Nor, like those peevish wits, his play maintain,
Who, to
assert their sense, your taste arraign.
Some plot we think he has, and some new thought;
Some
humour too, no farce--but that's a fault.
Satire, he thinks, you ought not to expect;
For so reformed a town who dares correct?
To please, this time, has been his sole
pretence,
He'll not
instruct, lest it should give offence.
Should he by chance a knave or fool expose,
That hurts none here, sure here are none of those.
In short, our play shall (with your leave to show it)
Give you one
instance of a
passive poet,
Who to your judgments yields all resignation:
So save or damn, after your own discretion.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MEN.
FAINALL, in love with Mrs. Marwood,--Mr. Betterton
MIRABELL, in love with Mrs. Millamant,--Mr. Verbruggen
WITWOUD,
follower of Mrs. Millamant,--Mr. Bowen
PETULANT,
follower of Mrs. Millamant,--Mr. Bowman
SIR WILFULL WITWOUD, half brother to Witwoud, and
nephew to Lady
Wishfort,--Mr. Underhill
WAITWELL, servant to Mirabell,--Mr. Bright
WOMEN.
LADY WISHFORT, enemy to Mirabell, for having falsely
pretended love
to her,--Mrs. Leigh
MRS. MILLAMANT, a fine lady, niece to Lady Wishfort, and loves
Mirabell,--Mrs. Bracegirdle
MRS. MARWOOD, friend to Mr. Fainall, and likes Mirabell,--Mrs. Barry
MRS. FAINALL, daughter to Lady Wishfort, and wife to Fainall,
formerly friend to Mirabell,--Mrs. Bowman
FOIBLE, woman to Lady Wishfort,--Mrs. Willis
MINCING, woman to Mrs. Millamant,--Mrs. Prince
DANCERS, FOOTMEN, ATTENDANTS.
SCENE: London.
The time equal to that of the p
resentation.
ACT I.--SCENE I.
A Chocolate-house.
MIRABELL and FAINALL rising from cards. BETTY waiting.
MIRA. You are a
fortunate man, Mr. Fainall.
FAIN. Have we done?
MIRA. What you please. I'll play on to
entertain you.
FAIN. No, I'll give you your
revenge another time, when you are not
so
indifferent; you are thinking of something else now, and play too
negligently: the
coldness of a losing gamester lessens the pleasure
of the
winner. I'd no more play with a man that slighted his ill
fortune than I'd make love to a woman who undervalued the loss of
her reputation.
MIRA. You have a taste
extremely
delicate, and are for refining on
your pleasures.
FAIN. Prithee, why so reserved? Something has put you out of
humour.
MIRA. Not at all: I happen to be grave to-day, and you are gay;
that's all.
FAIN. Confess, Millamant and you quarrelled last night, after I
left you; my fair cousin has some
humours that would tempt the
patience of a Stoic. What, some coxcomb came in, and was well
received by her, while you were by?
MIRA. Witwoud and Petulant, and what was worse, her aunt, your
wife's mother, my evil genius--or to sum up all in her own name, my
old Lady Wishfort came in.
FAIN. Oh, there it is then: she has a
lastingpassion for you, and
with reason.--What, then my wife was there?
MIRA. Yes, and Mrs. Marwood and three or four more, whom I never
saw before;
seeing me, they all put on their grave faces, whispered
one another, then complained aloud of the vapours, and after fell