433he are at some distance, as my Lady Wishfort has been told; 434and you know she hates Mirabell worse than a Quaker hates 435a parrot, or than a fishmonger hates a hard frost. Whether 436this uncle has seen Mrs. Millamant or not, I cannot say; 437but there were items of such a treaty being in embryo, and 438if it should come to life, poor Mirabell would be in some 439sort unfortunately fobbed, i’faith.

FAINALL.

440’Tis impossible Millamant should hearken to it.

WITWOUD.

441Faith, my dear, I can’t tell; she’s a woman and a kind of a 442humorist.

MIRABELL.

443And is this the sum of what you could collect last night?

PETULANT.

444The quintessence. Maybe Witwoud knows more; he stayed 445longer. Besides, they never mind him; they say anything 446before him.

MIRABELL.

447I thought you had been the greatest favorite.

PETULANT.

448Aye, tête à tête, but not in public, because I make remarks.

MIRABELL.

449You do?

PETULANT.

450Aye, aye, pox, I’m malicious, man! Now he’s soft, you 451know, they are not in awe of him. The fellow’s well-bred, 452he’s what you call a —what-d’ye-call-’em, a fine gentleman, 453but he’s silly withal.

MIRABELL.

454I thank you. I know as much as my curiosity requires. 455Fainall, are you for the Mall?

FAINALL.

456Aye, I’ll take a turn before dinner.

WITWOUD.

457Aye, we’ll all walk in the park; the ladies talked of being 458there.

MIRABELL.

459I thought you were obligated to watch for your brother Sir 460Wilfull’s arrival.

WITWOUD.

461No, no, he comes to his aunt’s, my Lady Wishfort. Pox on 462him! I shall be troubled with him too; what shall I do with 463the fool?

PETULANT.

464Beg him for his estate, that I may beg you afterwards; and so 465have but one trouble with you both.

WITWOUD.

466Oh, rare Petulant! Thou art as quick as a fire in a frosty 467morning; thou shalt to the Mall with us, and we’ll be 468very severe.

PETULANT.

469Enough, I’m in a humor to be severe.

MIRABELL.

470Are you? Pray then walk by yourselves. Let not us be 471accessory to your putting the ladies out of countenance with 472your senseless ribaldry, which you roar out aloud as often as 473they pass by you; and when you have made a handsome 474woman blush, then you think you have been severe.

PETULANT.

475What, what? Then let ’em show their innocence by not 476understanding what they hear, or else show their discretion 477by not hearing what they would not be thought to under- 478stand.

MIRABELL.

479But hast not thou then sense enough to know that thou 480ought’st to be most ashamed thyself, when thou hast put 481another out of countenance?

PETULANT.

482Not I, by this hand! I always take blushing either for a sign 483of guilt or ill-breeding.

MIRABELL.

484I confess you ought to think so. You are in the right, that 485you may plead the error of your judgment in defense of your 486practice. 487Where modesty’s ill manners, ’tis but fit 488That imprudence and malice pass for wit.

Exeunt.

[2]

St. James’s Park.

Enter Mrs. Fainall and Mrs. Marwood.

MRS. FAINALL.

1Aye, aye, dear Marwood, if we will be happy, we must 2find the means in ourselves, and among ourselves. Men 3are ever in extremes, either doting or averse. While they are 4lovers, if they have fire and sense, their jealousies are insupportable. 5And when they cease to love (we ought to 6think at least) they loathe; they look upon us with horror 7and distaste; they meet us like the ghosts of what we were, 8and as such, fly from us.

MRS. MARWOOD.

9True, ’tis an unhappy circumstance of life, that love should 10ever die before us; and that the man so often should outlive 11the lover. But say what you will, ’tis better to be left than 12never to have been loved. To pass our youth in dull indifference, 13to refuse the sweets of life because they once must leave 14us, is as preposterous as to wish to have been born old, 15because we one day must be old. For my part, my youth 16may wear and waste, but it shall never rust in my possession.

MRS. FAINALL.

17Then it seems you dissemble an aversion to mankind, only 18in compliance with my mother’s humor.

MRS. MARWOOD.

19Certainly. To be free, I have no taste of those insipid dry 20discourses with which our sex of force must entertain them- 21selves, apart from men. We may affect endearments to each 22other, profess eternal friendships, and seem to dote like 23lovers; but ’tis not in our natures long to persevere. Love will 24resume his empire in our breasts; and every heart, or soon or 25late, receive and readmit him as its lawful tyrant.

MRS. FAINALL.

26Bless me, how have I been deceived! Why you profess a 27libertine!

MRS. MARWOOD.

28You see my friendship by my freedom. Come, be as sincere, 29acknowledge that your sentiments agree with mine.

MRS. FAINALL.

30Never!

MRS. MARWOOD.

31You hate mankind?

MRS. FAINALL.

32Heartily, inveterately.

MRS. MARWOOD.

33Your husband?

MRS. FAINALL.

34Most transcendently; aye, though I say it, meritoriously.

MRS. MARWOOD.

35Give me your hand upon it.

MRS. FAINALL.

36There.

MRS. MARWOOD.

37I join with you; what I have said has been to try you.

MRS. FAINALL.

38Is it possible? Dost thou hate those vipers, men?

MRS. MARWOOD.

39I have done hating ’em, and am now come to despise ’em; 40the next thing I have to do, is eternally to forget ’em.

MRS. FAINALL.

41There spoke the spirit of an Amazon, a Penthesilea.

MRS. MARWOOD.

42And yet I am thinking sometimes to carry my aversion 43further.

MRS. FAINALL.

44How?

MRS. MARWOOD.

45Faith, by marrying; if I could but find one that loved me 46very well and would be thoroughly sensible of ill usage, I 47think I should do myself the violence of undergoing the 48ceremony.

MRS. FAINALL.

49You would not make him a cuckold?

MRS. MARWOOD.

50No, but I’d make him believe I did, and that’s as bad.

MRS. FAINALL.

51Why had not you as good do it?

MRS. MARWOOD.

52Oh, if he should ever discover it, he would then know the 53worst, and be out of his pain; but I would have him ever to 54continue upon the rack of fear and jealousy.

MRS. FAINALL.

55Ingenious mischief! Would thou wert married to Mirabell.

MRS. MARWOOD.

56Would I were!

MRS. FAINALL.

57You change color.

MRS. MARWOOD.

58Because I hate him.

MRS. FAINALL.

59So do I; but I can hear him named. But what reason have 60you to hate him in particular?

MRS. MARWOOD.

61I never loved him; he is, and always was, insufferably 62proud.

MRS. FAINALL.

63By the reason you give for your aversion, one would think it 64dissembled; for you have laid a fault to his charge of which his 65enemies must acquit him.

MRS. MARWOOD.

66Oh, then it seems you are one of his favorable enemies! 67Methinks you look a little pale, and now you flush again.

MRS. FAINALL.

68Do I? I think I am a little sick o’ the sudden.

MRS. MARWOOD.

69What ails you?

MRS. FAINALL.

70My husband. Don’t you see him? He turned short upon me 71unawares, and has almost overcome me.

Enter Fainall and Mirabell.

MRS. MARWOOD.

72Ha! ha! ha! He comes opportunely for you.

MRS. FAINALL.

73For you, for he has brought Mirabell with him.

FAINALL.

74My dear!

MRS. FAINALL.

75My soul!

FAINALL.

76You don’t look well today, child.

MRS. FAINALL.

77D’ye think so?

MIRABELL.

78He is the only man that does, madam.

MRS. FAINALL.

79The only man that would tell me so at least; and the only 80man from whom I could hear it without mortification.

FAINALL.

81Oh my dear, I am satisfied of your tenderness; I know you 82cannot resent anything from me, especially what is an effect 83of my concern.

MRS. FAINALL.

84Mr. Mirabell, my mother interrupted you in a pleasant 85relation last night; I would fain hear it out.

MIRABELL.

86The persons concerned in that affair have yet a tolerable 87reputation. I am afraid Mr. Fainall will be censorious.

MRS. FAINALL.

88He has a humor more prevailing than his curiosity, and 89will willingly dispense with the hearing of one scandalous 90story, to avoid giving an occasion to make another by 91being seen to walk with his wife. This way, Mr. Mirabell, 92and I dare promise you will oblige us both.

Exeunt Mrs.Fainall and Mirabell.

FAINALL.

93Excellent creature! Well, sure if I should live to be rid of 94my wife, I should be a miserable man.

MRS. MARWOOD.

95Aye!

FAINALL.

96For having only that one hope, the accomplishment of it, of 97consequence must put an end to all my hopes; and what a 98wretch is he who must survive his hopes! Nothing remains 99when that day comes, but to sit down and weep like Alexander, 100when he wanted other worlds to conquer.

MRS. MARWOOD.

101Will you not follow ’em?

FAINALL.

102Faith, I think not.

MRS. MARWOOD.

103Pray let us; I have a reason.

FAINALL.

104You are not jealous?

MRS. MARWOOD.

105Of whom?

FAINALL.

106Of Mirabell.

MRS. MARWOOD.

107If I am, is it inconsistent with my love to you that I am 108tender of your honor?

FAINALL.

109You would intimate then, as if there were a fellow-feeling 110between my wife and him.

MRS. MARWOOD.

111I think she does not hate him to that degree she would be 112thought.

FAINALL.

113But he, I fear, is too insensible.

MRS. MARWOOD.

114It may be you are deceived.

FAINALL.

115It may be so. I do now begin to apprehend it.

MRS. MARWOOD.

116What?

FAINALL.

117That I have been deceived, madam, and you are false.

MRS. MARWOOD.

118That I am false! What mean you?

FAINALL.

119To let you know I see through all your little arts. Come, 120you both love him; and both have equally dissembled your 121aversion. Your mutual jealousies of one another have made 122you clash till you have both struck fire. I have seen the warm 123confession reddening on your cheeks, and sparkling from 124your eyes.

MRS. MARWOOD.

125You do me wrong.

FAINALL.

126I do not. ’Twas for my ease to oversee and willfully neglect 127the gross advances made him by my wife; that by permitting 128her to be engaged, I might continue unsuspected in my 129pleasure, and take you oftener to my arms in full security. 130But could you think, because the nodding husband would 131not wake, that e’er the watchful lover slept?

MRS. MARWOOD.

132And wherewithal can you reproach me?

FAINALL.

133With infidelity, with loving of another, with love of Mirabell.

MRS. MARWOOD.

134’Tis false. I challenge you to show an instance that can 135confirm your groundless accusation. I hate him.

FAINALL.

136And wherefore do you hate him? He is insensible, and your 137resentment follows his neglect. An instance? The injuries 138you have done him are a proof, you interposing in his love. 139What cause had you to make discoveries of his pretended 140passion? To undeceive the credulous aunt, and be the 141officious obstacle of his match with Millamant?

MRS. MARWOOD.

142My obligations to my lady urged me; I had professed a 143friendship to her, and could not see her easy nature so 144abused by that dissembler.

FAINALL.

145What, was it conscience then? Professed a friendship! Oh, 146the pious friendships of the female sex!

MRS. MARWOOD.

147More tender, more sincere, and more enduring, than all 148the vain and empty vows of men, whether professing love 149to us, or mutual faith to one another.

FAINALL.

150Ha! ha! ha! you are my wife’s friend too.

MRS. MARWOOD.

151Shame and ingratitude! Do you reproach me? You, you 152upbraid me! Have I been false to her, though strict 153fidelity to you, and sacrificed my friendship to keep my love 154inviolate? And have you the baseness to charge me with the 155guilt, unmindful of the merit! To you it should be merito- 156rious, that I have been vicious; and do you reflect that 157guilt upon me, which should lie buried in your bosom?

FAINALL.

158You misinterpret my reproof. I meant but to remind you of 159the slight account you once could make of strictest ties, when 160set in comparison with your love to me.

MRS. MARWOOD.

161’Tis false; you urged it with deliberate malice! ’Twas spoke 162in scorn, and I never will forgive it.

MRS. MARWOOD.

163Your guilt, not your resentment, begets your rage. If yet you 164loved, you could forgive a jealousy; but you are stung to find 165you are discovered.

MRS. MARWOOD.

166It shall be all discovered. You too shall be discovered; be 167sure you shall. I can but de exposed. If I do it myself, I 168shall prevent your baseness.

FAINALL.

169Why, what will you do?

MRS. MARWOOD.

170Disclose it to your wife; own what has passed between us.

FAINALL.

171Frenzy!

MRS. MARWOOD.

172By all my wrongs I’ll do’t? I’ll publish to the world the 173injuries you have done me, both in my fame and fortune! 174With both I trusted you, you bankrupt in honor, as indigent 175of wealth.

FAINALL.

176Your fame I have preserved. Your fortune has been bestowed 177as the prodigality of your love would have it, in 178pleasures which we both have shared. Yet had not you been 179false, I had ere this repaid it. ’Tis true, had you permitted 180Mirabell with Millamant to have stolen their marriage, my 181lady had been incensed beyond all means of reconcilement; 182Millamant had forfeited the moiety of her fortune, which 183then would have descended to my wife. And wherefore did 184I marry, but to make lawful prize of a rich widow’s wealth, 185and squander it on love and you?

MRS. MARWOOD.

186Deceit and frivolous pretense!

FAINALL.

187Death, am I not married? What’s pretense? Am I not 188imprisoned, fettered? Have I not a wife? Nay a wife that 189was a window, a young widow, a handsome widow; and 190would be again a widow, but that I have a heart of proof, 191and something of a constitution to bustle through the ways of 192wedlock and this world. Will you yet be reconciled to truth 193and me?

MRS. MARWOOD.

194Impossible. Truth and you are inconsistent. I hate you, and 195shall for ever.

FAINALL.

196For loving you?

MRS. MARWOOD.

197I loathe the name of love after such usage; and next to the 198guilt with which you would asperse me, I scorn you most. 199Farewell!

FAINALL.

200Nay, we must not part thus.

MRS. MARWOOD.

201Let me go.

FAINALL.

202Come, I’m sorry.

MRS. MARWOOD.

203I care not, let me go. Break my hands, do! I’d leave ’em 204to get loose.

FAINALL.

205I would not hurt you for the world. Have I no other hold to 206keep you here?

MRS. MARWOOD.

207Well, I have deserved it all.

FAINALL.

208You know I love you.

MRS. MARWOOD.

209Poor dissembling! Oh, that —Well, it is not yet—

FAINALL.

210What? what is it not? What is it not yet? It is not yet too 211late—

MRS. MARWOOD.

212No, it is not yet too late; I have that comfort.

FAINALL.

213It is, to love another.

MRS. MARWOOD.

214But not to loathe, detest, abhor mankind, myself, and the 215whole treacherous world.

FAINALL.

216Nay, this is extravagance. Come, I ask your pardon. No 217tears. I was to blame; I could not love you and be easy in 218my doubts. Pray, forbear. I believe you. I’m convinced I’ve 219done you wrong; and any way, every way will make amends. 220I’ll hate my wife yet more, damn her! I’ll part with her, rob 221her of all she’s worth, and we’ll retire somewhere, anywhere, 222to another world. I’ll marry thee; be pacified. ’Sdeath, they 223come; hide your face, your tears. You have a mask; wear it 224a moment. This way, this way. Be persuaded.

Exeunt.

Enter Mirabell and Mrs. Fainall.

MRS. FAINALL.

225They are here yet.

MIRABELL.

226They are turning into the other walk.

MRS. FAINALL.

227While I only hated my husband, I could bear to see him; 228but since I have despised him, he’s too offensive.

MIRABELL.

229Oh, you should hate with prudence.

MRS. FAINALL.

230Yes, for I have loved with indiscretion.

MIRABELL.

231You should have just so much disgust for your husband as 232may be sufficient to make you relish your lover.

MRS. FAINALL.

233You have been the cause that I hate loved without bounds, 234and would you set limits to that aversion of which you have 235been the occasion? Why did you make me marry this man?

MIRABELL.

236Why do we daily commit disagreeable and dangerous 237actions? To save that idol, reputation. If the familiarities 238of our loves had produced that consequence of which you 239were apprehensive, where could you have fixed a father’s 240name with credit, but on a husband? I knew Fainall to be a 241man lavish of his morals, an interested and professing friend, 242a false and a designing lover; yet one whose wit and outward 243fair behavior have gained a reputation with the town enough 244to make that woman stand excused who has suffered herself 245to be won by his addresses. A better man ought not to have 246been sacrificed to the occasion; a worse had not answered to 247the purpose. When you are weary of him, you know your 248remedy.

MRS. FAINALL.

249I ought to stand in some degree of credit with you, 250Mirabell.

MIRABELL.

251In justice to you, I have made you privy to my whole design, 252and put it in your power to ruin or advance my fortune.

MRS. FAINALL.

253Whom have you instructed to represent your pretended 254uncle?

MIRABELL.

255Waitwell, my servant.

MRS. FAINALL.

256He is humble servant to Foible, my mother’s woman, 257and may win her to your interest.

MIRABELL.

258Care is taken for that. She is won and worn by this time. 259They were married this morning.

MRS. FAINALL.

260Who?

MIRABELL.

261Waitwell and Foible. I would not tempt my servant to 262betray me by trusting him too far. If your mother, in 263hopes to ruin me, should consent to marry my pretended 264uncle, he might, like Mosca in The Fox, stand upon terms; 265so I made him sure beforehand.

MRS. FAINALL.

266So, if my poor mother is caught in a contract, you will 267discover the imposture betimes, and release her by producing 268a certificate of her gallant’s former marriage.

MIRABELL.

269Yes, upon condition she consent to my marriage with her 270niece, and surrender the moiety of her fortune in her 271possession.

MRS. FAINALL.

272She talked last night of endeavoring at a match between 273Millamant and your uncle.

MIRABELL.

274That was by Foible’s direction, and my instruction, that 275she might seem to carry it more privately.

MRS. FAINALL.

276Well, I have an opinion of your success, for I believe my 277lady will do anything to get a husband; and when she has 278this, which you have provided for her, I suppose she will 279submit to anything to get rid of him.

MIRABELL.

280Yes, I think the good lady would marry anything that 281resembled a man, though ’twere no more than a butler 282could pinch out of a napkin.

MRS. FAINALL.

283Female frailty! We must all come to it, if we live to be old 284and feel the craving of a false appetite when the true is 285decayed.

MIRABELL.

286An old woman’s appetite is depraved like that of a girl. 287’Tis the green sickness of a second childhood; and like the 288faint offer of a latter spring, serves but to usher in the fall, 289and withers in an affected bloom.

MRS. FAINALL.

290Here’s your mistress.

Enter Mrs. Millamant, Witwoud, and Mincing.

MIRABELL.

291Here she comes, i’faith, full sail, with her fan spread and 292her streamers out, and a shoal of fools for tenders. Ha, 293no, I cry her mercy!

MRS. FAINALL.

294I see but one poor empty sculler; and he tows her woman 295after him.

MIRABELL.

296You seem to be unattended, madam. You used to have the 297beau monde throng after you, and a flock of gay fine perukes 298hovering round you.

WITWOUD.

299Like moths about a candle. I had like to have lost my 300comparison for want of breath.

MILLAMANT.

301Oh, I have denied myself airs today. I have walked as fast 302through the crowd—

WITWOUD.

303As a favorite in disgrace, and with as few followers.

MILLAMANT.

304Dear Mr. Witwoud, truce with your similitudes; for I am 305as sick of ’em—

WITWOUD.

306As a physician of a good air. I cannot help it, madam, 307though ’tis against myself.

MILLAMANT.

308Yet again! Mincing, stand between me and his wit.

WITWOUD.

309Do, Mrs. Mincing, like a screen before a great fire. I 310confess I do blaze today; I am too bright.

MRS. FAINALL.

311But, dear Millamant, why were you so long?

MILLAMANT.

312Long! Lord, have I not made violent haste? I have asked 313every living thing I met for you; I have inquired after 314you, as after a new fashion.

WITWOUD.

315Madam, truce with your similitudes. No, you met her 316husband, and did not ask him for her.

MIRABELL.

317By your leave, Witwoud, that were like inquiring after an 318old fashion, to ask a husband for his wife.

WITWOUD.

319Hum, a hit! a hit! a palpable hit! I confess it.

MRS. FAINALL.

320You were dressed before I came abroad.

MILLAMANT.

321Aye, that’s true. Oh, but then I had—Mincing, what had 322I? Why was I so long?

MINCING.

323O mem, your la’ship stayed to peruse a pecquet of letters.

MILLAMANT.

324Oh, aye, letters; I had letters. I am persecuted with letters. 325I hate letters. Nobody knows how to write letters; and yet 326one has ’em, one does not know why. They serve one to pin 327up one’s hair.

WITWOUD.

328Is that the way? Pray, madam, do you pin up your hair with 329all your letters? I find I must keep copies.

MILLAMANT.

330Only with those in verse, Mr. Witwoud. I never pin up my 331hair with prose. I fancy one’s hair would not curl if it were 332pinned up with prose. I think I tried once, Mincing.

MINCING.

333O mem, I shall never forget it.

MILLAMANT.

334Aye, poor Mincing tift and tift all the morning.

MINCING.

335’Till I had the cremp in my fingers, I’ll vow, mem. And 336all to no purpose. But when your la’ship pins it up with 337poetry, it sits so pleasant the next day as anything, and is so 338pure and so crips.

WITWOUD.

339Indeed, so crips?

MINCING.

340You’re such a critic, Mr. Witwoud.

MILLAMANT.

341Mirabell, did not you take exceptions last night? Oh, aye, 342and went away. Now I think on’t, I’m angry. No, now I 343think on’t, I’m pleased; for I believe I gave you some pain.

MIRABELL.

344Does that please you?

MILLAMANT.

345Infinitely; I love to give pain.

MIRABELL.

346You would affect a cruelty which is not in your nature; 347your true vanity is in the power of pleasing.

MILLAMANT.

348Oh, I ask your pardon for that. One’s cruelty is one’s power; 349and when one parts with one’s cruelty, one parts with 350one’s power; and when one has parted with that, I fancy 351one’s old and ugly.

MIRABELL.

352Aye, aye, suffer your cruelty to ruin the object of your 353power, to destroy your lover, and then how vain, how lost 354a thing you’ll be! Nay, ’tis true: you are no longer handsome 355when you’ve lost your lover; your beauty dies upon the 356instant. For beauty is the lover’s gift; ’tis he bestows your 357charms, your glass is all a cheat. The ugly and the old, whom 358the looking glass mortifies, yet after commendation can be 359flattered by it, and discover beauties in it; for that reflects 360our praises, rather than your face.

MILLAMANT.

361Oh, the vanity of these men! Fainall, d’ye hear him? If 362they did not commend us, we were not handsome! Now you 363must know they could not commend one, if one was not 364handsome. Beauty the lover’s gift! Lord, what is a lover, 365that it can give? Why, one makes lovers as fast as one pleases, 366and they live as long as one pleases, and they die as soon as 367one pleases; and then, if one pleases, one makes more.

WITWOUD.

368Very pretty. Why, you make no more of making of lovers, 369madam, than of making so many card-matches.

MILLAMANT.

370One no more owes one’s beauty to a lover than one’s wit to 371an echo. They can but reflect what we look and say; vain 372empty things if we are silent or unseen, and want a being.

MIRABELL.

373Yet to those two vain empty things you owe two [of] the 374greatest pleasures of your life.

MILLAMANT.

375How so?

MIRABELL.

376To your lover you owe the pleasure of hearing yourselves 377praised; and to an echo the pleasure of hearing yourselves 378talk.

WITWOUD.

379But I know a lady that loves talking so incessantly, she won’t 380give an echo fair play; she has that everlasting rotation of 381tongue, that an echo must wait till she dies, before it can 382catch her last words.

MILLAMANT.

383Oh, fiction! Fainall, let us leave these men.

MIRABELL.

384(Aside to Mrs. Fainall.) Draw off Witwoud.

MRS. FAINALL.

385Immediately. I have a word or two for Mr. Witwoud.

Exeunt Witwoud and Mrs. Fainall.

MIRABELL.

386I would beg a little private audience too. You had the 387tyranny to deny me last night, though you knew I came to 388impart a secret to you that concerned my love.

MILLAMANT.

389You saw I was engaged.

MIRABELL.

390Unkind! You had the leisure to entertain a herd of fools; 391things who visit you from their excessive idleness, bestowing 392on your easiness that time which is the incumbrance of 393their lives. How can you find delight in such society? It is 394impossible they should admire you; they are not capable. 395Or if they were, it should be to you as a mortification, for 396sure to please a fool is some degree of folly.

MILLAMANT.

397I please myself. Besides, sometimes to converse with fools 398is for my health.

MIRABELL.

399You health! Is there a worse disease than the conversation 400of fools?

MILLAMANT.

401Yes, the vapors; fools are physic for it, next to assafoetida.

MIRABELL.

402You are not in a course of fools?

MILLAMANT.

403Mirabell, if you persist in this offensive freedom, you’ll 404displeased me. I think I must resolve, after all, not to have 405you; we shan’t agree.

MIRABELL.

406Not in our physic, it may be.

MILLAMANT.

407And yet our distemper, in all likelihood, will be the same; 408for we shall be sick of one another. I shan’t endure to be 409reprimanded nor instructed; ’tis so dull to act always by 410advice, and so tedious to be told of one’s faults—I can’t bear 411it. Well, I won’t have you, Mirabell—I’m resolved—I think 412—you may go. —Ha! ha! ha! What would you give that you 413could help loving me?

MIRABELL.

414I would give something that you did not know I could not 415help it.

MILLAMANT.

416Come, don’t look grave then. Well, what do you say to me?

MIRABELL.

417I say that a man may as soon make a friend by his wit, or a 418fortune by his honesty, as win a woman with plain dealing 419and sincerity.

MILLAMANT.

420Sententious Mirabell! Prithee, don’t look with that violent 421and inflexible wise face, like Solomon at the dividing of the 422child in an old tapestry hanging.

MIRABELL.

423You are merry, madam, but I would persuade you for one 424moment to be serious.

MILLAMANT.

425What, with that face? No, if you keep your countenance, 426’tis impossible I should hold mine. Well, after all, there is 427something very moving in a love-sick face. Ha! ha! ha! 428—Well, I won’t laugh, don’t be peevish—Heighho! Now I’ll 429be melancholy, as melancholy as a watch-light. Well, Mirabell, 430if ever you will win me, woo me now. —Nay, if you are 431so tedious, fare you well. —I see they are walking away.

MIRABELL.

432Can you not find in the variety of your disposition one 433moment—

MILLAMANT.

434To hear you tell me Foible’s married, and your plot like 435to speed? —No.

MIRABELL.

436But how came you to know it?

MILLAMANT.

437Unless by the help of the devil, you can’t imagine; unless 438she should tell me herself. Which of the two it may have 439been, I will leave you to consider; and when you have done 440thinking of that, think of me.

Exit [with Mincing].

MIRABELL.

441I have something more—Gone! Think of you! To think of 442a whirlwind, though ’twere in a whirlwind, were a case of 443more steady contemplation; a very tranquility of mind and 444mansion. A fellow that lives in a windmill has not a more 445whimsical dwelling than the heart of a man that is lodged 446in a woman. There is no point of the compass to which 447they cannot turn, and by which they are not turned; and 448by one as well as another, for motion, not method, is their 449occupation. To know this, and yet continue to be in love, is 450to be made wise from the dictates of reason, and yet per- 451severe to play the fool by the force of instinct. —Oh, here 452come my pair of turtles! —What, billing so sweetly! Is not 453Valentine’s Day over with you yet? Enter Waitwell and Foible. 454Sirrah, Waitwell, why sure you think you were married for 455your own recreation, and not for my conveniency.

WAITWELL.

456Your pardon, sir. With submission, we have indeed been 457solacing in lawful delights; but still with an eye to business, 458sir. I have instructed her as well as I could. If she can 459take your directions as readily as my instructions, sir, your 460affairs are in a prosperous way.

MIRABELL.

461Give you joy, Mrs. Foible.

FOIBLE.

462O las, sir, I’m so ashamed! I’m afraid my lady has been in a 463thousand inquietudes for me. But I protest, sir, I made as 464much haste as I could.

WAITWELL.

465That she did indeed, sir. It was my fault that she did not 466make more.

MIRABELL.

467That I believe.

FOIBLE.

468But I told my lady as you instructed me, sir, that I had a 469prospect of seeing Sir Rowland, your uncle; and that I would 470put her ladyship’s picture in my pocket to show him, which 471I’ll be sure to say has made him so enamored of her beauty, 472that he burns with impatience to lie at her ladyship’s feet and 473worship the original.

MIRABELL.

474Excellent Foible! Matrimony has made you eloquent in 475love.

WAITWELL.

476I think she has profited, sir. I think so.

FOIBLE.

477You have seen Madam Millamant, sir?

MIRABELL.

478Yes.

FOIBLE.

479I told her, sir, because I did not know that you might find 480an opportunity; she had so much company last night.

MIRABELL.

481Your diligence will merit more. In the meantime—

Gives money.

FOIBLE.

482O dear sir, your humble servant.

WAITWELL.

483Spouse.

MIRABELL.

484Stand off, sir, not a penny! Go on and prosper, Foible; the 485lease shall be made good and the farm stocked, if we 486succeed.

FOIBLE.

487I don’t question your generosity, sir; and you need not 488doubt of success. If you have no more commands, sir, 489I’ll be gone; I’m sure my lady is at her toilet and can’t dress 490till I come. —Oh dear, I’m sure that ( looking out) was 491Mrs. Marwood that went by in a mask; if she has seen me 492with you I’m sure she’ll tell my lady. I’ll make haste 493home and prevent her. Your servant, sir. B’w’y, Waitwell.

Exit.

WAITWELL.

494Sir Rowland, if you please. The jade’s so pert upon her 495preferment she forgets herself.

MIRABELL.

496Come, sir, will you endeavor to forget yourself, and trans- 497form into Sir Rowland?

WAITWELL.

498Why, sir, it will be impossible I should remember myself. 499Married, knighted, and attended all in one day! ’Tis enough 500to make any man forget himself. The difficulty will be how to 501recover my acquaintance and familiarity with my former self, 502and fall from my transformation to a reformation into 503Waitwell. Nay, I shan’t be quite the same Waitwell neither; 504for now I remember me, I am married and can’t be my own 505man again.

ErrorMetrica

506

Aye, there’s the grief; that’s the sad change of life,

507

To lose my title, and yet keep my wife.

Exeunt.

[III]

A Room in Lady Wishfort’s House.

Lady Wishfort at her toilet, Peg waiting.

LADY WISHFORT.

1Merciful! no news of Foible yet?

PEG.

2No, madam.

LADY WISHFORT.

3I have no more patience. If I have not fretted myself till I 4am pale again, there’s no veracity in me! Fetch me the 5red; the red, do you hear, sweetheart? An arrant ash- 6color, as I’m a person! Look you how this wench stirs! Why 7dost thou not fetch me a little red? Didst thou not hear me, 8mopus?

PEG.

9The red ratafia does your ladyship mean, or the cherry 10brandy?

LADY WISHFORT.

11Ratafia, fool! No, fool! Not the ratafia, fool. Grant me 12patience! I mean the Spanish paper, idiot; complexion, 13darling. Paint, paint, paint, dost thou understand that, 14changeling, dangling thy hands like bobbins before thee? 15Why dost thou not stir, puppet? thou wooden thing upon 16wires!

PEG.

17Lord, madam, your ladyship is so impatient! I cannot 18come at the paint, madam; Mrs. Foible has locked it up 19and carried the key with her.

LADY WISHFORT.

20A pox take you both! Fetch me the cherry brandy then. (Exit Peg.) 21I’m as pale and as faint, I look like Mrs. 22Qualmsick, the curate’s wife, that’s always breeding. 23Wench, come, come, wench, what art thou doing? sipping? 24tasting? Save thee, dost thou not know the bottle?

Re-enter Peg with a bottle and china cup.

PEG.

25Madam, I was looking for a cup.

LADY WISHFORT.

26A cup, save thee! and what a cup hast thou brought! 27Dost thou take me for a fairy, to drink out of an acorn? 28Why didst thou not bring thy thimble? Hast thou ne’er a 29brass thimble clinking in thy pocket with a bit of nutmeg? 30I warrant thee. Come, fill, fill! So; again. (One knocks.) 31See who that is. Set down the bottle first. Here, here, under 32the table. What, wouldst thou go with the bottle in thy 33hand, like a tapster? As I’m a person, this wench has 34lived in an inn upon the road, before she came to me, 35like Maritornes the Asturian in Don Quixote! No Foible yet?

PEG.

36No, madam, Mrs. Marwood.

LADY WISHFORT.

37Oh, Marwood, let her come in. Come in, good Marwood.

Enter Mrs. Marwood.

MRS. MARWOOD.

38I’m surprised to find your ladyship in dishabillé at this 39time of day.

LADY WISHFORT.

40Foible’s a lost thing; has been abroad since morning, and 41never heard of since.

MRS. MARWOOD.

42I saw her but now, as I came masked through the park, in 43conference with Mirabell.

LADY WISHFORT.

44With Mirabell! You call my blood into my face with 45mentioning that traitor. She durst not have the confidence! 46I sent her to negotiate an affair in which, if I’m detected, I’m 47undone. If that wheedling villain has wrought upon Foible 48to detect me, I’m ruined. Oh my dear friend, I’m a wretch 49of wretches if I’m detected.

MRS. MARWOOD.

50O madam, you cannot suspect Mrs. Foible’s integrity.

LADY WISHFORT.

51Oh, he carries poison in his tongue that would corrupt 52integrity itself! If she has given him an opportunity, she has 53as good as put her integrity into his hands. Ah, dear 54Marwood, what’s integrity to an opportunity? Hark! I hear 55her! Go, you thing, and send her in. (Exit Peg.) 56Dear friend, retire into my closet, that I may examine her with 57more freedom. You’ll pardon me, dear friend; I can make 58bold with you. There are books over the chimney. Quarles 59and Prynne, and the Short View of the Stage, with Bunyan’s 60works, to entertain you. Exit Mrs. Marwood. Enter Foible. 61O Foible, where hast thou been? What hast thou been 62doing?

FOIBLE.

63Madam, I have seen the party.

LADY WISHFORT.

64But what hast thou done?

FOIBLE.

65Nay, ’tis your ladyship has done, and are to do; I have 66only promised. But a man so enamored, so transported! 67Well, here it is, all that is left; all that is not kissed away. 68Well, if worshiping of pictures be a sin, poor Sir Rowland, 69I say.

LADY WISHFORT.

70The miniature has been counted like. But hast thou not 71betrayed me, Foible? Hast thou not detected me to that 72faithless Mirabell? What hadst thou to do with him in the 73Park? Answer me, has he got nothing out of thee?

FOIBLE.

74[aside] So the devil has been beforehand with me. What shall I say? 75—Alas, madam, could I help it, if I met that confident 76thing? Was I in fault? If you had heard how he used me, 77and all upon your ladyship’s account, I’m sure you would 78not suspect my fidelity. Nay, if that had been the worst, I 79could have borne; but he had a fling at your ladyship too. 80And then I could not hold; but i’faith I gave him his own.

LADY WISHFORT.

81Me? What did the filthy fellow say?

FOIBLE.

82O madam! ’tis a shame to say what he said, with his taunts 83and his fleers, tossing up his nose. Humph! (says he), what, 84you are a hatching some plot (says he), you are so early 85abroad, or catering (say he), ferreting for some disbanded 86officer, I warrant. Half-pay is but thin subsistence (says he). 87Well, what pension does your lady propose? Let me see 88(says he), what, she must come down pretty deep now, she’s 89superannuated (says he) and—

LADY WISHFORT.

90Ods my life, I’ll have him, I’ll have him murdered. I’ll have 91him poisoned. Where does he eat? I’ll marry a drawer to 92have him poisoned in his wine. I’ll send for Robin from 93Locket’s immediately.

FOIBLE.

94Poison him? Poisoning’s too good for him. Starve him, 95madam, starve him; marry Sir Rowland and get him 96disinherited. Oh, you would bless yourself to hear what he 97said!

LADY WISHFORT.

98A villain! superannuated!

FOIBLE.

99Humph! (says he), I hear you are laying designs against 100me too (says he), and Mrs. Millamant is to marry my uncle 101(he does not suspect a word of your ladyship); but (says he) 102I’ll fit you for that. I warrant you (says he), I’ll hamper you 103for that (says he), you and your old frippery too (says he), 104I’ll handle you—

LADY WISHFORT.

105Audacious villain! Handle me! would he durst! Frippery? 106old frippery! Was there ever such a foulmouthed fellow? 107I’ll be married tomorrow; I’ll be contracted tonight.

FOIBLE.

108The sooner the better, madam.

LADY WISHFORT.

109Will Sir Rowland be here, say’st thou? When, Foible?

FOIBLE.

110Incontinently, madam. No new sheriff’s wife expects the 111return of her husband after knighthood with that impatience 112in which Sir Rowland burns for the dear hour of kissing 113your ladyship’s hands after dinner.

LADY WISHFORT.

114Frippery? superannuated frippery! I’ll frippery the villain; 115I’ll reduce him to frippery and rags! A tatterdemalion! I 116hope to see him hung with tatters, like a Long Lane penthouse 117or a gibbet thief. A slander-mouthed railer! I 118warrant the spendthrift prodigal’s in debt as much as the 119million lottery, or the whole court upon a birthday. I’ll 120spoil his credit with his tailor. Yes, he shall have my niece 121with her fortune, he shall!

FOIBLE.

122He! I hope to see him lodge in Ludgate first, and angle 123into Blackfairs for brass farthings with an old mitten.

LADY WISHFORT.

124Aye, dear Foible; thank thee for that, dear Foible. He has 125put me out of all patience. I shall never recompose my 126features to receive Sir Rowland with any economy of face. 127This wretch has fretted me that I am absolutely decayed. 128Look, Foible.

FOIBLE.

129Your ladyship has frowned a little too rashly, indeed, 130madam. There are some cracks discernible in the white 131varnish.

LADY WISHFORT.

132Let me see the glass. Cracks, say’st thou? Why I am 133arrantly flayed; I look like an old peeled wall. Thou must 134repair me, Foible, before Sir Rowland comes, or I shall 135never keep up to my picture.

FOIBLE.

136I warrant you, madam, a little art once made your picture 137like you; and now a little of the same art must make you 138like your picture. Your picture must sit for you, madam.

LADY WISHFORT.

139But art thou sure Sir Rowland will not fail to come? Or 140will he not fail when he does come? Will he be importunate, 141Foible, and push? For if he should not be importunate, I 142shall never break decorums. I shall die with confusion, if I 143am forced to advance. Oh no, I can never advance! I shall 144swoon if he should expect advances. No, I hope Sir Rowland 145is better bred than to put a lady to the necessity of 146breaking her forms. I won’t be too coy neither. I won’t give 147him despair; but a little disdain is not amiss, a little scorn is 148alluring.

FOIBLE.

149A little scorn becomes your ladyship.

LADY WISHFORT.

150Yes, but tenderness becomes me best, a sort of a dyingness. 151You see that picture has a sort of a—ha, Foible? a swimmingness 152in the eyes. Yes, I’ll look so. My niece affects it; 153but she wants features. Is Sir Rowland handsome? Let my 154toilet be removed. I’ll dress above. I’ll receive Sir Rowland 155here. Is he handsome? Don’t answer me. I won’t know; I’ll 156be surprised, I’ll be taken by surprise.

FOIBLE.

157By storm, madam. Sir Rowland’s a brisk man.

LADY WISHFORT.

158Is he! Oh, then he’ll importune, if he’s a brisk man. 159I shall save decorums if Sir Rowland importunes. I have 160a mortal terror at the apprehension of offending against 161decorums. Nothing but importunity can surmount decorums. 162Oh, I’m glad he’s a brisk man. Let my things be removed, 163good Foible.

Exit.

Enter Mrs. Fainall.

MRS. FAINALL.

164O Foible, I have been in a fright, lest I should come too 165late! That devil Marwood saw you in the Park with Mirabell, 166and I’m afraid will discover it to my lady.

FOIBLE.

167Discover what, madam?

MRS. FAINALL.

168Nay, nay, put not on that strange face. I am privy to the 169whole design, and know that Waitwell, to whom thou wert 170this morning married, is to personate Mirabell’s uncle, and 171as such, winning my lady, to involve her in those difficulties 172from which Mirabell only must release her, by his making 173his conditions to have my cousin and her fortune left to her 174own disposal.

FOIBLE.

175O dear madam, I beg your pardon. It was not my confidence 176in your ladyship that was deficient; but I thought the former 177good correspondence between your ladyship and Mr. Mirabell 178might have hindered his communicating this secret.

MRS. FAINALL.

179Dear Foible, forget that.

FOIBLE.

180O dear madam, Mr. Mirabell is such a sweet, winning 181gentleman, but your ladyship is the pattern of generosity. 182Sweet lady, to be so good! Mr. Mirabell cannot choose but 183be grateful. I find your ladyship has his heart still. Now, 184madam, I can safely tell your ladyship our success. Mrs. 185Marwood had told my lady; but I warrant I managed myself. 186I turned it all for the better. I told my lady that Mr. Mirabell 187railed at her. I laid horrid things to his charge, I’ll vow; 188and my lady is so incensed that she’ll be contracted to Sir 189Rowland tonight, she says. I warrant I worked her up, that 190he may have her for asking for, as they say of a Welsh 191maidenhead.

MRS. FAINALL.

192O rare Foible!

FOIBLE.

193Madam, I beg your ladyship to acquaint Mr. Mirabell of 194his success. I would be seen as little as possible to speak to 195him; besides, I believe Madame Marwood watches me. 196She has a month’s mind; but I know Mr. Mirabell can’t 197abide her. ( Enter Footman.) John, remove my lady’s 198toilet. Madam, your servant. My lady is so impatient, 199I fear she’ll come for me, if I stay.

MRS. FAINALL.

200I’ll go with you up the backstairs, lest I should meet her.

Exeunt.

Enter Mrs. Marwood.

MRS. MARWOOD.

201Indeed, Mrs. Engine, is it thus with you? Are you become a 202go-between of this importance? Yes, I shall watch you. Why 203this wench is the passe-partout, a very master key to everybody’s 204strongbox. My friend Fainall, have you carried it so 205swimmingly? I thought there was something in it; but it 206seems it’s over with you. Your loathing is not from a want of 207appetite then, but from a surfeit. Else you could never be so 208cool to fall from a principal to be an assistant; to procure 209for him! A pattern of generosity, that I confess. Well, Mr. 210Fainall, you have met with your match. O man, man! 211woman, woman! The devil’s an ass; if I were a painter, I 212would draw him like an idiot, a driveler with a bib and 213bells. Man should have his head and horns, and woman the 214rest of him. Poor simple fiend! Madam Marwood has a 215month’s mind, but he can’t abide her. ’Twere better for him 216you had not been his confessor in that affair, without you 217could have kept his counsel closer. I shall not prove 218another pattern of generosity and stalk for him, till he takes 219his stand to aim at a fortune. He has not obligated me to that, 220with those excesses of himself; and now I’ll have none of 221him. Here comes the good lady, panting ripe; with a heart 222full of hope, and a head full of care, like any chemist upon 223the day of projection.

Enter Lady Wishfort.

LADY WISHFORT.

224O dear Marwood, what shall I say, for this rude forgetfullness? 225But my dear friend is all goodness.

MRS. MARWOOD.

226No apologies, dear madam. I have been very well 227entertained.

LADY WISHFORT.

228As I’m a person, I am in a very chaos to think I should so 229forget myself; but I have such an olio of affairs, really I know 230not what to do. — ( Calls.) Foible! —I expect my nephew, 231Sir Wilfull, every moment too. —Why, Foible! —He 232means to travel for improvement.

MRS. MARWOOD.

233Methinks Sir Wilfull should rather think of marrying than 234traveling at his years. I hear he is turned of forty.

LADY WISHFORT.

235Oh, he’s in less danger of being spoiled by his travels. I 236am against my nephew’s marrying too young. It will be 237time enough when he comes back and has acquired discretion 238to choose for himself.

MRS. MARWOOD.

239Methinks Mrs. Millamant and he would make a very 240fit match. He may travel afterwards. ’Tis a thing very 241usual with young gentlemen.

LADY WISHFORT.

242I promise you I have thought on’t; and since ’tis your 243judgment, I’ll think on’t again. I assure you I will; I value 244your judgment extremely. On my word, I’ll propose it. Enter Foible. 245Come, come, Foible, I had forgot my nephew will be here 246before dinner. I must make haste.

FOIBLE.

247Mr. Witwoud and Mr. Petulant are come to dine with your 248ladyship.

LADY WISHFORT.

249Oh dear, I can’t appear till I’m dressed. Dear Marwood, 250shall I be free with you again, and beg you to entertain ’em? 251I’ll make all imaginable haste. Dear friend, excuse me.

Exeunt Lady Wishfort and Foible.

Enter Mrs. Millamant and Mincing.

MILLAMANT.

252Sure never anything was so unbred as that odious man! 253Marwood, your servant.

MRS. MARWOOD.

254You have a color, what’s the matter?

MILLAMANT.

255That horrid fellow, Petulant, has provoked me into a flame. 256I have broke my fan. Mincing, lend me yours; is not all 257the powder out of my hair?

MRS. MARWOOD.

258No, what has he done?

MILLAMANT.

259Nay, he has done nothing; he has only talked. Nay, he has 260said nothing neither; but he has contradicted everything 261that has been said. For my part, I thought Witwoud and he 262would have quarreled.

MINCING.

263I vow, mem, I thought once they would have fit.

MILLAMANT.

264Well, ’tis a lamentable thing, I’ll swear, that one has not the 265liberty of choosing one’s acquaintance as one does one’s 266clothes.

MRS. MARWOOD.

267If we had the liberty, we should be as weary of one set of 268acquaintance, though never so good, as we are of one suit, 269though never so fine. A fool and a doily stuff would now 270and then find days of grace, and be worn for variety.

MILLAMANT.

271I could consent to wear ’em, if they would wear alike; but 272fools never wear out—they are such drap-de-Berry things 273without one could give ’em to one’s chambermaid after a day 274or two!

MRS. MARWOOD.

275’Twere better so indeed. Or what think you of the playhouse? 276A fine, gay, glossy fool should be given there, like a 277new masking habit, after the masquerade is over, and we 278have done with the disguise. For a fool’s visit is always a 279disguise, and never admitted by a woman of wit, but to blind 280her affair with a lover of sense. If you would but appear 281barefaced now, and own Mirabell, you might as easily put 282off Petulant and Witwoud as your hood and scarf. And 283indeed ’tis time, for the town has found it; the secret is 284grown too big for the pretense. ’Tis like Mrs. Primly’s great 285belly; she may lace it down before, but it burnishes on her 286hips. Indeed, Millamant, you can no more conceal it than 287my Lady Strammel can her face, that goodly face, which, 288in defiance of her Rhenish wine tea, will not be comprehended 289in a mask.

MILLAMANT.

290I’ll take my death, Marwood, you are more censorious 291than a decayed beauty, or a discarded toast. Mincing, tell 292the men they may come up. My aunt is not dressing [here]. 293—Their folly is less provoking than your malice. (Exit Mincing.) 294The town has found it! What has it found? That 295Mirabell loves me is no more a secret than it is a secret that 296you discovered it to my aunt, or than the reason why you 297discovered it is a secret.

MRS. MARWOOD.

298You are nettled.

MILLAMANT.

299You’re mistaken. Ridiculous!

MRS. MARWOOD.

300Indeed, my dear, you’ll tear another fan, if you don’t 301mitigate those violent airs.

MILLAMANT.

302O silly! Ha! ha! ha! I could laugh immoderately. Poor 303Mirabell! His constancy to me has quite destroyed his 304complaisance for all the world beside. I swear, I never enjoined 305it him to be so coy. If I had the vanity to think he 306would obey me, I would command him to show more 307gallantry. ’Tis hardly well-bred to be so particular on one 308hand, and so let him follow his own way. Ha! ha! ha! 309Pardon me, dear creature, I must laugh, ha! ha! ha!— 310though I grant you ’tis a little barbarous, ha! ha! ha!

MRS. MARWOOD.

311What pity ’tis, so much fine raillery, and delivered with so 312significant gesture, should be so unhappily directed to 313miscarry.

MILLAMANT.

314Ha? Dear creature, I ask your pardon. I swear I did not 315mind you.

MRS. MARWOOD.

316Mr. Mirabell and you both may think it a thing impossible, 317when I shall tell him by telling you—

MILLAMANT.

318Oh dear, what? For it is the same thing, if I hear it, ha! 319ha! ha!

MRS. MARWOOD.

320That I detest him, hate him, madam.

MILLAMANT.

321O madam, why so do I—and yet the creature loves me, 322ha! ha! ha! How can one forbear laughing to think of it! 323I am a sybil if I am not amazed to think what he can see in 324me. I’ll take my death, I think you are handsomer—and 325within a year or two as young. If you could but stay for 326me, I should overtake you—but that cannot be. —Well, 327that thought makes me melancholy. —Now I’ll be sad.

MRS. MARWOOD.

328Your merry note may be changed sooner than you think.

MILLAMANT.

329D’ye say so? Then I’m resolved to have a song to keep up 330my spirits.

Enter Mincing.

MINCING.

331The gentlemen stay but to comb, madam, and will wait 332on you.

MILLAMANT.

333Desire Mrs. ——, that is in the next room, to sing the 334song I would have learned yesterday. You shall hear it, 335madam, not that there’s any great matter in it, but ’tis agreeable 336to my humor.

Song

Set by Mr. John Eccles and sung by Mrs. Hodgson.

ErrorMetrica

337

Love’s but the frailty of the mind,

338

When ’tis not with ambition joined;

339

A sickly flame, which, if not fed, expires,

340

And feeding, wastes in self-consuming fires.

341

’Tis not to wound a wanton boy

342

Or amorous youth, that gives the joy;

343

But ’tis the glory to have pierced a swain,

344

For whom inferior beauties sighed in vain.

III

345

Then I alone the conquest prize,

346

When I insult a rival’s eyes;

347

If there’s delight in love, ’tis when I see

348

That heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.

Enter Petulant and Witwoud.

MILLAMANT.

349Is your animosity composed, gentlemen?

WITWOUD.

350Raillery, raillery, madam; we have no animosity. We hit off 351a little wit now and then, but no animosity. The falling-out 352of wits is like the falling-out of lovers; we agree in the main, 353like treble and bass. Ha, Petulant?

PETULANT.

354Aye, in the main, but when I have a humor to contradict.

WITWOUD.

355Aye, when he has a humor to contradict, then I contradict 356too. What, I know my cue. Then we contradict one 357another like two battledores; for contradictions beget one 358another like Jews.

PETULANT.

359If he says black’s black, if I have a humor to say ’tis blue, 360let that pass; all’s one for that. If I have a humor to 361prove it, it must be granted.

WITWOUD.

362Not positively must, but it may, it may.

PETULANT.

363Yes, it positively must, upon proof positive.

WITWOUD.

364Aye, upon proof positive it must; but upon proof presumptive 365it only may. That’s a logical distinction now, 366madam,.

MRS. MARWOOD.

367I perceive your debates are of importance and very 368learnedly handled.

PETULANT.

369Importance is one thing, and learning’s another; but a 370debate’s debate, that I assert.

WITWOUD.

371Petulant’s an enemy to learning; he relies altogether on 372his parts.

PETULANT.

373No, I’m no enemy to learning; it hurts not me.

MRS. MARWOOD.

374That’s a sign indeed it’s no enemy to you.

PETULANT.

375No, no, it’s no enemy to anybody but them that have it.

MILLAMANT.

376Well, an illiterate man’s my aversion. I wonder at the impudence 377of any illiterate man to offer to make love.

WITWOUD.

378That I confess I wonder at too.

MILLAMANT.

379Ah! to marry an ignorant that can hardly read or write!

PETULANT.

380Why should a man be ever the further from being married, 381though he can’t read, any more than he is from being 382hanged? The ordinary’s paid for setting the psalm, and 383the parish priest for reading the ceremony. And for the 384rest which is to follow in both cases, a man may do it 385without book; so all’s one for that.

MILLAMANT.

386D’ye hear the creature? Lord, here’s company, I’ll be gone.

Exeunt Millamant and Mincing.

WITWOUD.

387In the name of Bartlemew and his fair, what have we here?

MRS. MARWOOD.

388’Tis your brother, I fancy. Don’t you know him?

WITWOUD.

389Not I. Yes, I think it is he. I’ve almost forgot him; I 390have not seen him since the Revolution.

Enter Sir Wilfull Witwoud in a country riding habit, and a Servant to Lady Wishfort.

SERVANT.

391Sir, my lady’s dressing. Here’s company; if you please to 392walk in, in the meantime.

SIR WILFULL.

393Dressing! What, it’s but morning here, I warrant, with you 394in London; we should count it towards afternoon in our 395parts, down in Shropshire. Why then, belike my aunt han’t 396dined yet, ha, friend?

SERVANT.

397Your aunt, sir?

SIR WILFULL.

398My aunt, sir! Yes, my aunt, sir, and your lady, sir; your 399lady is my aunt, sir. Why, what, dost thou not know me, 400friend? Why then, send somebody here that does. How long 401hast thou lived with thy lady, fellow, ha?

SERVANT.

402A week, sir; longer than anybody in the house, except my 403lady’s woman.

SIR WILFULL.

404Why then, belike thou dost not know thy lady, if thou seest 405her, ha, friend?

SERVANT.

406Why truly, sir, I cannot safely swear to her face in a morning, 407before she is dressed. ’Tis like I may give a shrewd guess at 408her by this time.

SIR WILFULL.

409Well, prithee try what thou canst do; if thou canst not guess, 410inquire her out, dost hear, fellow? And tell her, her 411nephew, Sir Wilfull Witwoud, is in the house.

SERVANT.

412I shall, sir.

SIR WILFULL.

413Hold ye, hear me, friend; a word with you in your ear. 414Prithee who are these gallants?

SERVANT.

415Really, sir, I can’t tell; here come so many here, ’tis hard 416to know ’em all.

Exit Servant.

SIR WILFULL.

417Oons, this fellow knows less than a starling; I don’t think a’ 418knows his own name.

MRS. MARWOOD.

419Mr. Witwoud, your brother is not behindhand in forgetfulness; 420I fancy he has forgot you too.

WITWOUD.

421I hope so. The devil take him that remembers first, I say.

SIR WILFULL.

422Save you, gentlemen and lady!

MRS. MARWOOD.

423For shame, Mr. Witwoud; why won’t you speak to him? 424And you, sir.

WITWOUD.

425Petulant, speak.

PETULANT.

426And you, sir.

SIR WILFULL.

427No offense, I hope.

Salutes Marwood.

MRS. MARWOOD.

428No sure, sir.

WITWOUD.

429This is a vile dog, I see that already. No offense! Ha! ha! 430ha! to him; to him, Petulant, smoke him.

PETULANT.

431It seems as if you had come a journey, sir; hem, hem.

Surveying him round.

SIR WILFULL.

432Very likely, sir, that it may seem so.

PETULANT.

433No offense, I hope, sir.

WITWOUD.

434Smoke the boots, the boots; Petulant, the boots, ha! ha! ha!

SIR WILFULL.

435May be not, sir; thereafter as ’tis meant, sir.

PETULANT.

436Sir, I presume upon the information of your boots.

SIR WILFULL.

437Why, ’tis like you may, sir. If you are not satisfied with the 438information of my boots, sir, if you will step to the stable, 439you may inquire further of my horse, sir.

PETULANT.

440Your horse, sir! Your horse is an ass, sir!

SIR WILFULL.

441Do you speak by way of offense, sir?

MRS. MARWOOD.

442The gentleman’s merry, that’s all, sir. —[ Aside.] ’Slife, 443 we shall have a quarrel betwixt an horse and an ass, before 444 they find one another out. — [ Aloud.] You must not take 445anything amiss from your friends, sir. You are among your 446friends here, though it may be you don’t know it. If I am 447not mistaken, you are Sir Wilfull Witwoud.

SIR WILFULL.

448Right, lady; I am Sir Wilfull Witwoud, so I write myself; 449no offense to anybody, I hope; and nephew to the Lady 450Wishfort of this mansion.

MRS. MARWOOD.

451Don’t you know this gentleman, sir?

SIR WILFULL.

452Hum! What, sure ’tis not—yea by’r Lady, but ’tis. ’Sheart, 453I know not whether ’tis or no. Yea, but ’tis, by the Wrekin. 454Brother Anthony! What, Tony, i’faith! What, dost thou 455not know me? By’r Lady, nor I thee, thou art so be-cravated 456and be-periwigged. ’Sheart, why dost not speak? Art thou 457o’erjoyed?

WITWOUD.

458Odso, brother, is it you? Your servant, brother.

SIR WILFULL.

459Your servant! Why, yours, sir. Your servant again, ’sheart, 460and your friend and servant to that, and a—(puff) and a 461flapdragon for your service, sir! and a hare’s foot, and a 462hare’s scut for your service, sir, an you be so cold and so 463courtly!

WITWOUD.

464No offense, I hope, brother.

SIR WILFULL.

465’Sheart, sir, but there is, and much offense! A pox, is this 466your Inns o’ Court breeding, not to know your friends and 467your relations, your elders and your betters.

WITWOUD.

468Why, brother Wilfull of Salop, you may be as short as a 469Shrewsbury cake, if you please. But I tell you, ’tis not 470modish to know relations in town. You think you’re in the 471country, where great lubberly brothers slabber and kiss one 472another when they meet, like a call of serjeants. ’Tis not the 473fashion here; ’tis not indeed, dear brother.

SIR WILFULL.

474The fashion’s a fool; and you’re a fop, dear brother. 475’Sheart, I’ve suspected this. By’r Lady, I conjectured you 476were a fop, since you began to change the style of your letters 477and write in a scrap of paper, gilt round the edges, no 478broader than a subpoena. I might expect this when you 479left off Honored Brother, and hoping you are in good health, 480and so forth—to begin with a Rat me, knight, I’m so sick 481of a last night’s debauch—ods heart, and then tell a familiar 482tale of a cock and a bull, and a whore and a bottle, and 483so conclude. You could write news before you were 484out of your time, when you lived with honest Pumple Nose, 485the attorney of Furnival’s Inn; you could entreat to be 486remembered then to your friends round the Wrekin. We 487could have gazettes then, and Dawks’s Letter, and the 488Weekly Bill, till of late days.

PETULANT.

489’Slife, Witwoud, were you ever an attorney’s clerk? of the 490family of the Furnivals? Ha! ha! ha!

WITWOUD.

491Aye, aye, but that was for a while, not long, not long. 492Pshaw! I was not in my own power then; an orphan, 493and this fellow was my guardian. Aye, aye, I was glad to 494consent to that man to come to London. He had the 495disposal of me then. If I had not agreed to that, I might have 496been bound prentice to a felt-maker in Shrewsbury; this 497fellow would have bound me to a maker of felts.

SIR WILFULL.

498’Sheart, and better than to be bound to a maker of fops, 499where, I suppose, you have served your time; and now you 500may set up for yourself.

MRS. MARWOOD.

501You intend to travel, sir, as I’m informed.

SIR WILFULL.

502Belike I may, madam. I may chance to sail upon the salt 503seas, if my mind hold.

PETULANT.

504And the wind serve.

SIR WILFULL.

505Serve or not serve, I shan’t ask license of you, sir; nor the 506weathercock your companion. I direct my discourse to the 507lady, sir. ’Tis like my aunt may have told you, madam. 508Yes, I have settled my concerns, I may say now, and am 509minded to see foreign parts. If an how that the peace 510holds, whereby, that is, taxes abate.

MRS. MARWOOD.

511I thought you had designed for France at all adventures.

SIR WILFULL.

512I can’t tell that; ’tis like I may, and ’tis like I may not. I 513am somewhat dainty in making a resolution, because when 514I make it, I keep it. I don’t stand shill I, shall I, then; if I 515say’t, I’ll do’t. But I have thoughts to tarry a small matter 516in town, to learn somewhat of your lingo first, before I 517cross the seas. I’d gladly have a spice of your French, as 518they say, whereby to hold discourse in foreign countries.

MRS. MARWOOD.

519Here is an academy in town for that use.

SIR WILFULL.

520There is? ’Tis like there may.

MRS. MARWOOD.

521No doubt you will return very much improved.

WITWOUD.

522Yes, refined, like a Dutch skipper from a whale-fishing.

Enter Lady Wishfort and Fainall.

LADY WISHFORT.

523Nephew, you are welcome.

SIR WILFULL.

524Aunt, your servant.

FAINALL.

525Sir Wilfull, your most faithful servant.

SIR WILFULL.

526Cousin Fainall, give me your hand.

LADY WISHFORT.

527Cousin Witwoud, your servant; Mr. Petulant, your servant. 528Nephew, you are welcome again. Will you drink anything 529after your journey, nephew, before you eat? Dinner’s 530almost ready.

SIR WILFULL.

531I’m very well, I thank you, aunt; however, I thank you 532for your courteous offer. ’Sheart, I was afraid you would 533have been in the fashion too, and have remembered to 534have forgot your relations. Here’s your cousin Tony; 535belike I mayn’t call him brother for fear of offense.

LADY WISHFORT.

536Oh, he’s a rallier, nephew. My cousin’s a wit; and your great 537wits always rally their best friends to choose. When you have 538been abroad, nephew, you’ll understand raillery better.

Fainall and Mrs. Marwood talk apart.

SIR WILFULL.

539Why then, let him hold his tongue in the meantime, and 540rail when that day comes.

Enter Mincing.

MINCING.

541Mem, I come to acquaint your la’ship that dinner is 542impatient.

SIR WILFULL.

543Impatient? Why then, belike it won’t stay till I pull off my 544boots. Sweetheart, can you help me to a pair of slippers? 545My man’s with his horses, I warrant.

LADY WISHFORT.

546Fie, fie nephew, you would not pull off your boots here. Go 547down into the hall; dinner shall stay for you. My nephew’s 548a little unbred; you’ll pardon him, madam. Gentlemen, 549will you walk? Marwood?

MRS. MARWOOD.

550I’ll follow you, madam, before Sir Wilfull is ready.

Exeunt all but Mrs. Marwood and Fainall.

FAINALL.

551Why then, Foible’s a bawd, an arrant, rank, match- 552making bawd. And I, it seems, am a husband, a rank 553husband; and my wife a very arrant, rank wife, all in the 554way of the world. ’Sdeath, to be an anticipated cuckold, a 555cuckold in embryo! Sure I was born with budding antlers, 556like a young satyr, or a citizen’s child. ’Sdeath, to be outwitted, 557to be out-jilted, out-matrimonied! If I had kept 558my speed like a stag, ’twere somewhat; but to crawl after, 559with my horns like a snail, and outstripped by my wife, ’tis 560scurvy wedlock.

MRS. MARWOOD.

561Then shake it off. You have often wished for an opportunity 562to part; and now you have it. But first prevent their plot; 563the half of Millamant’s fortune is too considerable to be 564parted with, to a foe, to Mirabell.

FAINALL.

565Damn him! that had been mine, had you not made that 566fond discovery. That had been forfeited, had they been 567married. My wife had added luster to my horns by that 568increase of fortune; I could have worn ’em tipt with gold, 569though my forehead had been furnished like a deputy 570lieutenant’s hall.

MRS. MARWOOD.

571They may prove a cap of maintenance to you still, if you 572can away with your wife. And she’s no worse than when 573you had her. I dare swear she had given up her game 574before she was married.

FAINALL.

575Hum! That may be. She might throw up her cards; but 576I’ll be hanged if she did not put Pam in her pocket.

MRS. MARWOOD.

577You married her to keep you; and if you can contrive to 578have her keep you better than you expected, why should 579you not keep her longer than you intended?

FAINALL.

580The means, the means.

MRS. MARWOOD.

581Discover to my lady your wife’s conduct; threaten to part 582with her. My lady loves her, and will come to any com- 583position to save her reputation. Take the opportunity of 584breaking it, just upon the discovery of this imposture. My 585lady will be enraged beyond bounds, and sacrifice niece and 586fortune and all, at that conjuncture. And let me alone to 587keep her warm; if she should flag in her part, I will not fail 588to prompt her.

FAINALL.

589Faith, this has an appearance.

MRS. MARWOOD.

590I’m sorry I hinted to my lady to endeavor a match between 591Millamant and Sir Wilfull; that may be an obstacle.

FAINALL.

592Oh, for that matter leave me to manage him; I’ll disable 593him for that. He will drink like a Dane; after dinner, I’ll set 594his hand in.

MRS. MARWOOD.

595Well, how do you stand affected towards your lady?

FAINALL.

596Why, faith, I’m thinking of it. Let me see. I am married 597already, so that’s over. My wife has played the jade with 598me; well, that’s over too. I never loved her, or if I had, why 599that would have been over too by this time. Jealous of her 600I cannot be, for I am certain; so there’s an end of jealousy. 601Weary of her I am, and shall be. No, there’s no end of 602that; no, no, that were too much to hope. Thus far concerning 603my repose; now for my reputation. As to my own, 604I married not for it; so, that’s out of the question. And as to 605my part in my wife’s, why she had parted with hers before; 606so brining none to me, she can take none from me. ’Tis 607against all rule of play that I should lose to one who has not 608wherewithal to stake.

MRS. MARWOOD.

609Besides, you forget, marriage is honorable.

FAINALL.

610Hum! Faith, and that’s well thought on. Marriage is 611honorable, as you say; and if so, wherefore should cuckoldom 612be a discredit, being derived from so honorable a root?

MRS. MARWOOD.

613Nay, I know not; if the root be honorable, why not the 614branches?

FAINALL.

615So, so; why this point’s clear. Well, how do we proceed?

MRS. MARWOOD.

616I will contrive a letter which shall be delivered to my lady 617at the time when that rascal who is to act Sir Rowland is 618with her. It shall come as from an unknown hand, for the 619less I appear to know of the truth, the better I can play the 620incendiary. Besides, I would not have Foible provoked if I 621could help it, because you know she knows some passages. 622Nay, I expect all will come out; but let the mine be sprung 623first, and then I care not if I’m discovered.

FAINALL.

624If the worst come to the worst, I’ll turn my wife to grass. 625I have already a deed of settlement of the best part of her 626estate, which I have wheedled out of her; and that you 627shall partake at least.

MRS. MARWOOD.

628I hope you are convinced that I hate Mirabell; now you’ll 629be no more jealous.

FAINALL.

630Jealous! No, by this kiss. Let husbands be jealous; but let 631the lover still believe. Or if he doubt, let it be only to endear 632his pleasure, and prepare the joy that follows, when he 633proves his mistress true. But let husbands’ doubts convert to 634endless jealousy; or if they have belief, let it corrupt to superstition 635and blind credulity. I am single, and will herd no 636more with ’em. True, I wear the badge, but I’ll disown the 637order. And since I take my leave of ’em, I care not if I leave 638’em a common motto to their common crest:

ErrorMetrica

639

All husbands must or pain or shame endure;

640

The wise too jealous are, fools too secure.

Exeunt.

[IV]

Scene continues.

Enter Lady Wishfort and Foible.

LADY WISHFORT.

1Is Sir Rowland coming, say’st thou, Foible? and are things 2in order?

FOIBLE.

3Yes, madam, I have put wax lights in the sconces, and 4placed the footmen in a row in the hall, in their best liveries, 5with the coachman and postilion to fill up the equipage.

LADY WISHFORT.

6Have you pulvilled the coachman and postilion that they 7may not stink of the stable when Sir Rowland comes by?

FOIBLE.

8Yes, madam.

LADY WISHFORT.

9And are the dancers and the music ready, that he may be 10entertained in all points with correspondence to his passion?

FOIBLE.

11All is ready, madam.

LADY WISHFORT.

12And—well—and how do I look, Foible?

FOIBLE.

13Most killing well, madam.

LADY WISHFORT.

14Well, and how shall I receive him? In what figure shall I 15give his heart the first impression? There is a great deal in the 16first impression. Shall I sit? —No, I won’t sit—I’ll walk— 17aye, I’ll walk from the door upon his entrance; and then 18turn full upon him. —No, that will be too sudden. I’ll lie— 19aye, I’ll lie down—I’ll receive him in my little dressing- 20room; there’s a couch—yes, yes, I’ll give the first impression 21on a couch. —I won’t lie neither, but loll and lean upon 22one elbow, with one foot a little dangling off, jogging in a 23thoughtful way—yes—and then as soon as he appears, start, 24aye, start and be surprised, and rise to meet him in a pretty 25disorder—yes—oh, nothing is more alluring than a levee 26from a couch in some confusion. —It shows the foot to 27advantage, and furnished with blushes, and recomposing 28airs beyond comparison. Hark! There’s a coach.

FOIBLE.

29’Tis he, madam.

LADY WISHFORT.

30Oh dear, has my nephew made his addresses to Millamant? 31I ordered him.

FOIBLE.

32Sir Wilfull is set in to drinking, madam, in the parlor.

LADY WISHFORT.

33Ods my life, I’ll send him to her. Call her down, Foible; 34bring her hither. I’ll send him as I go. When they are 35together, then come to me, Foible, that I may not be too long 36alone with Sir Rowland.

Exit.

Enter Mrs. Millamant and Mrs. Fainall.

FOIBLE.

37Madam, I stayed here, to tell your ladyship that Mr. 38Mirabell has waited this half hour for an opportunity to 39talk with you, though my lady’s orders were to leave you and 40Sir Wilfull together. Shall I tell Mr. Mirabell that you are 41at leisure?

MILLAMANT.

42No—what would the dear man have? I am thoughtful and 43would amuse myself—bid him come another time.

ErrorMetrica

There never yet was woman made,

Nor shall, but to be cursed.

( Repeating and walking about.)

46That’s hard!

MRS. FAINALL.

47You are very fond of Sir John Suckling today, Millamant, 48and the poets.

MILLAMANT.

49He? Aye, and filthy verses; so I am.

FOIBLE.

50Sir Wilfull is coming, madam. Shall I send Mr. Mirabell 51away?

MILLAMANT.

52Aye, if you please, Foible, send him away—or send him 53hither—just as you will, dear Foible. —I think I’ll see him— 54shall I? Aye, let the wretch come.

[ Exit Foible.]

ErrorMetrica

Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train.

( Repeating.)

56Dear Fainall, entertain Sir Wilfull. Thou hast philosophy to 57undergo a fool; thou art married and hast patience. I would 58confer with my own thoughts.

MRS. FAINALL.

59I am obliged to you, that you would make me your proxy 60in this affair; but I have business of my own. Enter Sir Wilfull. 61O Sir Wilfull, you are come at the critical instant. There’s 62your mistress up to the ears in love and contemplation; 63pursue your point, now or never.

SIR WILFULL.

64Yes; my aunt would have it so. I would gladly have been 65encouraged with a bottle or two, because I’m somewhat 66wary at first, before I am acquainted. (This while Millamants walks about repeating to herself.) 67But I hope, after a 68time, I shall break my mind; that is, upon further acquaintance. 69So for the present, cousin, I’ll take my leave. If so be 70you’ll be so kind to make my excuse, I’ll return to my 71company.

MRS. FAINALL.

72Oh, fie, Sir Wilfull! What, you must not be daunted.

SIR WILFULL.

73Daunted! No, that’s not it. It is not so much for that; for if 74so be that I set on’t, I’ll do’t. But only for the present; ’tis 75sufficient till further acquaintance, that’s all. Your servant.

MRS. FAINALL.

76Nay, I’ll swear you shall never lose so favorable an opportunity, 77if I can help it. I’ll leave you together and lock the 78door.

Exit.

SIR WILFULL.

79Nay, nay, cousin. I have forgot my gloves. What d’ye do? 80’Sheart, ’a has locked the door indeed, I think. Nay, Cousin 81Fainall, open the door! Pshaw, what a vixen trick is this? 82Nay, now ’a has seen me too. Cousin, I made bold to pass 83through as it were. I think this door’s enchanted!

MILLAMANT.

(repeating)

I prithee spare me, gentle boy,

Press me no more for that slight toy—

SIR WILFULL.

86Anan? Cousin, your servant.

MILLAMANT.

(repeating)

That foolish trifle of a heart—

88Sir Wilfull!

SIR WILFULL.

89Yes. Your servant. No offense, I hope, cousin.

MILLAMANT.

(repeating)

I swear it will not do its part,

Though thou dost thine, employ’st thy power and art.

92Natural, easy Suckling!

SIR WILFULL.

93Anan? Suckling? No such suckling neither, cousin, nor 94stripling; I thank heaven, I’m no minor.

MILLAMANT.

95Ah, rustic! ruder than Gothic!

SIR WILFULL.

96Well, well, I shall understand your lingo one of these days, 97cousin; in the meanwhile, I must answer in plain English.

MILLAMANT.

98Have you any business with me, Sir Wilfull?

SIR WILFULL.

99Not at present, cousin. Yes, I made bold to see, to come and 100know if that how you were disposed to fetch a walk this 101evening, if so be that I might not be troublesome, I would 102have fought a walk with you.

MILLAMANT.

103A walk! What then?

SIR WILFULL.

104Nay, nothing. Only for the walk’s sake, that’s all.

MILLAMANT.

105I nauseate walking; ’tis a country diversion. I loathe the 106country and everything that relates to it.

SIR WILFULL.

107Indeed! Ha! Look ye, look ye, you do? Nay, ’tis like you 108may. Here are choice of pastimes here in town, as plays and 109the like; that must be confessed indeed.

MILLAMANT.

110Ah, l’étourdie! I hate the town too.

SIR WILFULL.

111Dear heart, that’s much. Ha! that you should hate ’em both! 112Ha! ’tis like you may; there are some can’t relish the town, 113and others can’t away with the country. ’Tis like you may 114be one of those, cousin.

MILLAMANT.

115Ha! ha! ha! Yes, ’tis like I may. You have nothing further 116to say to me?

SIR WILFULL.

117Not at present, cousin. ’Tis like when I have an opportunity 118to be more private, I may break my mind in some measure. 119I conjecture you partly guess. —However, that’s as time shall 120try; but spare to speak and spare to speed, as they say.

MILLAMANT.

121If it is of no great importance, Sir Wilfull, you will oblige 122me to leave me; I have just now a little business—

SIR WILFULL.

123Enough, enough, cousin, yes, yes, all a case; when you’re 124disposed, when you’re disposed. Now’s as well as another 125time; and another time as well as now. All’s one for that. 126Yes, yes, if your concerns call you, there’s no haste; it will 127keep cold, as they say. Cousin, your servant. I think this 128door’s locked.

MILLAMANT.

129You may go this way, sir.

SIR WILFULL.

130Your servant; then with your leave I’ll return to my 131company.

Exit.

MILLAMANT.

132Aye, aye; ha! ha! ha!

ErrorMetrica

133

Like Phoebus sung the no less amorous boy.

Enter Mirabell.

MIRABELL.

134

Like Daphne she, as lovely and as coy.

135Do you lock yourself up from me, to make my search more 136curious? Or is this pretty artifice contrived, to signify that 137here the chase must end and my pursuit be crowned, for 138you can fly no further?

MILLAMANT.

139Vanity! No. I’ll fly and be followed to the last moment. 140Though I am upon the very verge of matrimony, I expect 141you should solicit me as much as if I were wavering at the 142grate of a monastery, with one foot over the threshold. I’ll 143be solicited to the very last, nay and afterwards.

MIRABELL.

144What, after the last?

MILLAMANT.

145Oh, I should think I was poor and had nothing to bestow, 146if I were reduced to an inglorious ease and freed from the 147agreeable fatigues of solicitation.

MIRABELL.

148But do not you know that when favors are conferred upon 149instant and tedious solicitation, that they diminish in their 150value, and that both the giver loses the grace, and the 151receiver lessens his pleasure?

MILLAMANT.

152It may be in things of common application; but never sure in 153love. Oh, I hate a lover that can dare to think he draws a 154moment’s air independent on the bounty of his mistress. 155There is not so impudent a thing in nature as the saucy look 156of an assured man, confident of success. The pedantic 157arrogance of a very husband has not so pragmatical an air. 158Ah! I’ll never marry, unless I am first made sure of my will 159and pleasure.

MIRABELL.

160Would you have ’em both before marriage? Or will you be 161contented with the first now, and stay for the other till after 162grace?

MILLAMANT.

163Ah! don’t be impertinent. —My dear liberty, shall I leave 164thee? My faithful solitude, my darling contemplation, must 165I bid you then adieu? Ay-h adieu—my morning thoughts, 166agreeable wakings, indolent slumbers, all ye douceurs, ye 167sommeils du matin, adieu? —I can’t do’t, ’tis more than 168impossible. Positively, Mirabell, I’ll lie abed in a morning as 169long as I please.

MIRABELL.

170Then I’ll get up in a morning as early as I please.

MILLAMANT.

171Ah! Idle creature, get up when you will. —And d’ye hear, 172I won’t be called names after I’m married; positively I won’t 173be called names.

MIRABELL.

174Names!

MILLAMANT.

175Aye, as wife, spouse, my dear, joy jewel, love, sweetheart, 176and the rest of that nauseous cant, in which men and their 177wives are so fulsomely familiar—I shall never bear that. 178—Good Mirabell, don’t let us be familiar or fond, nor kiss 179before folks, like my Lady Fadler and Sir Francis; nor go 180to Hyde Park together the first Sunday in a new chariot, to 181provoke eyes and whispers; and then never to be seen there 182together again; as if we were proud of one another the 183first week, and ashamed of one another ever after. Let us 184never visit together, nor go to a play together. But let us be 185very strange and well-bred; let us be as strange as if we had 186been married a great while, and as well-bred as if we were 187not married at all.

MIRABELL.

188Have you any more condition to offer? Hitherto your 189demands are pretty reasonable.

MILLAMANT.

190Trifles! —As liberty to pay and receive visits to and from 191whom I please; to write and receive letters, without interrogatories 192or wry faces on your part; to wear what I please; 193and choose conversation with regard only to my own taste; 194to have no obligation upon me to converse with wits that 195I don’t like, because they are your acquaintance; or to be 196intimate with fools, because they may be your relations. 197Come to dinner when I please; dine in my dressing room 198when I’m out of humor, without giving a reason. To have my 199closet inviolate; to be sole empress of my tea table, which 200you must never presume to approach without first asking 201leave. And lastly, wherever I am, you shall always knock at 202the door before you come in. These articles subscribed, if 203I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees 204dwindle into a wife.

MIRABELL.

205Your bill of fare is something advanced in this latter 206account. Well, have I liberty to offer conditions—that 207when you are dwindled into a wife, I may not be beyond 208measure enlarged into a husband?

MILLAMANT.

209You have free leave. Propose your utmost; speak and spare 210not.

MIRABELL.

211I thank you. Imprimis then, I covenant that your acquain- 212tance be general; that you admit no sworn confidante, or 213intimate of your own sex; no she-friend to screen her affairs 214under your countenance, and tempt you to make trial of a 215mutual secrecy. No decoy-duck to wheedle you a fop, 216scrambling to the play in a mask; then bring you home in 217a pretended fright, when you think you shall be found out, 218and rail at me for missing the play, and disappointing the 219frolic which you had, to pick me up and prove my constancy.

MILLAMANT.

220Detestable imprimis! I go to the play in a mask!

MIRABELL.

221Item, I article that you continue to like your own face as 222long as I shall; and while it passes current with me, that 223you endeavor not to new-coin it. To which end, together 224with all vizards for the day, I prohibit all masks for the 225night, made of oiled skins and I know now what—hog’s 226bones, hare’s gall, pig-water, and the marrow of a roasted 227cat. In short, I forbid all commerce with the gentlewoman in 228What-d’ye-call-it Court. Item, I shut my doors against all 229bawds with baskets, and pennyworths of muslin, china, 230fans, atlases, etc. —Item, when you shall be breeding—

MILLAMANT.

231Ah! name it not.

MIRABELL.

232Which may be presumed, with a blessing on our 233endeavors—

MILLAMANT.

234Odious endeavors!

MIRABELL.

235I denounce against all strait-lacing, squeezing for a shape, 236till you mold my boy’s head like a sugar loaf, and instead 237of a man-child, make me the father to a crooked billet. 238Lastly, to the dominion of the tea table I submit, but with 239proviso, that you exceed not in your province, but restrain 240yourself to native and simple tea-table drinks, as tea, 241chocolate, and coffee. As likewise to genuine and authorized 242tea-table talk—such as mending of fashions, spoiling reputations, 243railing at absent friend, and so forth; but that on 244no account you encroach upon the men’s prerogative, and 245presume to drink healths, or toast fellows; for prevention of 246which, I banish all foreign forces, all auxiliaries to the tea 247table, as orange brandy, all aniseed, cinnamon, citron, and 248Barbadoes waters, together with ratafia and the most 249noble spirit of clary. But for cowslip-wine, poppy-water, and 250all dormitives, those I allow. These provisos admitted, in 251other things I may prove a tractable and complying 252husband.

MILLAMANT.

253Oh, horrid provisos! filthy strong waters! I toast fellows, 254odious men! I hate your odious provisos.

MIRABELL.

255Then we’re agreed. Shall I kiss your hand upon the 256contract? And here comes one to be a witness to the sealing 257of the deed.

Enter Mrs. Fainall.

MILLAMANT.

258Fainall, what shall I do? Shall I have him? I think I 259must have him.

MRS. FAINALL.

260Aye, aye, take him, take him, what should you do?

MILLAMANT.

261Well then—I’ll take my death I’m in a horrid fright— 262Fainall, I shall never say it—well—I think—I’ll endure you.

MRS. FAINALL.

263Fie, fie! have him, have him, and tell him so in plain terms; 264for I am sure you have a mind to him.

MILLAMANT.

265Are you? I think I have—and the horrid man looks as if he 266thought so too. —Well, you ridiculous thing you, I’ll have 267you—I won’t be kissed, nor I won’t be thanked—here, kiss 268my hand though. —So, hold your tongue now, and don’t 269say a word.

MRS. FAINALL.

270Mirabell, there’s a necessity for your obedience; you have 271neither time to talk nor stay. My mother is coming; and in 272my conscience, if she should see you, would fall into fits and 273maybe not recover, time enough to return to Sir Rowland, 274who, as Foible tells me, is in a fair way to succeed. Therefore 275spare your ecstasies for another occasion, and slip down the 276backstairs, where Foible waits to consult you.

MILLAMANT.

277Aye, go, go. In the meantime I suppose you have said 278something to please me.

MIRABELL.

279I am all obedience.

Exit.

MRS. FAINALL.

280Yonder Sir Wilfull’s drunk, and so noisy that my mother 281has been forced to leave Sir Rowland to appease him; but 282he answers her only with singing and drinking. What they 283have done by this time I know not; but Petulant and he 284were quarreling as I came by.

MILLAMANT.

285Well, if Mirabell should not make a good husband, I am a 286lost thing—for I find I love him violently.

MRS. FAINALL.

287So it seems, when you mind not what’s said to you. If you 288doubt him, you had best take up with Sir Wilfull.

MILLAMANT.

289How can you name that superannuated lubber? foh!

Enter Witwoud from drinking.

MRS. FAINALL.

290So, is the fray made up, that you have left ’em?

WITWOUD.

291Left ’em? I could stay no longer. I have laughed like ten 292christenings; I am tipsy with laughing. If I had stayed any 293longer I should have burst; I must have been let out and 294pieced in the sides like an unsized camlet. Yes, yes, the fray 295is composed; my lady came in like a nolle prosequi and stopped 296their proceeding.

MILLAMANT.

297What was the dispute?

WITWOUD.

298That’s the jest; there was no dispute. They could neither of 299’em speak for rage, and so fell a-sputtering at one another 300like two roasting apples. Enter Petulant drunk. 301Now Petulant, all’s over, all’s well. Gad, my head begins 302to whim it about. Why dost thou not speak? Thou art both 303as drunk and as mute as a fish.

PETULANT.

304Look you, Mrs. Millamant, if you can love me, dear nymph, 305say it, and that’s the conclusion. Pass on, or pass off; that’s 306all.

WITWOUD.

307Thou hast uttered volumes, folios, in less than decimo sexto, 308my dear Lacedemonian. Sirrah Petulant, thou art an epito- 309mizer of words.

PETULANT.

310Witwoud, you are an annihilator of sense.

WITWOUD.

311Thou art a retailer of phrases and dost deal in remnants 312of remnants, like a maker of pincushions; thou art in truth 313(metaphorically speaking) a speaker of shorthand.

PETULANT.

314Thou art (without a figure) just one half of an ass, and 315Baldwin yonder, thy half brother, is the rest. A gemini of 316asses split would make just four of you.

WITWOUD.

317Thou dost bite, my dear mustard seed; kiss me for that.

PETULANT.

318Stand off! I’ll kiss no more males. I have kissed your twin 319yonder in humor of reconciliation, till he 320 (hiccup) rises 321upon my stomach like a radish.

MILLAMANT.

322Eh! filthy creature! What was the quarrel?

PETULANT.

323There was no quarrel; there might have been a quarrel.

WITWOUD.

324If there had been words enow between ’em to have ex- 325pressed provocation, they had gone together by the ears 326like a pair of castanets.

PETULANT.

327You were the quarrel.

MILLAMANT.

328Me!

PETULANT.

329If I have a humor to quarrel, I can make less matters 330conclude premises. If you are not handsome, what then, 331if I have a humor to prove it? If I shall have my reward, 332say so; if not, fight for your face the next time yourself. 333I’ll go sleep.

WITWOUD.

334Do, wrap thyself up like a wood louse, and dream revenge; 335and hear me, if thou canst learn to write by tomorrow 336morning, pen me a challenge. I’ll carry it for thee.

PETULANT.

337Carry your mistress’s monkey a spider! Go flea dogs, and 338read romances! I’ll go to bed to my maid.

Exit.

MRS. FAINALL.

339He’s horridly drunk. How came you all in this pickle?

WITWOUD.

340A plot! a plot! to get rid of the knight. Your husband’s 341advice; but he sneaked off.

Enter Lady Wishfort, and Sir Wilfull drunk.

LADY WISHFORT.

342Out upon’t, out upon’t! At years of discretion, and comport 343yourself at this rantipole rate!

SIR WILFULL.

344No offense, aunt.

LADY WISHFORT.

345Offense? As I’m a person, I’m ashamed of you—foh! how 346you stink of wine! D’ye think my niece will ever endure 347such a borachio! you’re an absolute borachio.

SIR WILFULL.

348Borachio!

LADY WISHFORT.

349At a time when you should commence an amour and put 350your best foot foremost—

SIR WILFULL.

351’Sheart, an you grutch me your liquor, make a bill. Give me 352more drink, and take my purse.

Sings.

ErrorMetrica

353

Prithee fill me the glass,

354

Till it laugh in my face,

355

With ale that is potent and mellow;

356

He that whines for a lass

357

Is an ignorant ass,

358

For a bumper has not its fellow.

359But if you would have me marry my cousin, say the word, 360and I’ll do’t. Wilfull will do’t; that’s the word. Wilfull will 361do’t; that’s my crest. My motto I have forgot.

LADY WISHFORT.

362My nephew’s a little overtaken, cousin, but ’tis with 363drinking your health. O’ my word you are obligated to him.

SIR WILFULL.

364In vino veritas, aunt. If I drunk your health today, cousin, 365I am a borachio. But if you have a mind to be married, say 366the word, and send for the piper; Wilfull will do’t. If not, 367dust it away, and let’s have t’other round. —Tony! —Ods- 368heart, where’s Tony? —Tony’s an honest fellow; but he 369spits after a bumper, and that’s a fault.

Sings.

ErrorMetrica

370

We’ll drink, and we’ll never ha’ done, boys,

371

Put the glass then around with the sun, boys;

372

Let Apollo’s example invite us;

373

For he’s drunk every night,

374

And that makes him so bright,

375

That he’s able next morning to light us.

376The sun’s a good pimple, an honest soaker; he has a cellar 377at your Antipodes. If I travel, aunt, I touch at your Anti- 378podes; your Antipodes are a good, rascally sort of topsy- 379turvy fellows. If I had a bumper, I’d stand upon my head 380and drink a health to ’em. A match, or no match, cousin with 381the hard name? Aunt, Wilfull will do’t. If she has her 382maidenhead, let her look to’t; if she has not, let her keep 383her own counsel in the meantime, and cry out at the nine 384months’ end.

MILLAMANT.

385Your pardon, madam, I can stay no longer. Sir Wilfull 386grows very powerful. Egh! how he smells! I shall be overcome 387if I stay. Come, cousin.

Exeunt Millamant and Mrs. Fainall.

LADY WISHFORT.

388Smells! he would poison a tallow chandler and his family. 389Beastly creature, I know not what to do with him! Travel, 390quotha! aye, travel, travel, get thee gone, get thee but far 391enough, to the Saracens, or the Tartars, or the Turks, for 392thou art not fit to live in a Christian commonwealth, thou 393beastly pagan!

SIR WILFULL.

394Turks, no; no Turks, aunt; your Turks are infidels, and 395believe not in the grape. Your Mahometan, your Mussulman, 396is a dry stinkard. No offense, aunt. My map says that 397your Turk is not so honest a man as your Christian. I 398cannot find by the map that your Mufti is orthodox; whereby 399it is a plain case that orthodox is a hard word, aunt, 400and (hiccup) Greek for claret.

Sing.

ErrorMetrica

401

To drink is a Christian diversion,

402

Unknown to the Turk and the Persian:

403

Let Mahometan fools

404

Live by heathenish rules,

405

And be damned over tea cups and coffee!

406

But let British lads sing,

407

Crown a health to the king,

408

And a fig for your sultan and sophy!

409Ah, Tony!

Enter Foible, and whispers Lady Wishfort.

LADY WISHFORT.

410[aside to Foible] Sir Rowland impatient? Good lack! what shall I do with this 411 beastly tumbril? [Aloud.] Go lie down and sleep, you 412sot! or, as I’m a person, I’ll have you bastinadoed with 413broomsticks. Call up the wenches.

Exit Foible.

SIR WILFULL.

414Ahey! Wenches, where are the wenches?

LADY WISHFORT.

415Dear Cousin Witwoud, get him away, and you will bind 416me to you inviolably. I have an affair of moment that 417invades me with some precipitation. You will oblige me to 418all futurity.

WITWOUD.

419Come, knight. Pox on him, I don’t know what to say to 420him. Will you go to a cock-match?

SIR WILFULL.

421With a wench, Tony? Is she a shake-bag, Sirrah? Let me 422bite your cheek for that.

WITWOUD.

423Horrible! He has a breath like a bagpipe! Aye, aye, come, 424will you march, my Salopian?

SIR WILFULL.

425Lead on, little Tony; I’ll follow thee, my Anthony, my 426Tantony. Sirrah, thou shalt be my Tantony, and I’ll be thy 427pig. 428And a fig for your sultan and sophy.

Exit singing with Witwoud.

LADY WISHFORT.

429This will never do. It will never make a match—at least 430before he has been abroad. Enter Waitwell, disguised as for Sir Rowland. 431Dear Sir Rowland, I am confounded with confusion at the 432retrospection of my own rudeness! I have more pardons to 433ask than the Pope distributes in the Year of Jubilee. But I 434hope, where there is likely to be so near an alliance, we 435may unbend the severity of decorum and dispense with a 436little ceremony.

WAITWELL.

437My impatience, madam, is the effect of my transport; 438and till I have the possession of your adorable person, I am 439tantalized on a rack, and do but hang, madam, on the 440tenter of expectation.

LADY WISHFORT.

441You have an excess of gallantry, Sir Rowland, and press 442things to a conclusion with a most prevailing vehemence. 443But a day or two for decency of marriage—

WAITWELL.

444For decency of funeral, madam! The delay will break 445my heart; or, if that should fail, I shall be poisoned. My 446nephew will get an inkling of my designs and poison me; 447and I would willingly starve him before I die; I would 448gladly go out of the world with that satisfaction. That 449would be some comfort to me, if I could but live so long as 450to be revenged on that unnatural viper.

LADY WISHFORT.

451Is he so unnatural, say you? Truly I would contribute much 452both to the saving of your life, and the accomplishment of 453your revenge. Not that I respect myself, though he has been 454a perfidious wretch to me.

WAITWELL.

455Perfidious to you!

LADY WISHFORT.

456O Sir Rowland, the hours that he has died away at my feet, 457the tears that he has shed, the oaths that he has sworn, the 458palpitations that he has felt, the trances and the tremblings, 459the ardors and the ecstasies, the kneelings and the risings, 460the heart-heavings, and the hand-grippings, the pangs and 461the pathetic regards of his protesting eyes! Oh, no memory 462can register.

WAITWELL.

463What, my rival! Is the rebel my rival? ’A dies.

LADY WISHFORT.

464No, don’t kill him at once, Sir Rowland; starve him 465gradually, inch by inch.

WAITWELL.

466I’ll do’t. In three weeks he shall be barefoot; in a month 467out at knees with begging an alms. He shall starve upward 468and upward, till he has nothing living but his head, and 469then go out in a stink like a candle’s end upon a save-all.

LADY WISHFORT.

470Well, Sir Rowland, you have the way. You are no novice in 471the labyrinth of love; you have the clue. But as I am a person, 472Sir Rowland, you must not attribute my yielding to any 473sinister appetite, or indigestion of widowhood; nor impute 474my complacency to any lethargy of continence. I hope you 475do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.

WAITWELL.

476Far be it from me—

LADY WISHFORT.

477If you do, I protest I must recede, or think that I have 478made a prostitution of decorums; but in the vehemence of 479compassion, and to save the life of a person of so much 480importance—

WAITWELL.

481I esteem it so.

LADY WISHFORT.

482Or else you wrong my condescension.

WAITWELL.

483I do not, I do not!

LADY WISHFORT.

484Indeed you do.

WAITWELL.

485I do not, fair shrine of virtue!

LADY WISHFORT.

486If you think the least scruple of carnality was an ingredient—

WAITWELL.

487Dear madam, no. You are all camphire and frankincense, 488all chastity and odor.

LADY WISHFORT.

489Or that—

Enter Foible.

FOIBLE.

490Madam, the dancers are ready, and there’s one with a 491letter, who must deliver it into your own hands.

LADY WISHFORT.

492Sir Rowland, will you give me leave? Think favorably, 493judge candidly, and conclude you have found a person who 494would suffer racks in honor’s cause, dear Sir Rowland, and 495will wait on you incessantly.

Exit.

WAITWELL.

496Fie, fie! What a slavery have I undergone! Spouse, hast 497thou any cordial? I want spirits.

FOIBLE.

498What a washy rogue art thou, to pant thus for a quarter of 499an hour’s lying and swearing to a fine lady!

WAITWELL.

500Oh, she is the antidote to desire! Spouse, thou wilt fare the 501worse for’t. I shall have no appetite to iteration of nuptials 502this eight-and-forty hours. By this hand I’d rather be a 503chairman in the dog-days than act Sir Rowland till this 504time tomorrow!

Enter Lady Wishfort, with a letter.

LADY WISHFORT.

505Call in the dancers. Sir Rowland, we’ll sit, if you please, 506and see the entertainment. Dance. 507Now, with your permission, Sir Rowland, I will peruse my 508letter. I would open it in your presence, because I would 509not make you uneasy. If it should make you uneasy, I would 510burn it. Speak, if it does. But you may see by the super- 511scription it is like a woman’s hand.

FOIBLE.

512[aside to Waitwell] By heaven! Mrs. Marwood’s; I know it. My heart aches. 513 Get it from her.

WAITWELL.

514A woman’s hand? No, madam, that’s no woman’s hand; 515 I see that already. That’s somebody whose throat must be 516 cut.

LADY WISHFORT.

517Nay, Sir Rowland, since you give me a proof of your 518passion by your jealousy, I promise you I’ll make you a 519return, by a frank communication. You shall see it; we’ll 520open it together. Look you here. ( Reads.) “Madam, 521though unknown to you”—Look you there, ’tis from nobody 522that I know—“I have that honor for your character, that 523I think myself obliged to let you know you are abused. He 524who pretends to be Sir Rowland is a cheat and a rascal.” 525—Oh, heavens! what’s this?

FOIBLE.

526Unfortunate! all’s ruined!

WAITWELL.

527How, how, let me see, let me see! ( Reading.) “A rascal, 528and disguised and suborned for that imposture.” —O 529villainy! O villainy —“by the contrivance of—”

LADY WISHFORT.

530I shall faint, I shall die, I shall die, oh!

FOIBLE.

531[aside to Waitwell] Say ’tis your nephew’s hand. Quickly, his plot, swear, 532 swear it!

WAITWELL.

533Here’s a villain! Madam, don’t you perceive it? don’t you 534see it?

LADY WISHFORT.

535Too well, too well! I have seen too much.

WAITWELL.

536I told you at first I knew the hand. A woman’s hand? The 537rascal writes a sort of a large hand, your Roman hand. 538I saw there was a throat to be cut presently. If he were my 539son, as he is my nephew, I’d pistol him!

FOIBLE.

540Oh, treachery! But are you sure, Sir Rowland, it is his 541writing?

WAITWELL.

542Sure? Am I here? Do I live? Do I love this pearl of India? 543I have twenty letters in my pocket from him in the same 544character.

LADY WISHFORT.

545How!

FOIBLE.

546Oh, what luck it is, Sir Rowland, that you were present at 547this juncture! This was the business that brought Mr. 548Mirabell disguised to Madam Millamant this afternoon. 549I thought something was contriving, when he stole by me 550and would have hid his face.

LADY WISHFORT.

551How, how! I heard the villain was in the house indeed; 552and now I remember, my niece went away abruptly, when 553Sir Wilfull was to have made his addresses.

FOIBLE.

554Then, then, madam, Mr. Mirabell waited for her in her 555chamber, but I would not tell your ladyship to discompose 556you when you were to receive Sir Rowland.

WAITWELL.

557Enough, his date is short.

FOIBLE.

558No, good Sir Rowland, don’t incur the law.

WAITWELL.

559Law? I care not for law. I can but die, and ’tis in a good 560cause. My lady shall be satisfied of my truth and innocence, 561though it cost me my life.

LADY WISHFORT.

562No, dear Sir Rowland, don’t fight; if you should be killed, I 563must never show my face; of hanged—oh, consider my 564reputation, Sir Rowland! No, you shan’t fight. I’ll go in and 565examine my niece; I’ll make her confess. I conjure you, 566Sir Rowland, by all your love, not to fight.

WAITWELL.

567I am charmed, madam; I obey. But some proof you must 568let me give you; I’ll go for a black box, which contains the 569writings of my whole estate, and deliver that into your hands.

LADY WISHFORT.

570Aye, dear Sir Rowland, that will be some comfort; bring the 571black box.

WAITWELL.

572And may I presume to bring a contract to be signed this 573night? May I hope so far?

LADY WISHFORT.

574Bring what you will; but come alive, pray come alive. Oh, 575this is a happy discovery!

WAITWELL.

576Dead or alive I’ll come, and married we will be in spite of 577treachery; aye, and get an heir that shall defeat the last 578remaining glimpse of hope in my abandoned nephew. 579Come, my buxom widow.

ErrorMetrica

580

Ere long you shall substantial proof receive

581

That I’m an arrant knight—

FOIBLE.

582

[aside to Waitwell]

Or arrant knave.

Exeunt.

[V]

Scene continues.

Enter Lady Wishfort and Foible.

LADY WISHFORT.

1Out of my house, out of my house, thou viper! thou serpent, 2that I have fostered! thou bosom traitress that I raised 3from nothing! Begone! begone! begone! go! go! That I 4took from washing of old gauze and weaving of dead hair, 5with a bleak blue nose, over a chafing dish of starved embers, 6and dining behind a traverse rag, in a shop no bigger than a 7birdcage! Go, go! starve again, do, do!

FOIBLE.

8Dear madam, I’ll beg pardon on my knees.

LADY WISHFORT.

9Away! out! out! Go set up for yourself again! Do, drive a 10trade, do, with your three-pennyworth of small ware, 11flaunting upon a pack-thread, under a brandy-seller’s bulk, 12or against a dead wall by a ballad-monger! Go, hang out an 13old frisoneer gorget, with a yard of yellow colberteen again. 14Do! an old gnawed mask, two rows of pins, and a child’s 15fiddle; a glass necklace with the beads broken, and a 16quilted nightcap with one ear. Go, go, drive a trade! These 17were your commodities, you treacherous trull! This was you 18merchandise you dealt in, when I took you into my house, 19placed you next myself, and made you governante of my 20whole family! You have forgot this, have you, now you have 21feathered your nest?

FOIBLE.

22No, no, dear madam. Do but hear me; have but a moment’s 23patience. I’ll confess all. Mr. Mirabell seduced me; I am 24not the first that he has wheedled with his dissembling 25tongue. Your ladyship’s own wisdom has been deluded by 26him; then how should I, a poor ignorant, defend myself? 27O madam, if you knew but what he promised me, and how 28he assured me your ladyship should come to no damage! 29Or else the wealth of the Indies should not have bribed me 30to conspire against so good, so sweet, so kind a lady as you 31have been to me.

LADY WISHFORT.

32No damage? What, to betray me, to marry me to a cast 33servingman? to make me a receptacle, an hospital for a de- 34cayed pimp? No damage? O thou frontless impudence, 35more than a big-bellied actress.

FOIBLE.

36Pray do but hear me, madam; he could not marry your 37ladyship, madam. No indeed; his marriage was to have been 38void in law, for he was married to me first, to secure your 39ladyship. He could not have bedded your ladyship; for if he 40had consummated with your ladyship, he must have run 41the risk of the law and been put upon his clergy. Yes 42indeed; I inquired of the law in that case before I would 43meddle or make.

LADY WISHFORT.

44What, then I have been your property, have I? I have been 45convenient to you, it seems! While you were catering for 46Mirabell, I have been broker for you? What, have you made 47a passive bawd of me? This exceeds all precedent; I am 48brought to fine uses, to become a botcher of secondhand 49marriages between Abigails and Andrews! I’ll couple you! 50Yes, I’ll baste you together, you and your Philander! I’ll 51Duke’s Place you, as I’m a person! Your turtle is in custody 52already; you shall coo in the same cage, if there be constable 53or warrant in the parish.

Exit.

FOIBLE.

54Oh, that ever I was born! Oh, that I was ever married! 55A bride! aye, I shall be a Bridewell-bride. Oh!

Enter Mrs. Fainall.

MRS. FAINALL.

56Poor Foible, what’s the matter?

FOIBLE.

57O madam, my lady’s gone for a constable. I shall be had 58to a justice, and put to Bridewell to beat hemp. Poor 59Waitwell’s gone to prison already.

MRS. FAINALL.

60Have a good heart, Foible; Mirabell’s gone to give 61security for him. This is all Marwood’s and my husband’s 62doing.

FOIBLE.

63Yes, yes, I know it, madam; she was in my lady’s closet, and 64overheard all that you said to me before dinner. She sent 65the letter to my lady; and that missing effect, Mr. Fainall 66laid this plot to arrest Waitwell, when he pretended to go 67for the papers; and in the meantime Mrs. Marwood de- 68clared all to my lady.

MRS. FAINALL.

69Was there no mention made of me in the letter? My 70mother does not suspect my being in the confederacy? I 71fancy Marwood has not told her, though she has told my 72husband.

FOIBLE.

73Yes, madam; but my lady did not see that part. We stifled 74the letter before she read so far. Has that mischievous devil 75told Mr. Fainall of your ladyship then?

MRS. FAINALL.

76Aye, all’s out, my affair with Mirabell, everything discovered. 77This is the last day of our living together; that’s 78my comfort.

FOIBLE.

79Indeed, madam, and so ’tis a comfort if you knew all. 80He has been even with your ladyship; which I could have 81told you long enough since, but I love to keep peace and 82quietness by my good will. I had rather bring friends 83together than set ’em at distance. But Mrs. Marwood and 84he are nearer related than ever their parents thought for.

MRS. FAINALL.

85Say’st thou so, Foible? Canst thou prove this?

FOIBLE.

86I can take my oath of it, madam; so can Mrs. Mincing. 87We have had many a fair word from Madam Marwood, to 88conceal something that passed in our chamber one evening 89when you were at Hyde Park and we were thought to have 90gone a-walking; but we went up unawares, though we were 91sworn to secrecy too. Madam Marwood took a book and 92swore us upon it, but it was a book of verses and poems. So 93as long as it was not a Bible oath, we may break it with a 94safe conscience.

MRS. FAINALL.

95This discovery is the most opportune thing I could wish. 96Now, Mincing?

Enter Mincing.

MINCING.

97My lady would speak with Mrs. Foible, mem. Mr. Mirabell 98is with her; he has set your spouse al liberty, Mrs. Foible, 99and would have you hide yourself in my lady’s closet till my 100old lady’s anger is abated. Oh, my old lady is in a perilous 101passion at something Mr. Fainall has said; he swears, and 102my old lady cries. There’s a fearful hurricane, I vow. He 103says, mem, how that he’ll have my lady’s fortune made 104over to him, or he’ll be divorced.

MRS. FAINALL.

105Does your lady or Mirabell know that?

MINCING.

106Yes, mem; they have sent me to see if Sir Wilfull be sober 107and to bring him to them. My lady is resolved to have him, 108I think, rather than lose such a vast sum as six thousand 109pound. Oh, come, Mrs. Foible, I hear my old lady.

MRS. FAINALL.

110Foible, you must tell Mincing that she must prepare to vouch 111when I call her.

FOIBLE.

112Yes, yes, madam.

MINCING.

113O yes, mem, I’ll vouch anything for your ladyship’s service, 114be what it will.

Exeunt Mincing and Foible.

Enter Lady Wishfort and Marwood.

LADY WISHFORT.

115O my dear friend, how can I enumerate the benefits that 116I have received from your goodness? To you I owe the 117timely discovery of the false vows of Mirabell; to you the 118detection of the imposter Sir Rowland. And now you are 119become an intercessor with my son-in-law, to save the honor 120of my house, and compound for the frailties of my daughter. 121Well, friend, you are enough to reconcile me to the bad 122world, or else I would retire to deserts and solitudes, and 123feed harmless sheep by groves and purling streams. Dear 124Marwood, let us leave the world, and retire by ourselves and 125be shepherdesses.

MRS. MARWOOD.

126Let us first dispatch the affair in hand, madam. We shall 127have leisure to think of retirement afterwards. Here is one 128who is concerned in the treaty.

LADY WISHFORT.

129O daughter, daughter, is it possible thou shouldst be my 130child, bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh, and, as I may 131say, another me, and yet transgress the most minute 132particle of severe virtue? It is possible you should lean aside 133to iniquity, who have been cast in the direct mold of virtue? 134I have not only been a mold but a pattern for you, and a 135model for you, after you were brought into the world.

MRS. FAINALL.

136I don’t understand your ladyship.

LADY WISHFORT.

137Not understand? Why, have you not been naught? Have 138you not been sophisticated? Not understand? Here I am 139ruined to compound for your caprices and your cuckoldoms. 140I must pawn my plate and my jewels, and ruin my niece, and 141all little enough.

MRS. FAINALL.

142I am wronged and abused, and so are you. ’Tis a false 143accusation, as false as hell, as false as your friend there, aye, 144or your friend’s friend, my false husband.

MRS. MARWOOD.

145My friend, Mrs. Fainall? Your husband my friend? What 146do you mean?

MRS. FAINALL.

147I know what I mean, madam, and so do you; and so shall 148the world at a time convenient.

MRS. MARWOOD.

149I am sorry to see you so passionate, madam. More temper 150would look more like innocence. But I have done. I am 151sorry my zeal to serve your ladyship and family should admit 152of misconstruction, or make me liable to affronts. You will 153pardon me, madam, if I meddle no more with an affair in 154which I am not personally concerned.

LADY WISHFORT.

155O dear friend, I am so ashamed that you should meet with 156such returns! [To Mrs. Fainall.] You ought to ask pardon 157on your knees, ungrateful creature; she deserves more from 158you than all your life can accomplish. [To Mrs. Marwood.] 159Oh, don’t leave me destitute in this perplexity! No, stick to 160me, my good genius.

MRS. FAINALL.

161I tell you, madam, you’re abused. Stick to you? Aye, like a 162leech, to suck your best blood; she’ll drop off when she’s 163full. Madam, you shan’t pawn a bodkin, nor part with a 164brass counter, in composition for me. I defy ’em all. Let ’em 165prove their aspersions; I know my own innocence, and dare 166stand by a trial.

Exit.

LADY WISHFORT.

167Why, if she should be innocent, if she should be wronged 168after all, ha? I don’t know what to think—and, I promise 169you, her education has been unexceptionable. I may say it; 170for I chiefly made it my own care to initiate her very infancy 171in the rudiments of virtue, and to impress upon her tender 172years a young odium and aversion to the very sight of 173men—aye, friend, she would ha’ shrieked if she had but seen 174a man, till she was in her teens. As I’m a person, ’tis true. 175She was never suffered to play with a male child, though but 176in coats; nay, her very babies were of the feminine gender. 177Oh, she never looked a man in the face but her own father, 178or the chaplain, and him we made a shift to put upon her for 179a woman, by the help of his long garments and his sleek face, 180till she was going in her fifteen.

MRS. MARWOOD.

181’Twas much she should be deceived so long.

LADY WISHFORT.

182I warrant you, or she would never have borne to have been 183catechized by him; and have heard his long lectures against 184singing and dancing, and such debaucheries; and going to 185filthy plays, and profane music-meetings, where the lewd 186trebles squeak nothing but bawdy, and the basses roar 187blasphemy. Oh, she would have swooned at the sight or 188name of an obscene playbook! And can I think, after all 189this, that my daughter can be naught? What, a whore? 190And thought it excommunication to set her foot within 191the door of a playhouse! O my dear friend, I can’t believe 192it, no, no! As she says, let him prove it, let him prove it.

MRS. MARWOOD.

193Prove it, madam? What, and have your name prostituted in 194a public court! Yours and your daughter’s reputation wor- 195ried at the bar by a pack of bawling lawyers! To be ushered 196in with an Oyez of scandal, and have your case opened by an 197old fumbling lecher in a quoif like a man midwife; to 198bring your daughter’s infamy to light; to be a theme for 199legal punsters and quibblers by the statute, and become 200a jest against a rule of court, where there is no precedent 201for a jest in any record, not even in Doomsday Book; to 202discompose the gravity of the bench, and provoke naughty 203interrogatories in more naughty law Latin, while the 204good judge, tickled with the proceeding, simpers under a 205gray beard, and fidges off and on his cushion as if he had 206swallowed cantharides, or sat upon cow-itch.

LADY WISHFORT.

207Oh, ’tis very hard!

MRS. MARWOOD.

208And then to have my young revelers of the Temple take 209notes, like prentices at a conventicle; and after, talk it all 210over again in commons, or before drawers in an eating 211house.

LADY WISHFORT.

212Worse and worse!

MRS. MARWOOD.

213Nay, this is nothing; if it would end here, ’twere well. But 214it must, after this, be consigned by the shorthand writers 215to the public press; and from thence be transferred to the 216hands, nay into the throats and lungs of hawkers, with 217voice more licentious than the loud flounder-man’s, or 218the woman that cries gray peas. And this you must hear till 219you are stunned; nay, you must hear nothing else for some 220days.

LADY WISHFORT.

221Oh, ’tis insupportable! No, no, dear friend; make it up, 222make it up; aye, aye, I’ll compound. I’ll give up all, myself 223and my all, my niece and her all, anything, everything for 224composition.

MRS. MARWOOD.

225Nay, madam, I advise nothing; I only lay before you, as a 226friend, the inconveniences which perhaps you have over- 227seen. Here comes Mr. Fainall. If he will be satisfied to 228huddle up all in silence, I shall be glad. You must think I 229would rather congratulate than condole with you.

Enter Fainall.

LADY WISHFORT.

230Aye, aye, I do not doubt it, dear Marwood; no, no, I do 231not doubt it.

FAINALL.

232Well, madam, I have suffered myself to be overcome by the 233importunity of this lady your friend, and am content that 234you shall enjoy your own proper estate during life, on 235condition you oblige yourself never to marry, under such 236penalty as I think convenient.

LADY WISHFORT.

237Never to marry?

FAINALL.

238No more Sir Rowlands; the next imposture may not be so 239timely detected.

MRS. MARWOOD.

240That condition, I dare answer, my lady will consent to, 241without difficulty; she has already but too much experienced 242the perfidiousness of men. Besides, madam, when we retire 243to our pastoral solitude, we shall bid adieu to all other 244thoughts.

LADY WISHFORT.

245Aye, that’s true; but in case of necessity, as of health, or 246some such emergency—

FAINALL.

247Oh, if you are prescribed marriage, you shall be considered; 248I will only reserve to myself the power to choose for you. 249If your physic be wholesome, it matters not who is your 250apothecary. Next, my wife shall settle on me the remainder 251of her fortune, not made over already; and for her maintenance 252depend entirely on my discretion.

LADY WISHFORT.

253This is most inhumanly savage, exceeding the barbarity of 254a Muscovite husband.

FAINALL.

255I learned it from his Czarish majesty’s retinue, in a winter 256evening’s conference over brandy and pepper, amongst other 257secrets of matrimony and policy, as they are at present 258practiced in the northern hemisphere. But this must be 259agreed unto, and that positively. Lastly, I will be endowed, 260in right of my wife, with that six thousand pound, 261which is the moiety of Mrs. Millamant’s fortune in your 262possession; and which she has forfeited (as will appear by the 263last will and testament of your deceased husband, Sir 264Jonathan Wishfort) by her disobedience in contracting 265herself against your consent or knowledge, and by refusing 266the offered match with Sir Wilfull Witwoud, which you, 267like a careful aunt, had provided for her.

LADY WISHFORT.

268My nephew was non compos, and could not make his 269addresses.

FAINALL.

270I come to make demands. I’ll hear no objections.

LADY WISHFORT.

271You will grant me time to consider?

FAINALL.

272Yes, while the instrument is drawing, to which you must 273set your hand till more sufficient deeds can be perfected; 274which I will take care shall be done with all possible speed. 275In the meanwhile, I will go for the said instrument, and 276till my return you may balance this matter in your own 277discretion.

Exit.

LADY WISHFORT.

278This insolence is beyond all precedent, all parallel. Must 279I be subject to this merciless villain?

MRS. MARWOOD.

280’Tis severe indeed, madam, that you should smart for 281your daughter’s wantonness.

LADY WISHFORT.

282’Twas against my consent that she married this barbarian, 283but she would have him, though her year was not out. 284—Ah! her first husband, my son Languish, would not have 285carried it thus. Well, that was my choice, this is hers; she 286is matched now with a witness. I shall be mad! Dear 287friend, is there no comfort for me? Must I live to be confiscated 288at this rebel rate? —Here come two more of my 289Egyptian plagues, too.

Enter Millamant and Sir Wilfull Witwoud.

SIR WILFULL.

290Aunt, your servant.

LADY WISHFORT.

291Out, caterpillar, call me not aunt! I know thee not!

SIR WILFULL.

292I confess I have been a little in disguise, as they say. 293’Sheart! and I’m sorry for’t. What would you have? I hope 294I committed no offense, aunt, and, if I did, I am willing to 295make satisfaction; and what can a man say fairer? If I 296have broke anything, I’ll pay for’t, an it cost a pound. And 297so let that content for what’s past, and make no more 298words. For what’s to come, to pleasure you I’m willing to 299marry my cousin. So pray let’s all be friends; she and I are 300agreed upon the matter before a witness.

LADY WISHFORT.

301How’s this, dear niece? Have I any comfort? Can this 302be true?

MILLAMANT.

303I am content to be a sacrifice to your repose, madam; and 304to convince you that I had no hand in the plot, as you 305were misinformed, I have laid my commands on Mirabell 306to come in person, and be a witness that I give my hand 307to this flower of knighthood; and for the contract that 308passed between Mirabell and me, I have obliged him to 309make a resignation of it in your ladyship’s presence. He is 310without, and waits your leave for admittance.

LADY WISHFORT.

311Well, I’ll swear I am something revived at this testimony of 312your obedience; but I cannot admit that traitor. I fear I 313cannot fortify myself to support his appearance. He is as 314terrible to me as a Gorgon; if I see him, I fear I shall turn to 315stone, petrify incessantly.

MILLAMANT.

316If you disoblige him, he may resent your refusal and insist 317upon the contract still. Then ’tis the last time he will be 318offensive to you.

LADY WISHFORT.

319Are you sure it will be the last time? If I were sure of that! 320Shall I never see him again?

MILLAMANT.

321Sir Wilfull, you and he are to travel together, are you not?

SIR WILFULL.

322’Sheart, the gentleman’s a civil gentleman, aunt; let him 323come in. Why, we are sworn brothers and fellow travelers. 324We are to be Pylades and Orestes, he and I. He is to be my 325interpreter in foreign parts. He has been overseas once 326already; and with proviso that I marry my cousin, will cross 327’em once again, only to bear me company. ’Sheart, I’ll call 328him in. An I set on’t once, he shall come in; and see who’ll 329hinder him.

Exit.

MRS. MARWOOD.

330This is precious fooling, if it would pass; but I’ll know the 331bottom of it.

LADY WISHFORT.

332O dear Marwood, you are not going?

MRS. MARWOOD.

333Not far, madam; I’ll return immediately.

Exit.

Re-enter Sir Wilfull and Mirabell.

SIR WILFULL.

334Look up, man, I’ll stand by you; ’sbud an she do frown, 335she can’t kill you; besides—harkee, she dare not frown 336desperately, because her face is none of her own. ’Sheart, 337an she should, her forehead would wrinkle like the coat of a 338cream cheese; but mum for that, fellow traveler.

MIRABELL.

339If a deep sense of the many injuries I have offered to so good 340a lady, with a sincere remorse and a hearty contrition, can 341but obtain the least glance of compassion, I am too happy. 342Ah, madam, there was a time! But let it be forgotten. I 343confess I have deservedly forfeited the high place I once held, 344of sighing at your feet. Nay, kill me not, by turning from me 345in disdain. I come not to plead for favor; nay, not for 346pardon. I am a suppliant only for your pity. I am going 347where I never shall behold you more.

SIR WILFULL.

348How, fellow traveler! You shall go by yourself then.

MIRABELL.

349Let me be pitied first, and afterwards forgotten —I ask 350no more.

SIR WILFULL.

351By’r Lady, a very reasonable request, and will cost you 352nothing, aunt. Come, come forgive and forget, aunt; why 353you must, an you are a Christian.

MIRABELL.

354Consider, madam, in reality you could not receive much 355prejudice; it was an innocent device, though I confess it had 356a face of guiltiness. It was at most an artifice which love 357contrived, and errors which love produces have ever been 358accounted venial. At least think it is punishment enough 359that I have lost what in my heart I hold most dear, that 360to your cruel indignation I have offered up this beauty, 361and with her my peace and quiet; nay, all my hopes of future 362comfort.

SIR WILFULL.

363An he does not move me, would I might never be o’ the 364quorum! An it were not as good a deed as to drink, to 365give her to him again, I would I might never take shipping! 366Aunt, if you don’t forgive quickly, I shall melt, I can tell you 367that. My contract went no farther than a little mouth-glue, 368and that’s hardly dry; one doleful sigh more from my 369fellow traveler, and ’tis dissolved.

LADY WISHFORT.

370Well, nephew, upon your account —ah, he has a false 371insinuating tongue! Well, sir, I will stifle my just resentment 372at my nephew’s request. I will endeavor what I can to forget, 373but on proviso that you resign the contract with my niece 374immediately.

MIRABELL.

375It is writing and with papers of concern; but I have 376sent my servant for it, and will deliver it to you, with all 377acknowledgments for your transcendent goodness.

LADY WISHFORT.

378[aside] Oh, he has witchcraft in his eyes and tongue! When I did 379 not see him, I could have bribed a villain to his assassination; 380 but his appearance rakes the embers which have so long 381 lain smothered in my breast.

Enter Fainall and Mrs. Marwood.

FAINALL.

382Your date of deliberation, madam, is expired. Here is 383the instrument; are you prepared to sign?

LADY WISHFORT.

384If I were prepared, I am not empowered. My niece exerts a 385lawful claim, having matched herself by my direction to 386Sir Wilfull.

FAINALL.

387That sham is too gross to pass on me, though ’tis imposed 388on you, madam.

MILLAMANT.

389Sir, I have given my consent.

MIRABELL.

390And, sir, I have resigned my pretensions.

SIR WILFULL.

391And, sir, I assert my right; and will maintain it in defiance 392of you, sir, and of your instrument. ’Sheart, an you talk of an 393instrument, sir, I have an old fox by my thigh shall hack 394your instrument of ram vellum to shreds, sir! It shall not be 395sufficient for a mittimus or a tailor’s measure. Therefore, 396withdraw your instrument, sir, or by’r Lady, I shall draw 397mine.

LADY WISHFORT.

398Hold, nephew, hold!

MILLAMANT.

399Good Sir Wilfull, respite your valor.

FAINALL.

400Indeed? Are you provided of a guard, with your single 401beefeater there? But I’m prepared for you, and insist upon 402my first proposal. You shall submit your own estate to my 403management and absolutely make over my wife’s to my sole 404use, as pursuant to the purport and tenor of this other 405covenant. [To Millamant.] I suppose, madam, your con- 406sent is not requisite in this case; nor, Mr. Mirabell, your 407resignation; nor, Sir Wilfull, your right. You may draw your 408fox if you please, sir, and make a bear-garden flourish somewhere 409else; for here it will not avail. This, my Lady Wishfort, 410must be subscribed, or your darling daughter’s turned 411adrift, like a leaky hulk, to sink or swim, as she and the 412current of this lewd town can agree.

LADY WISHFORT.

413Is there no means, no remedy to stop my ruin? Ungrateful 414wretch! dost thou not owe thy being, thy subsistence, to 415my daughter’s fortune?

FAINALL.

416I’ll answer you when I have the rest of it in my possession.

MIRABELL.

417But that you would not accept of a remedy from my hands— 418I own I have not deserved you should owe any obligation 419to me; or else perhaps I could advise—

LADY WISHFORT.

420Oh, what? what? to save me and my child from ruin, 421from want, I’ll forgive all that’s past; nay, I’ll consent to anything 422to come, to be delivered from this tyranny.

MIRABELL.

423Aye, madam, but that is too late; my reward is intercepted. 424You have disposed of her who only could have made 425me a compensation for all my services. But be it as it may, 426I am resolved I’ll serve you; you shall not be wronged in 427this savage manner.

LADY WISHFORT.

428How! Dear Mr. Mirabell, can you be so generous at last? 429But it is not possible. Harkee, I’ll break my nephew’s match; 430you shall have my niece yet, and all her fortune, if you can 431but save me from this imminent danger.

MIRABELL.

432Will you? I take you at your word. I ask no more. I must 433have leave for two criminals to appear.

LADY WISHFORT.

434Aye, aye; anybody, anybody!

MIRABELL.

435Foible is one, and a penitent.

Enter Mrs. Fainall, Foible, and Mincing.

MRS. MARWOOD.

436 (to Fainall) Oh, my shame! These corrupt things are bought and 437brought hither to expose me.

Mirabell and Lady Wishfort go to Mrs. Fainall and Foible.

FAINALL.

438If it must all come out, why let ’em know it; ’tis but the 439way of the world. That shall not urge me to relinquish or 440abate one tittle of my terms; no, I will insist the more.

FOIBLE.

441Yes indeed, madam; I’ll take my Bible oath of it.

MINCING.

442And so will I, mem.

LADY WISHFORT.

443O Marwood, Marwood, art thou false? my friend deceive 444me? Hast thou been a wicked accomplice with that pro- 445fligate man?

MRS. MARWOOD.

446Have you so much ingratitude and injustice, to give 447credit against your friend to the aspersions of two such 448mercenary trulls?

MINCING.

449Mercenary, mem? I scorn your words. ’Tis true we found 450you and Mr. Fainall in the blue garret; by the same token, 451you swore us to secrecy upon Messalina’s poems. Mercenary? 452No, if we would have been mercenary, we should have 453held our tongues; you would have bribed us sufficiently.

FAINALL.

454Go, you are an insignificant thing! Well, what are you 455the better for this? Is this Mr. Mirabell’s expedient? I’ll be 456put off no longer. You thing, that was a wife, shall smart 457for this! I will not leave thee wherewithal to hide thy 458shame; your body shall be as naked as your reputation.

MRS. FAINALL.

459I despise you, and defy your malice! You have aspersed 460me wrongfully. I have proved your falsehood. Go you and 461your treacherous—I will not name it, but starve together, 462perish!

FAINALL.

463Not while you are worth a groat, indeed, my dear. Madam, 464I’ll be fooled no longer.

LADY WISHFORT.

465Ah, Mr. Mirabell, this is small comfort, the detection of this 466affair.

MIRABELL.

467Oh, in good time. Your leave for the other offender and 468penitent to appear, madam.

Enter Waitwell with a box of writings.

LADY WISHFORT.

469O Sir Rowland! Well, rascal?

WAITWELL.

470What your ladyship pleases. I have brought the black 471box at last, madam.

MIRABELL.

472Give it to me. Madam, you remember your promise.

LADY WISHFORT.

473Aye, dear sir.

MIRABELL.

474Where are the gentlemen?

WAITWELL.

475At hand, sir, rubbing their eyes; just risen from sleep.

FAINALL.

476’Sdeath, what’s this to me? I’ll not wait your private 477concerns.

Enter Petulant and Witwoud.

PETULANT.

478How now? What’s the matter? Whose hand’s out?

WITWOUD.

479Heyday! what, are you all got together, like players at 480the end of the last act?

MIRABELL.

481You may remember, gentlemen, I once requested your 482hands as witnesses to a certain parchment.

WITWOUD.

483Aye, I do; my hand I remember. Petulant set his mark.

MIRABELL.

484You wrong him; his name is fairly written, as shall appear. 485You do not remember, gentlemen, anything of what that 486parchment contained?

Undoing the box.

WITWOUD.

487No.

PETULANT.

488Not I. I writ. I read nothing.

MIRABELL.

489Very well; now you shall know. Madam, your promise.

LADY WISHFORT.

490Aye, aye, sir, upon my honor.

MIRABELL.

491Mr. Fainall, it is now time that you should know that 492your lady, while she was at her own disposal, and before you 493had by your insinuations wheedled her out of a pretended 494settlement of the greatest part of her fortune—

FAINALL.

495Sir! pretended!

MIRABELL.

496Yes, sir. I say that this lady, while a widow, having, it 497seems, received some cautions respecting your inconstancy 498and tyranny of temper, which from her own partial opinion 499and fondness of you she could never have suspected—she did, 500I say, by the wholesome advice of friends and of sages 501learned in the laws of this land, deliver this same as her act 502and deed to me in trust, and to the uses within mentioned. 503You may read if you please — (Holding out the parchment.) 504though perhaps what is inscribed on the back may serve 505your occasions.

FAINALL.

506Very likely, sir. What’s here? Damnation! ( Reads.) “A 507deed of conveyance of the whole estate real of Arabella 508Languish, widow, in trust to Edward Mirabell.” 509Confusion!

MIRABELL.

510Even so, sir; ’tis the way of the world, sir, of the widows of 511the world. I suppose this deed may bear an elder date than 512what you have obtained from your lady.

FAINALL.

513Perfidious fiend! then thus I’ll be revenged.

Offers to run at Mrs. Fainall.

SIR WILFULL.

514Hold, sir! Now you may make your bear-garden flourish 515somewhere else, sir.

FAINALL.

516Mirabell, you shall hear of this, sir; be sure you shall. Let me 517pass, oaf!

Exit.

MRS. FAINALL.

518Madam, you seem to stifle your resentment; you had better 519give it vent.

MRS. MARWOOD.

520Yes, it shall have vent, and to your confusion; or I’ll perish 521in the attempt.

Exit.

LADY WISHFORT.

522O daughter, daughter, ’tis plain thou hast inherited thy 523mother’s prudence.

MRS. FAINALL.

524Thank Mr. Mirabell, a cautious friend, to whose advice all 525is owing.

LADY WISHFORT.

526Well, Mr. Mirabell, you have kept your promise, and I 527must perform mine. First, I pardon, for your sake, Sir Row- 528land there and Foible. The next thing is to break the 529matter to my nephew, and how to do that—

MIRABELL.

530For that, madam, give yourself no trouble; let me have 531your consent. Sir Wilfull is my friend; he has had com- 532passion upon lovers, and generously engaged a volunteer 533in this action for our service, and now designs to prosecute 534his travels.

SIR WILFULL.

535’Sheart, aunt, I have no mind to marry. My cousin’s a fine 536lady, and the gentleman loves her, and she loves him, and 537they deserve one another; my resolution is to see foreign 538parts. I have set on’t, and when I’m set on’t, I must do’t. 539And if these two gentlemen would travel too, I think they 540may be spared.

PETULANT.

541For my part, I say little; I think things are best off or on.

WITWOUD.

542I gad, I understand nothing of the matter; I’m in a maze 543yet, like a dog in a dancing school.

LADY WISHFORT.

544Well, sir, take her, and with her all the joy I can give you.

MILLAMANT.

545Why does not the man take me? Would you have me give 546myself to you over again?

MIRABELL.

547Aye, and over and over again; for I would have you as 548often as possibly I can. ( Kisses her hand.) Well, heaven 549grant I love you not too well; that’s all my fear.

SIR WILFULL.

550’Sheart, you’ll have time enough to toy after you’re 551married; or if you will toy now, let us have a dance in the 552meantime, that we who are not lovers may have some other 553employment besides looking on.

MIRABELL.

554With all my heart, dear Sir Wilfull. What shall we do for 555music?

FOIBLE.

556Oh, sir, some that were provided for Sir Rowland’s enter- 557tainment are yet within call.

A dance.

LADY WISHFORT.

558As I am a person, I can hold out no longer. I have wasted 559my spirits so today already that I am ready to sink under the 560fatigue; and I cannot but have some fears upon me yet that 561my son Fainall will pursue some desperate course.

MIRABELL.

562Madam, disquiet not yourself on that account; to my 563knowledge his circumstances are such, he must of force 564comply. For my part, I will contribute all that in me lies 565to a reunion. In the meantime, madam, (To Mrs. Fainall.) 566let me before these witnesses restore to you this deed of trust; 567it may be a means, well-managed, to make you live easily 568together. 569From hence let those be warned, who mean to wed, 570Lest mutual falsehood stain the bridal bed; 571For each deceiver to his cost may find, 572That marriage frauds too oft are paid in kind.

Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE

Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle

After our Epilogue this crowd dismisses,

I’m thinking how this play'll be pulled to pieces.

But pray consider, ere you doom its fall,

How hard a thing ’twould please you all.

There are some critics so with spleen diseased,

They scarcely come inclining to be pleased;

And sure he must have more than mortal skill,

Who pleases any one against his will.

Then, all bad poets we are sure are foes,

And how their number's swelled, the town well knows;

In shoals I've marked ’em judging in the pit;

Though they're on no pretense for judgment fit,

But that they have been damned for want of wit.

Since when, they, by their own offenses taught,

Set up for spies on plays, and finding fault.

Others there are whose malice we'd prevent;

Such who watch plays with scurrilous intent

To mark out who by characters are meant.

And though no prefect likeness they can trace,

Yet each pretends to know the copied face.

These with false glosses feed their own ill nature,

And turn to libel what was meant a satire.

May such malicious fops this fortune find,

To think themselves alone the fools designed;

If any are so arrogantly vain,

To think they singly can support a scene,

And furnish fool enough to entertain.

For well the leaned and the judicious know

That satire scorns to stoop so meanly low

As any one abstracted fop to show.

For, as when painters form a matchless face,

They from each fair one catch some different grace;

And shining features in one portrait blend,

To wich no single beauty must pretend;

So poets oft do in one piece expose

Whole belles assemblées of coquettes and beaux.

William Congreve

The Way of the World

[I]

[2]

[III]

[IV]

[V]

EPILOGUE