beperiwigged. 'Sheart, why 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!
WIT. No offence, I hope, brother?
SIR WIL. 'Sheart, sir, but there is, and much offence. A pox, is
this your inns o' court
breeding, not to know your friends and your
relations, your elders, and your betters?
WIT. Why, brother Wilfull of Salop, you may be as short as a
Shrewsbury cake, if you please. But I tell you 'tis not modish to
know relations in town. You think you're in the country, where
great lubberly brothers slabber and kiss one another when they meet,
like a call of sergeants. 'Tis not the fashion here; 'tis not,
indeed, dear brother.
SIR WIL. The fashion's a fool and you're a fop, dear brother.
'Sheart, I've suspected this--by'r lady I conjectured you were a
fop, since you began to change the style of your letters, and write
in a scrap of paper gilt round the edges, no bigger than a subpoena.
I might expect this when you left off 'Honoured brother,' and
'Hoping you are in good health,' and so forth, to begin with a 'Rat
me,
knight, I'm so sick of a last night's debauch.' Ods heart, and
then tell a familiar tale of a cock and a bull, and a whore and a
bottle, and so conclude. You could write news before you were out
of your time, when you lived with honest Pumple-Nose, the attorney
of Furnival's Inn. You could intreat to be remembered then to your
friends round the Wrekin. We could have Gazettes then, and Dawks's
Letter, and the Weekly Bill, till of late days.
PET. 'Slife, Witwoud, were you ever an attorney's clerk? Of the
family of the Furnivals? Ha, ha, ha!
WIT. Ay, ay, but that was but for a while. Not long, not long;
pshaw, I was not in my own power then. An
orphan, and this fellow
was my
guardian; ay, ay, I was glad to consent to that man to come
to London. He had the
disposal of me then. If I had not agreed to
that, I might have been bound prentice to a feltmaker in Shrewsbury:
this fellow would have bound me to a maker of felts.
SIR WIL. 'Sheart, and better than to be bound to a maker of fops,
where, I suppose, you have served your time, and now you may set up
for yourself.
MRS. MAR. You intend to travel, sir, as I'm informed?
SIR WIL. Belike I may, madam. I may chance to sail upon the salt
seas, if my mind hold.
PET. And the wind serve.
SIR WIL. Serve or not serve, I shan't ask license of you, sir, nor
the weathercock your
companion. I direct my
discourse to the lady,
sir. 'Tis like my aunt may have told you, madam? Yes, I have
settled my concerns, I may say now, and am
minded to see foreign
parts. If an how that the peace holds,
whereby, that is, taxes
abate.
MRS. MAR. I thought you had designed for France at all adventures.
SIR WIL. I can't tell that; 'tis like I may, and 'tis like I may
not. I am somewhat
dainty in making a
resolution, because when I
make it I keep it. I don't stand shill I, shall I, then; if I
say't, I'll do't. But I have thoughts to tarry a small matter in
town, to learn somewhat of your lingo first, before I cross the
seas. I'd
gladly have a spice of your French as they say,
wherebyto hold
discourse in foreign countries.
MRS. MAR. Here's an
academy in town for that use.
SIR WIL. There is? 'Tis like there may.
MRS. MAR. No doubt you will return very much improved.
WIT. Yes,
refined like a Dutch
skipper from a whale-fishing.
SCENE XVI.
[To them] LADY WISHFORT and FAINALL.
LADY. Nephew, you are
welcome.
SIR WIL. Aunt, your servant.
FAIN. Sir Wilfull, your most
faithful servant.
SIR WIL. Cousin Fainall, give me your hand.
LADY. Cousin Witwoud, your servant; Mr. Petulant, your servant.
Nephew, you are
welcome again. Will you drink anything after your
journey,
nephew, before you eat? Dinner's almost ready.
SIR WIL. I'm very well, I thank you, aunt. However, I thank you
for your
courteous offer. 'Sheart, I was afraid you would have been
in the fashion too, and have remembered to have forgot your
relations. Here's your cousin Tony, belike, I mayn't call him
brother for fear of offence.
LADY. Oh, he's a rallier,
nephew. My cousin's a wit: and your
great wits always rally their best friends to choose. When you have
been
abroad,
nephew, you'll understand raillery better. [FAINALL
and MRS. MARWOOD talk apart.]
SIR WIL. Why, then, let him hold his tongue in the
meantime, and
rail when that day comes.
SCENE XVII.
[To them] MINCING.
MINC. Mem, I come to
acquaint your laship that dinner is
impatient.
SIR WIL. Impatient? Why, then, belike it won't stay till I pull
off my boots. Sweetheart, can you help me to a pair of slippers?
My man's with his horses, I warrant.
LADY. Fie, fie,
nephew, you would not pull off your boots here? Go
down into the hall:- dinner shall stay for you. My
nephew's a
little unbred: you'll
pardon him, madam. Gentlemen, will you walk?
Marwood?
MRS. MAR. I'll follow you, madam,--before Sir Wilfull is ready.
SCENE XVIII.
MRS. MARWOOD, FAINALL.
FAIN. Why, then, Foible's a bawd, an errant, rank match-making
bawd. And I, it seems, am a husband, a rank husband, and my wife a
very errant, rank wife,--all in the way of the world. 'Sdeath, to
be a cuckold by
anticipation, a cuckold in embryo! Sure I was born
with budding antlers like a young satyr, or a citizen's child,
'sdeath, to be out-witted, to be out-jilted, out-matrimonied. If I
had kept my speed like a stag, 'twere somewhat, but to crawl after,
with my horns like a snail, and be outstripped by my wife--'tis
scurvy wedlock.
MRS. MAR. Then shake it off: you have often wished for an
opportunity to part, and now you have it. But first prevent their
plot:- the half of Millamant's fortune is too
considerable to be
parted with to a foe, to Mirabell.
FAIN. Damn him, that had been mine--had you not made that fond
discovery. That had been forfeited, had they been married. My wife
had added lustre to my horns by that increase of fortune: I could
have worn 'em tipt with gold, though my
forehead had been furnished
like a deputy-lieutenant's hall.
MRS. MAR. They may prove a cap of
maintenance to you still, if you
can away with your wife. And she's no worse than when you had her:-
I dare swear she had given up her game before she was married.
FAIN. Hum! That may be -
MRS. MAR. You married her to keep you; and if you can
contrive to
have her keep you better than you expected, why should you not keep
her longer than you intended?
FAIN. The means, the means?
MRS. MAR. Discover to my lady your wife's conduct;
threaten to part
with her. My lady loves her, and will come to any
composition to
save her
reputation. Take the opportunity of breaking it just upon
the discovery of this imposture. My lady will be enraged beyond
bounds, and sacrifice niece, and fortune and all at that
conjuncture. And let me alone to keep her warm: if she should flag
in her part, I will not fail to
prompt her.
FAIN. Faith, this has an appearance.
MRS. MAR. I'm sorry I hinted to my lady to
endeavour a match
between Millamant and Sir Wilfull; that may be an obstacle.
FAIN. Oh, for that matter, leave me to manage him; I'll
disable him
for that, he will drink like a Dane. After dinner I'll set his hand
in.
MRS. MAR. Well, how do you stand
affected towards your lady?
FAIN. Why, faith, I'm thinking of it. Let me see. I am married
already; so that's over. My wife has played the jade with me; well,
that's over too. I never loved her, or if I had, why that would
have been over too by this time. Jealous of her I cannot be, for I
am certain; so there's an end of
jealousy. Weary of her I am and
shall be. No, there's no end of that; no, no, that were too much to
hope. Thus far
concerning my
repose. Now for my
reputation: as to
my own, I married not for it; so that's out of the question. And as
to my part in my wife's--why, she had parted with hers before; so,
bringing none to me, she can take none from me: 'tis against all
rule of play that I should lose to one who has not wherewithal to
stake.
MRS. MAR. Besides you forget, marriage is
honourable.
FAIN. Hum! Faith, and that's well thought on: marriage is
honourable, as you say; and if so,
wherefore should cuckoldom be a
discredit, being derived from so
honourable a root?
MRS. MAR. Nay, I know not; if the root be
honourable, why not the
branches?
FAIN. So, so; why this point's clear. Well, how do we proceed?
MRS. MAR. I will
contrive a letter which shall be delivered to my
lady at the time when that
rascal who is to act Sir Rowland is with
her. It shall come as from an unknown hand--for the less I appear
to know of the truth the better I can play the incendiary. Besides,
I would not have Foible provoked if I could help it, because, you
know, she knows some passages. Nay, I expect all will come out.
But let the mine be
sprung first, and then I care not if I am
discovered.
FAIN. If the worst come to the worst, I'll turn my wife to grass.
I have already a deed of settlement of the best part of her estate,
which I wheedled out of her, and that you shall
partake at least.
MRS. MAR. I hope you are convinced that I hate Mirabell now?
You'll be no more
jealous?
FAIN. Jealous? No, by this kiss. Let husbands be
jealous, but let
the lover still believe: or if he doubt, let it be only to endear
his pleasure, and prepare the joy that follows, when he proves his
mistress true. But let husbands' doubts
convert to endless
jealousy; or if they have
belief, let it
corrupt to
superstition and
blind
credulity. I am single and will herd no more with 'em. True,
I wear the badge, but I'll disown the order. And since I take my
leave of 'em, I care not if I leave 'em a common motto to their
common crest.
All husbands must or pain or shame endure;
The wise too
jealous are, fools too secure.
ACT IV.--SCENE I.
Scene Continues.
LADY WISHFORT and FOIBLE.
LADY. Is Sir Rowland coming, say'st thou, Foible? And are things
in order?
FOIB. Yes, madam. I have put wax-lights in the sconces, and placed
the footmen in a row in the hall, in their best liveries, with the
coachman and postillion to fill up the equipage.
LADY. Have you pulvilled the
coachman and postillion, that they may
not stink of the
stable when Sir Rowland comes by?
FOIB. Yes, madam.
LADY. And are the dancers and the music ready, that he may be
entertained in all points with
correspondence to his passion?
FOIB. All is ready, madam.
LADY. And--well--and how do I look, Foible?
FOIB. Most killing well, madam.
LADY. Well, and how shall I receive him? In what figure shall I
give his heart the first
impression? There is a great deal in the
first
impression. Shall I sit? No, I won't sit, I'll walk,--ay,
I'll walk from the door upon his entrance, and then turn full upon
him. No, that will be too sudden. I'll lie,--ay, I'll lie down.
I'll receive him in my little dressing-room; there's a couch--yes,
yes, I'll give the first
impression on a couch. I won't lie