Lady Wish. I have no more patience-If I have not fretted myself till I am pale again, there's no veracity in me. Fetch me the red-- | the red, do you hear, sweet-heart! an arrant ash-colour, as I'm a person. Look you how this wench stirs ! why dost thou not fetch me a little red? didst thou not hear me, mopus? Peg. The red ratafia, does your ladyship mean, or the cherry-brandy? Lady Wish. Ratafia, fool! no, fool, not the ratafia, fool!-Grant me patience! I mean the Spanish paper, ideot; complexion. Darling paint, paint, paint! dost thou understand that, changeling? dangling thy hands like bobbins before thee! why dost thou not stir, puppet? thou wooden thing upon wires. Peg. Lord, madam, your ladyship is so impatient-I cannot come at the paint, madam; Mrs Foible has locked it up, and carried the key with her. Lady Wish. Plague take you both- -Fetch me the cherry-brandy, then. [Erit PEG.] I'm as pale and as faint-I look like Mrs Qualmsick, the curate's wife, that's always breeding-Wench, come, come, wench, what art thou doing? sipping! tasting! save thee, dost thou not know the bottle? Enter PEG with a bottle and china cup. Lady Wish. A cup, save thee! and what a cup hast thou brought! dost thou take me for a fairy, to drink out of an acorn? why didst thou not bring thy thimble? hast thou ne'er a brass thimble clinking in thy pocket, with a bit of nutmeg? I warrant thee. Come, fill, fill-So-again. See who that is. [One knocks.] Set down the bottle first. Here, here, under the table-What, would'st thou go with the bottle in thy hand, like a tapster? [Exit PEG.] As I'm a person, this wench has lived in an inn upon the road, before she came to me, like Maritornes, the Asturian, in Don Quixote. | No Foible yet? Enter PEG. Peg. No, madam, Mrs Marwood. Lady Wish. O, Marwood! let her come in. Come in, good Marwood. Enter MRS MARWOOD. Mrs Mar. I'm surprised to find your ladyship in dishabille at this time of day. Lady Wish. Foible's a lost thing; has been abroad since morning, and never heard of since. Mrs Mar. I saw her but now, as I came masked through the park, in conference with Mirabell. Lady Wish. With Mirabell! you call my blood into my face, with mentioning that traitor. She durst not have the confidence. I sent her to negociate an affair, in which, if I'm detected, I'm undone. If that wheedling villain has wrought upon Foible to detect me, I'm ruined. Oh, my dear friend! I'm a wretch of wretches, if I'm detected. Mrs Mar. O, madam, you cannot suspect Mrs Foible's integrity. Lady Wish. O, he carries poison in his tongue, that would corrupt integrity itself. If she has given him an opportunity, she has as good as put her integrity into his hands. Ah, dear Marwood! what's integrity to an opportunity?-Hark, I hear her!—Dear friend, retire into my closet, that I may examine her with more freedom-You'll pardon me, dear friend, I can make bold with you-There are books over the chimney-Quarles and Pryn, and the Short View of the Stage, with Bunyan's works, to entertain you— [Exit MRS MARWOOD. [Exit PEG. Go, you thing, and send her in. Enter FOIBLE. Lady Wish. O, Foible! where hast thou been? what hast thou been doing? Foi. Madam, I have seen the party. Foi. Nay, 'tis your ladyship has done, and are to do; I have only promised. But a man so enamoured!—so transported! well, if worshipping of pictures be a sin-poor sir Rowland, I say. Lady Wish, The miniature has been counted like-But hast thou not betrayed me, Foible? hast | his taylor. Yes, he shall have my niece with her thou not detected me to that faithless Mirabell? | fortune, he shall, -What hadst thou to do with him in the park? answer me, has he got nothing out of thee? Foi. So, mischief has been before-hand with me; what shall I say? [Aside.] Alas! madam, could I help it, if I met that confident thing? was I in fault? If you had heard how he used me, and all upon your ladyship's account, I'm sure you would not suspect my fidelity. Nay, if that had been the worst, I could have borne it: but he had a fling at your ladyship, too; and, then, I could not hold: but, i'faith, I gave him his own. Lady Wish. Me! what did the filthy fellow say? Foi. O, madam! 'tis a shame to say what he said-With his taunts and his fleers, tossing up his nose. Humph,' says he, what, you are a hatching some plot,' says he, you are so early abroad, or catering,' says he, ferreting for some disbanded officer, I warrant-Half-pay is but thin subsistence !-says he. 'Well, what pension does your lady propose? Let me see;' says he, what, she must come down pretty deep now; she's superannuated,' says he, and Lady Wish. Odds my life, I'll have him-I'll have him murdered! I'll have him poisoned! Where does he eat? I'll marry a drawer, to have him poisoned in his wine. Foi. Poison him! poisoning's too good for him. Starve him, madam, starve him; marry sir Rowland, and get him disinherited. O, you would bless yourself, to hear what he said. Foi. He! I hope to see him lodge in Ludgate first, and angle into Black Friars for brass farthings, with an old mitten. Lady Wish. Ay, dear Foible; thank thee for that, dear Foible. He has put me out of all patience. I shall never recompose my features, to receive sir Rowland with any oeconomy of face. The wretch has fretted me, that I am absolutely decayed. Look, Foible! Foi. Your ladyship has frowned a little too rashly, indeed, madam. The are some cracks discernible in the white varnish. Lady Wish. Let me see the glass-Cracks, say'st thou? why, I am arrantly flayed !—I look like an old peeled wall. Thou must repair me, Foible, before sir Rowland comes, or I shall never keep up to my picture. Foi. I warrant you, madam; a little art once made your picture like you; and, now, a little of the same art must make you like your picture. Your picture must sit for you, madam. Lady Wish. But art thou sure sir Rowland will not fail to come? or will he not fail, when he does come? will he be importunate, Foible? for, if he should not be importunate-I shall never break decorums-I shall die with confusion, if I am forced to advance-Oh, no! I can never advance!-I shall swoon if he should expect advances. No, I hope sir Rowland is better bred, than to put a lady to the necessity of breaking her forms. I won't be too coy, neither.-I won't give him despair—But a little disdain is not amiss; a little scorn is alluring. Foi. A little scorn becomes your ladyship. Lady Wish. A villain! superannuated! Foi. Humph,' says he, I hear you are laying designs against me, too;' says he, and Mrs Lady Wish. Yes, but tenderness becomes me Millamant is to marry my uncle;'---he does not best—A sort of a dyingness!-You see that picsuspect a word of your ladyship: but,' says he, ture has a-sort of a-Ha, Foible? a swimming'I'll fit you for that; I warrant you;' says he, 'I'llness in the eyes!-Yes, I'll look so !-My niece hamper you for that,' says he, you, and your old frippery, too,' says he, 'I'll handle you' Lady Wish. Audacious villain! handle me! would he durst?-Frippery! old frippery! Was there ever such a foul-mouthed fellow? I'll be married to-morrow; I'll be contracted to-night. Foi. The sooner the better, madam. Lady Wish. Will sir Rowland be here, say'st thou? when, Foible? Foi. Incontinently, madam. No new sheriff's wife expects the return of her husband after knighthood, with that impatience, in which sir Rowland burns for the dear hour of kissing your ladyship's hand after dinner. Lady Wish. Frippery! superannuated frippery! I'll frippery the villain; I'll reduce him to frippery and rags: A tatterdemallion-I hope to see him hung with tatters, like a Long-lane penthouse, or a gibbet thief: A slander-mouthed railer! I warrant the spendthrift prodigal is in debt as much as the million lottery, or the whole court upon a birth-day. I'll spoil his credit with affects it, but she wants features. Is sir Rowland handsome? let my toilet be removed-I'll dress above. I'll receive sir Rowland here. Is he handsome? don't answer me. I won't know: I'll be surprised; I'll be taken by surprise. Foi. By storm, madam, sir Rowland's a brisk man. Lady Wish. Is he? O, then, he'll importune, if he's a brisk man. Let my things be removed. good Foible. [Exit LADY WISHFORT. Enter MRS FAINALL. Mrs Fain. O, Foible, I have been in a fright lest I should come too late! That devil, Marwood, saw you in the park with Mirabell, and, I'm afraid, will discover it to my lady. Foi. Discover what, madam! Mrs Fain. Nay, nay, put not on that strange face. I am privy to the whole design, and know that Waitwell, to whom thou wert this morning married, is to personate Mirabell's uncle, and, as such, winning my lady, to involve her in those difficulties, from which Mirabell only must release her, by his making his conditions to have my cousin, and her fortune, left to her own disposal. Foi. O, dear madam, I beg your pardon! It was not my confidence in your ladyship, that was deficient; but, I thought the former good correspondence between your ladyship and Mr Mirabell might have hindered his communicating this secret. Mrs Fain. Dear Foible, forget that. cess. nerosity-he has not obliged me to that with those excesses of himself; and now I'll have none of him. Here comes the good lady, panting ripe; with a heart full of hope, and a head full of care, like any chemist upon the day of projection. Enter LADY WISHFORT. Lady Wish. O dear Marwood, what shall I say for this rude forgetfulness? But my dear friend is all goodness. Mrs Mar. No apologies, dear madam. I have been very well entertained. Lady Wish. As I'm a person, I am in a very chaos to think I should so forget myself-But I have such an olio of affairs, really I know not what to do [Calls.]—Foible !—I expect my nephew, sir Wilfull, every moment, too-Why, Foible-He means to travel for improvement. Foi. O, dear madain, Mr Mirabell is such a sweet winning gentleman-But your ladyship is the pattern of generosity-Sweet lady, to be so good! Mr Mirabell cannot chuse but be grateful. I find your ladyship has his heart still. Now, madam, I can safely tell your ladyship our sucMrs Marwood has told my lady; but, I warrant, I managed myself. I turned it all for the better. I told my lady that Mr Mirabell railed at her. I laid horrid things to his charge, I'll vow; and my lady is so incensed, that she'll be contracted to sir Rowland to-night, she says; Lady Wish. O, he's in less danger of being -I warrant I worked her up, that he may have spoiled by his travels-I am against my nephew's her for asking for, as they say of a Welch mai-marrying too young. It will be time enough, denhead. Mrs Fain. O rare Foible! Foi. Madam, I beg your ladyship to acquaint Mr Mirabell of his success. I would be seen as little as possible to speak to him; besides, I believe madam Marwood watches me-She has a penchant; but, I know Mr Mirabell can't abide her-Calls.]-John-remove my lady's toilet. Madam, your servant. My lady is so inpatient, I fear she'll come for me, if I stay. Mrs Fain. I'll go with you up the back-stairs, | lest I should meet her. [Exeunt. Enter MRS MARWOOD, from the closet. Mrs Mar. Indeed, Mrs Engine, is it thus with you? Are you become a go-between of this importance? Yes, I shall watch you. Why, this wench is the pass-partout, a very master-key to every body's strong-box. My friend Fainall, have you carried it so swimmingly? I thought there was something in it; but it seems it is over with you. Your loathing is not from a want of appetite, then, but from a surfeit; else you could never be so cool to fall from a principal to be an assistant: to procure for him! a pattern of generosity, that I confess. Well, Mr Fainall, you have met with your match. O man, man! woman, woman! The devil's an ass! if I were a painter, I would draw him like an idiot, a driveller, with a bib and bells. Man should have his head and horns, and woman the rest of him. Poor simple fiend! Madam Marwood has a penchant, but he can't abide her-Twere better for him you had not been his confessor in that affair, without you could have kept his counsel closer. I shall not prove another pattern of ge Mrs Mar. Methinks sir Wilfull should rather think of marrying, than travelling at his years. I hear he is turned of forty. when he comes back, and has acquired discretion to chuse for himself. Mrs Mar. Methinks Mrs Millamant and he would make a very fit match. He may travel afterwards. Tis a thing very usual with young gentlemen. Lady Wish. I promise you I have thought on't And, since 'tis your judgment, I'll think on't again. I assure you I will; I value your judgement extremely. On my word I'll propose it. [Enter FOIBLE.] Come, come, Foible-I had forgot my nephew will be here before dinner-I must make haste. Foi. Mr Witwould and Mr Petulant are come to dine with your ladyship. Lady Wish. O dear, I can't appear, till I am dressed. Dear Marwood, shall I be free with you again, and beg you to entertain them? I'll make all imaginable haste. Dear friend, excuse me. [Exeunt LADY WISHFORT and FOIBLE. Enter MRS MILLAMANT and MINCING. Mill. Sure, never any thing was so unbred as that odious man. Marwood, your servant. Mrs Mar. You have a colour; what's the matter? Mill. That horrid fellow, Petulant, has provoked me into a flame-I have broke my fanMincing, lend me yours is not all the powder out of my hair? Mrs Mar. No. What has he done? Mill. Nay, he has done nothing; he has only talked-Nay, he has said nothing, neither; but he has contradicted every thing, that has been said. For my part, I thought Witwould and he would have quarrelled. Min. I vow, mem, I thought once they would have fit. Mill. Well, 'tis a lamentable thing, I swear, that one has not the liberty of chusing one's acquaintance, as one does one's clothes. Mrs Mar. If we had that liberty, we should be as weary of one set of acquaintance, though never so good, as we are of one suit, though never so fine. A fool and a Doily stuff would now and then find days of grace, and be worn for variety. Mill. I could consent to wear them, if they I would wear alike; but fools never wear outThey are such drap-de-berry things! without one could give them to one's chambermaid, after a day or two. Mrs Mar. Twere better so, indeed. Or what think you of the play-house? A fine gay glossy fool should be given there, like a new masking habit after the masquerade is over, and we have done with the disguise. For a fool's visit is always a disguise; and never admitted by a woman of wit, but to blind her affair with a lover of sense. If you would but appear bare-faced now, and own Mirabell, you might as easily put off Petulant and Witwould, as your hood and scarf. And indeed 'tis time, for the town has found it: the secret is grown too big for the pretence. Indeed, Millamant, you can no more conceal it, than my lady Strammel can her face, that goodly face, which, in defiance of her Rhenish-wine tea, will not be comprehended in a mask. Mill. I'll take my death, Marwood, you are more censorious than a decayed beauty, or a discarded toast. Mincing, tell the men they may come up. My aunt is not dressing here; their folly is less provoking than your malice. [Exit MINCING.] The town has found it! what has it found? That Mirabell loves me, is no more a secret, than it is a secret, that you discovered it to my aunt, or than the reason why you discovered it is a secret. Mrs Mar. You are nettled. Mill. You're mistaken. Ridiculous! Mrs Mar. Indeed, my dear, you'll tear another fan, if you don't mitigate those violent airs. Mill. Oh silly! Ha, ha, ha! I could laugh immoderately. Poor Mirabell! His constancy to me has quite destroyed his complaisance for all the world beside. I swear, I never enjoined it him, to be so coy-If I had the vanity to think he would obey me, I would command him to shew more gallantry. 'Tis hardly well-bred to be so particular on one hand, and so insensible on the other. But I despair to prevail, and so let him follow his own way. Ha, ha, ha! Pardon me, dear creature, 1 must laugh, ha, ha, ha! though, I grant you, 'tis a little barbarous, ha, ha, ha! Mrs Mar. What pity 'tis, so much fine raillery, and delivered with so significant gesture, should be so unhappily directed to miscarry! VOL. II. Mill. Ha? Dear creature, I ask your pardonI swear I did not mind you. Mrs Mar. Mr Mirabell, and you both, may think a thing impossible, when I tell him, by telling you Mill. O dear! what? for 'tis the same thing, if I hear it—Ha, ha, ha ! Mrs Mar. That I detest him, hate him, madam. Mill. O madam! why, so do I-—And yet the creature loves me; ha, ha, ha! How can one forbear laughing to think of it?-I am a sybil, if I am not amazed to think what he can see in me. I'll take my death, I think you are handsomerand within a year or two as young-If you could but stay for me, I should overtake you--But that cannot be-Well, that thought makes me melancholic---Now I'll be sad. Mrs Mar. Your merry note may be changed sooner than you think. Mill. Do ye say so? Then, I'm resolved I'll have a song to keep up my spirits. Enter MINCING. Min. The gentlemen stay but to comb, madam; and will wait on you. Enter PETULANT and WITWOULD. Mill. Is your animosity composed, gentlemen? Wit. Raillery, raillery, madam; we have no animosity--We hit off a little wit now and then, but no animosity--The falling-out of wits is like the falling-out of lovers-We agree in the main, like treble and base. Ha, Petulant! Pet. Ay, in the main---But when I have a humour to contradict- Wit. Ay, when he has a humour to contradict, then I contradict, too. What, I know my cue. Then we contradict one another like two battledores; for contradictions beget one another, like Jews. Pet. If he says black's black-If I have a humour to say 'tis blue-Let that pass-All's one for that. If I have a humour to prove it, it must be granted. Wit. Not positively must-But it may--it may. Pet. Yes, it positively must, upon proof" posi tive. Wit. Ay, upon proof positive it must; but upon proof presumptive it only may. That's a logical distinction, now, madam. Mrs Mar. I perceive your debates are of importance, and very learnedly handled. Pet. Importance is one thing, and learning is another; but a debate's a debate, that I assert. Wit. Petulant's an enemy to learning; he relies altogether on his parts. Pet. No, I'm no enemy to learning; it hurts not me. Mrs Mar. That's a sign indeed 'tis no enemy to you. 2 L Pet. No, no, 'tis no enemy to any body, but them that have it. Mill. Well, an illiterate man's my aversion. I wonder at the impudence of an illiterate man, to offer to make love. Wit. That, I confess, I wonder at, too. Mill. Ah! to marry an ignorant! that can hardly read or write. Pet. Why should a man be any further from being married though he can't read, than he is from being hanged? The ordinary's paid for setting the psalm, and the parish priest for reading the ceremony. And for the rest which is to follow in both cases, a man may do it without book--So all's one for that. Mill. D'ye hear the creature? Lord, here's company! I'll be gone. [Exeunt MILLAMANT and MINCING. Enter StR WILfull Witwould, in a riding dress, and Footman. Wit. In the name of Bartholomew and his fair, what have we here? Mrs Mar. 'Tis your brother, I fancy. Don't you know him? Wit. Not I-Yes, I think it is he--I've almost forgot him; I have not seen him since the revolution. Foot. Sir, my lady's dressing. Here's company; if you please to walk in, in the mean time. Sir Wil. Dressing! What, 'tis but morning here, I warrant, with you in London; we should count it towards afternoon in our parts, down in Shropshire-Why, then, belike my aunt han't dined yet-la, friend? Foot. Your aunt, sir? Sir Wil. My aunt, sir! yes, my aunt, sir, and your lady, sir; your lady is my aunt, sir-Why, what, dost thou not now me, friend? Why, then, send somebody hither, that does. How long hast thou lived with thy lady, fellow, ha? Foot. A week, sir longer than any in the house, except my lady's woman. Sir Wil. Why, then, belike thou dost not know thy lady, if thou secst her; ha, friend? Foot. Why, truly, sir, I cannot safely swear to her face in a morning, before she is dressed. 'Tis like I may give a shrewd guess at her by this time. Sir Wil. Well, prithee, try what thou canst do; if thou canst not guess, inquire her out; dost hear, fellow? and tell her, her nephew, Sir Wilful Witwould, is in the house. Foot. I shall, sir. Sir Wil. Hold ye-hear me, friend; a word with you in your ear: Prithee, who are these gallants? Foot. Really, sir, I cannot tell; there come so many here, 'tis hard to know them all. [Exit. Sir Wil. Oons, this fellow knows less than a starling; I don't think a' knows his own name. Mrs Mar. Mr Witwould, your brother is not behind-hand in forgetfulness-I fancy he has forgot you, too. Wit. I hope so-The deuce take him, that remembers first, I say. Sir Wil. Save you, gentleman and lady. Mrs Mar. For shame, Mr Witwould! why, won't you speak to him? And you, sir. Wit. Petulant, speak. Pet. And you, sir. Sir Wil. No offence, I hope. Mrs Mar. No sure, sir. [Salutes MARWOOD. Wit. This is a vile dog, I see that already.No offence! Ha, ha, ha! to him; to him, Petulant; smoke him. Pet. It seems as if you had come a journey, sir; hem, hem. [Surveying him round. Sir Wil. Very likely, sir, that it may seem so. Pet. No offence, I hope, sir, Sir Wil. May be not, sir; thereafter as 'tis meant, sir. Wit. Smoke the boots, the boots; Petulant, the boots; ha, ha, ha! Pet. Sir, I presume upon the information of your boots. Sir Wil. Why, 'tis like you may, sir: if you are not satisfied with the information of my boots, sir, if you will step to the stable, you may inquire further of my horse, sir. Pet. Your horse, sir! your horse is an ass, sir! Sir Wil. Right, lady; I am sir Wilfull Witwould; so I write myself; no offence to any body, I hope; and nephew to the lady Wishfort of this mansion. sir? Mrs Mar. Don't you know this gentleman," Sir Wil. Hum! What, sure 'tis not-Yea, by'r lady but 'tis-'Sheart! I know not whether 'tis or no-Yea, but 'tis, by the wrekin. Brother Anthony! what Tony, i'faith! what, dost thou not know me? By'r lady nor I thee, thou art so belaced, and so beperiwigged- -'Sheart! what dost not speak? art thou o'erjoyed? Wit. 'Odso, brother, is it you? your servant, brother. Sir Wil. Your servant! why yours, sir. Your servant again-'Sheart, and your friend and servant to that-And a-(puff) and a flap-dragon for your service, sir; and a hare's foot, and a hare's scut for your service, sir; an' you be so cold and so courtly! |