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 neither, but loll and lean upon one elbow, with one foot a little dangling off, jogging in a thoughtful way. Yes; and then as soon as he appears, start, ay, start and be surprised, and rise to meet him in a pretty disorder. Yes; oh, nothing is more alluring than a levee from a couch in some confusion. It shows the foot to advantage, and furnishes with blushes and recomposing airs beyond comparison. Hark! There's a coach.
FOIB. 'Tis he, madam.
LADY. Oh dear, has my nephew made his addresses to Millamant? I ordered him.
FOIB. Sir Wilfull is set in to drinking, madam, in the parlour.
LADY . Ods my life, I'll send him to her. Call her down, Foible; bring her hither. I'll send him as I go. When they are together, then come to me, Foible, that I may not be too long alone with Sir Rowland.
SCENE II.
MRS. MILLAMANT, MRS. FAINALL, FOIBLE.
FOIB . Madam, I stayed here to tell your ladyship that Mr. Mirabell has waited this half hour for an opportunity to talk with you; though my lady's orders were to leave you and Sir Wilfull together. Shall I tell Mr. Mirabell that you are at leisure?
MILLA. No. What would the dear man have? I am thoughtful and would amuse myself; bid him come another time.
There never yet was woman made, Nor shall, but to be cursed. [Repeating and walking about.]
That's hard!
MRS. FAIN. You are very fond of Sir John Suckling to-day, Millamant, and the poets.
MILLA. He? Ay, and filthy verses. So I am.
FOIB. Sir Wilfull is coming, madam. Shall I send Mr. Mirabell away?
MILLA. Ay, if you please, Foible, send him away, or send him hither, just as you will, dear Foible. I think I'll see him. Shall I? Ay, let the wretch come.
Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train. [Repeating]
Dear Fainall, entertain Sir Wilfull:- thou hast philosophy to undergo a fool; thou art married and hast patience. I would confer with my own thoughts.
MRS. FAIN. I am obliged to you that you would make me your proxy in this affair, but I have business of my own.
SCENE III.
[To them] SIR WILFULL.
MRS. FAIN. O Sir Wilfull, you are come at the critical instant. There's your mistress up to the ears in love and contemplation; pursue your point, now or never.
SIR WIL . Yes, my aunt will have it so. I would gladly have been encouraged with a bottle or two, because I'm somewhat wary at first, before I am acquainted. [This while MILLAMANT walks about repeating to herself.] But I hope, after a time, I shall break my mind--that is, upon further acquaintance.--So for the present, cousin, I'll take my leave. If so be you'll be so kind to make my excuse, I'll return to my company -
MRS. FAIN. Oh, fie, Sir Wilfull! What, you must not be daunted.
SIR WIL . Daunted? No, that's not it; it is not so much for that-- for if so be that I set on't I'll do't. But only for the present, 'tis sufficient till further acquaintance, that's all--your servant.
MRS. FAIN. Nay, I'll swear you shall never lose so favourable an opportunity, if I can help it. I'll leave you together and lock the door.
SCENE IV.
SIR WILFULL, MILLAMANT.
SIR WIL . Nay, nay, cousin. I have forgot my gloves. What d'ye do? 'Sheart, a has locked the door indeed, I think.--Nay, cousin Fainall, open the door. Pshaw, what a vixen trick is this? Nay, now a has seen me too.--Cousin, I made bold to pass through as it were--I think this door's enchanted.
MILLA. [repeating]:-
I prithee spare me, gentle boy, Press me no more for that slight toy.
SIR WIL. Anan? Cousin, your servant.
MILLA. That foolish trifle of a heart - Sir Wilfull!
SIR WIL. Yes--your servant. No offence, I hope, cousin?
MILLA . [repeating]:–
I swear it will not do its part,
Though thou dost thine, employ'st thy power and art.
Natural, easy Suckling!
SIR WIL. Anan? Suckling? No such suckling neither, cousin, nor stripling: I thank heaven I'm no minor.
MILLA. Ah, rustic, ruder than Gothic.
SIR WIL. Well, well, I shall understand your lingo one of these days, cousin; in the meanwhile I must answer in plain English.
MILLA. Have you any business with me, Sir Wilfull?
SIR WIL . Not at present, cousin. Yes, I made bold to see, to come and know if that how you were disposed to fetch a walk this evening; if so be that I might not be troublesome, I would have sought a walk with you.
MILLA. A walk? What then?
SIR WIL. Nay, nothing. Only for the walk's sake, that's all.
MILLA. I nauseate walking: 'tis a country diversion; I loathe the country and everything that relates to it.
SIR WIL. Indeed! Hah! Look ye, look ye, you do? Nay, 'tis like you may. Here are choice of pastimes here in town, as plays and the like, that must be confessed indeed -
MILLA. Ah, L'ETOURDI! I hate the town too.
SIR WIL . Dear heart, that's much. Hah! that you should hate 'em both! Hah! 'tis like you may! There are some can't relish the town, and others can't away with the country, 'tis like you may be one of those, cousin.
MILLA. Ha, ha, ha! Yes, 'tis like I may. You have nothing further to say to me?
SIR WIL . Not at present, cousin. 'Tis like when I have an opportunity to be more private--I may break my mind in some measure- -I conjecture you partly guess. However, that's as time shall try. But spare to speak and spare to speed, as they say.
MILLA . If it is of no great importance, Sir Wilfull, you will oblige me to leave me: I have just now a little business.
SIR WIL. Enough, enough, cousin. Yes, yes, all a case. When you're disposed, when you're disposed. Now's as well as another time; and another time as well as now. All's one for that. Yes, yes; if your concerns call you, there's no haste: it will keep cold as they say. Cousin, your servant. I think this door's locked.
MILLA. You may go this way, sir.
SIR WIL. Your servant; then with your leave I'll return to my company.
MILLA. Ay, ay; ha, ha, ha!
Like Phoebus sung the no less am'rous boy.
SCENE V.
MRS. MILLAMANT, MIRABELL.
MIRA. Like Daphne she, as lovely and as coy.
Do you lock yourself up from me, to make my search more curious? Or is this pretty artifice contrived, to signify that here the chase must end, and my pursuit be crowned, for you can fly no further?
MILLA . Vanity! No--I'll fly and be followed to the last moment; though I am upon the very verge of matrimony, I expect you should solicit me as much as if I were wavering at the grate of a monastery, with one foot over the threshold. I'll be solicited to the very last; nay, and afterwards.
MIRA. What, after the last?
MILLA. Oh, I should think I was poor and had nothing to bestow if I were reduced to an inglorious ease, and freed from the agreeable fatigues of solicitation.
MIRA . But do not you know that when favours are conferred upon instant and tedious solicitation, that they diminish in their value, and that both the giver loses the grace, and the receiver lessens his pleasure?
MILLA . It may be in things of common application, but never, sure, in love. Oh, I hate a lover that can dare to think he draws a moment's air independent on the bounty of his mistress. There is not so impudent a thing in nature as the saucy look of an assured man confident of success: the pedantic arrogance of a very husband has not so pragmatical an air. Ah, I'll never marry, unless I am first made sure of my will and pleasure. MIRA. Would you have 'em both before marriage? Or will you be contented with the first now, and stay for the other till after grace?
MILLA . Ah, don't be impertinent. My dear liberty, shall I leave thee? My faithful solitude, my darling contemplation, must I bid you then adieu? Ay-h, adieu. My morning thoughts, agreeable wakings, indolent slumbers, all ye DOUCEURS, ye SOMMEILS DU MATIN, adieu. I can't do't, 'tis more than impossible--positively, Mirabell, I'll lie a-bed in a morning as long as I please.
MI RA. Then I'll get up in a morning as early as I please.
MILLA. Ah! Idle creature, get up when you will. And d'ye hear, I won't be called names after I'm married; positively I won't be called names.
MIRA. Names?
MILLA . Ay, as wife, spouse, my dear, joy, jewel, love, sweet-heart, and the rest of that nauseous cant, in which men and their wives are so fulsomely familiar--I shall never bear that. Good Mirabell, don't let us be familiar or fond, nor kiss before folks, like my Lady Fadler and Sir Francis; nor go to Hyde Park together the first Sunday in a new chariot, to provoke eyes and whispers, and then never be seen there together again, as if we were proud of one another the first week, and ashamed of one another ever after. Let us never visit together, nor go to a play together, but let us be very strange and well-bred. Let us be as strange as if we had been married a great while, and as well-bred as if we were not married at all.
MIRA. Have you any more conditions to offer? Hitherto your demands are pretty reasonable.
MILLA . Trifles; as liberty to pay and receive visits to and from whom I please; to write and receive letters, without interrogatories or wry faces on your part; to wear what I please, and choose conversation with regard only to my own taste; to have no obligation upon me to converse with wits that I don't like, because they are your acquaintance, or to be intimate with fools, because they may be your relations. Come to dinner when I please, dine in my dressing- room when I'm out of humour, without giving a reason. To have my closet inviolate; to be sole empress of my tea-table, which you must never presume to approach without first asking leave. And lastly, wherever I am, you shall always knock at the door before you come in. These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into a wife.
MIRA . Your bill of fare is something advanced in this latter account. Well, have I liberty to offer conditions:- that when you are dwindled into a wife, I may not be beyond measure enlarged into a husband?
MILLA. You have free leave: propose your utmost, speak and spare not.
MIRA . I thank you. IMPRIMIS, then, I covenant that your acquaintance be general; that you admit no sworn confidant or intimate of your own sex; no she friend to screen her affairs under your countenance, and tempt you to make trial of a mutual secrecy. No decoy-duck to wheedle you a FOP-SCRAMBLING to the play in a mask, then bring you home in a pretended fright, when you think you shall be found out, and rail at me for missing the play, and disappointing the frolic which you had to pick me up and prove my constancy.
MILLA. Detestable IMPRIMIS! I go to the play in a mask!
MIRA . ITEM, I article, that you continue to like your own face as long as I shall, and while it passes current with me, that you endeavour not to new coin it. To which end, together with all vizards for the day, I prohibit all masks for the night, made of oiled skins and I know not what--hog's bones, hare's gall, pig water, and the marrow of a roasted cat. In short, I forbid all commerce with the gentlewomen in what-d'ye-call-it court. ITEM, I shut my doors against all bawds with baskets, and pennyworths of muslin, china, fans, atlases, etc. ITEM, when you shall be breeding -
MILLA. Ah, name it not!
MIRA. Which may be presumed, with a blessing on our endeavours -
MILLA. Odious endeavours!
MIRA . I denounce against all strait lacing, squeezing for a shape, till you mould my boy's head like a sugar-loaf, and instead of a man-child, make me father to a crooked billet. Lastly, to the dominion of the tea-table I submit; but with proviso, that you exceed not in your province, but restrain yourself to native and simple tea-table drinks, as tea, chocolate, and coffee. As likewise to genuine and authorised tea-table talk, such as mending of fashions, spoiling reputations, railing at absent friends, and so forth. But that on no account you encroach upon the men's prerogative, and presume to drink healths, or toast fellows; for prevention of which, I banish all foreign forces, all auxiliaries to the tea-table, as orange-brandy, all aniseed, cinnamon, citron, and Barbadoes waters, together with ratafia and the most noble spirit of clary. But for cowslip-wine, poppy-water, and all dormitives, those I allow. These provisos admitted, in other things I may prove a tractable and complying husband.
MILLA . Oh, horrid provisos! Filthy strong waters! I toast fellows, odious men! I hate your odious provisos.
MIRA. Then we're agreed. Shall I kiss your hand upon the contract? And here comes one to be a witness to the sealing of the deed.
SCENE VI.
[To them] MRS. FAINALL.
MILLA. Fainall, what shall I do? Shall I have him? I think I must have him.
MRS. FAIN. Ay, ay, take him, take him, what should you do?
MILLA. Well then--I'll take my death I'm in a horrid fright-- Fainall, I shall never say it. Well--I think--I'll endure you.
MRS. FAIN. Fie, fie, have him, and tell him so in plain terms: for I am sure you have a mind to him.
MILLA . Are you? I think I have; and the horrid man looks as if he thought so too. Well, you ridiculous thing you, I'll have you. I won't be kissed, nor I won't be thanked.--Here, kiss my hand though, so hold your tongue now; don't say a word.
MRS. FAIN . Mirabell, there's a necessity for your obedience: you have neither time to talk nor stay. My mother is coming; and in my conscience if she should see you, would fall into fits, and maybe not recover time enough to return to Sir Rowland, who, as Foible tells me, is in a fair way to succeed. Therefore spare your ecstasies for another occasion, and slip down the back stairs, where Foible waits to consult you.
MILLA. Ay, go, go. In the meantime I suppose you have said something to please me.
MIRA. I am all obedience.
SCENE VII.
MRS. MILLAMANT, MRS. FAINALL.
MRS. FAIN. Yonder Sir Wilfull's drunk, and so noisy that my mother has been forced to leave Sir Rowland to appease him; but he answers her only with singing and drinking. What they may have done by this time I know not, but Petulant and he were upon quarrelling as I came by.
MILLA . Well, if Mirabell should not make a good husband, I am a lost thing: for I find I love him violently.
MRS. FAIN. So it seems; for you mind not what's said to you. If you doubt him, you had best take up with Sir Wilfull.
MILLA. How can you name that superannuated lubber? Foh!
SCENE VIII.
[To them] WITWOUD from drinking.
MRS. FAIN. So, is the fray made up that you have left 'em?
WIT . Left 'em? I could stay no longer. I have laughed like ten Christ'nings. I am tipsy with laughing--if I had stayed any longer I should have burst,--I must have been let out and pieced in the sides like an unsized camlet. Yes, yes, the fray is composed; my lady came in like a NOLI PROSEQUI, and stopt the proceedings.
MILLA. What was the dispute?
WIT. That's the jest: there was no dispute. They could neither of 'em speak for rage; and so fell a sputt'ring at one another like two roasting apples.
SCENE IX.
[To them] PETULANT drunk.
WIT. Now, Petulant? All's over, all's well? Gad, my head begins to whim it about. Why dost thou not speak? Thou art both as drunk and as mute as a fish.
PET. Look you, Mrs. Millamant, if you can love me, dear Nymph, say it, and that's the conclusion--pass on, or pass off--that's all.
WIT. Thou hast uttered volumes, folios, in less than decimo sexto, my dear Lacedemonian. Sirrah, Petulant, thou art an epitomiser of words.
PET. Witwoud,--you are an annihilator of sense.
WIT. Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of remnants, like a maker of pincushions; thou art in truth (metaphorically speaking) a speaker of shorthand.
PET. Thou art (without a figure) just one half of an ass, and Baldwin yonder, thy halfbrother, is the rest. A Gemini of asses split would make just four of you.
WIT . Thou dost bite, my dear mustard-seed; kiss me for that.
PET. Stand off--I'll kiss no more males--I have kissed your Twin yonder in a humour of reconciliation till he [hiccup] rises upon my stomach like a radish.
MILLA. Eh! filthy creature; what was the quarrel?
PET. There was no quarrel; there might have been a quarrel.
WIT. If there had been words enow between 'em to have expressed provocation, they had gone together by the ears like a pair of castanets.
PET. You were the quarrel.
MILLA. Me?
PET . If I have a humour to quarrel, I can make less matters conclude premises. If you are not handsome, what then? If I have a humour to prove it? If I shall have my reward, say so; if not, fight for your face the next time yourself--I'll go sleep.
WIT. Do, wrap thyself up like a woodlouse, and dream revenge. And, hear me, if thou canst learn to write by to-morrow morning, pen me a challenge. I'll carry it for thee.
PET. Carry your mistress's monkey a spider; go flea dogs and read romances. I'll go to bed to my maid.
MRS. FAIN. He's horridly drunk--how came you all in this pickle?
WIT. A plot, a plot, to get rid of the knight--your husband's advice; but he sneaked off.
SCENE X.
SIR WILFULL, drunk, LADY WISHFORT, WITWOUD, MRS. MILLAMANT, MRS. FAINALL.
LADY. Out upon't, out upon't, at years of discretion, and comport yourself at this rantipole rate!
SIR WIL. No offence, aunt.
LADY. Offence? As I'm a person, I'm ashamed of you. Fogh! How you stink of wine! D'ye think my niece will ever endure such a Borachio? You're an absolute Borachio.
SIR WIL . Borachio? LADY. At a time when you should commence an amour, and put your best foot foremost -
SIR WIL. 'Sheart, an you grutch me your liquor, make a bill.--Give me more drink, and take my purse. [Sings]:-
Prithee fill me the glass,
Till it laugh in my face,
With ale that is potent and mellow;
He that whines for a lass
Is an ignorant ass,
For a bumper has not its fellow.
But if you would have me marry my cousin, say the word, and I'll do't. Wilfull will do't, that's the word. Wilfull will do't, that's my crest,--my motto I have forgot.
LADY. My nephew's a little overtaken, cousin, but 'tis drinking your health. O' my word, you are obliged to him -
SIR WIL . IN VINO VERITAS, aunt. If I drunk your health to-day, cousin,--I am a Borachio.--But if you have a mind to be married, say the word and send for the piper; Wilfull will do't. If not, dust it away, and let's have t'other round. Tony--ods-heart, where's Tony?- -Tony's an honest fellow, but he spits after a bumper, and that's a fault.
We'll drink and we'll never ha' done, boys,
Put the glass then around with the sun, boys,
Let Apollo's example invite us;
For he's drunk every night,
And that makes him so bright,
That he's able next morning to light us.
The sun's a good pimple, an honest soaker, he has a cellar at your antipodes. If I travel, aunt, I touch at your antipodes--your antipodes are a good rascally sort of topsy-turvy fellows. If I had a bumper I'd stand upon my head and drink a health to 'em. A match or no match, cousin with the hard name; aunt, Wilfull will do't. If she has her maidenhead let her look to 't; if she has not, let her keep her own counsel in the meantime, and cry out at the nine months' end.
MILLA. Your pardon, madam, I can stay no longer. Sir Wilfull grows very powerful. Egh! how he smells! I shall be overcome if I stay. Come, cousin.
SCENE XI.
LADY WISHFORT, SIR WILFULL WITWOUD, MR. WITWOUD, FOIBLE.
LADY . Smells? He would poison a tallow-chandler and his family. Beastly creature, I know not what to do with him. Travel, quotha; ay, travel, travel, get thee gone, get thee but far enough, to the Saracens, or the Tartars, or the Turks--for thou art not fit to live in a Christian commonwealth, thou beastly pagan.
SIR WIL . Turks? No; no Turks, aunt. Your Turks are infidels, and believe not in the grape. Your Mahometan, your Mussulman is a dry stinkard. No offence, aunt. My map says that your Turk is not so honest a man as your Christian--I cannot find by the map that your Mufti is orthodox, whereby it is a plain case that orthodox is a hard word, aunt, and [hiccup] Greek for claret. [Sings]:-
To drink is a Christian diversion,
Unknown to the Turk or the Persian.
Let Mahometan fools
Live by heathenish rules,
And be damned over tea-cups and coffee.
But let British lads sing,
Crown a health to the King,
And a fig for your Sultan and Sophy.
LADY . Sir Rowland impatient? Good lack! what shall I do with this beastly tumbril? Go lie down and sleep, you sot, or as I'm a person, I'll have you bastinadoed with broomsticks. Call up the wenches with broomsticks.
SIR WIL. Ahey! Wenches? Where are the wenches?
LADY . Dear Cousin Witwoud, get him away, and you will bind me to you inviolably. I have an affair of moment that invades me with some precipitation.--You will oblige me to all futurity.
WIT. Come, knight. Pox on him, I don't know what to say to him. Will you go to a cockmatch?
SIR WIL. With a wench, Tony? Is she a shake-bag, sirrah? Let me bite your cheek for that.
WIT . Horrible! He has a breath like a bagpipe. Ay, ay; come, will you march, my Salopian?
SIR WIL. Lead on, little Tony. I'll follow thee, my Anthony, my Tantony. Sirrah, thou shalt be my Tantony, and I'll be thy pig.
And a fig for your Sultan and Sophy.
LADY. This will never do. It will never make a match,--at least before he has been abroad.
SCENE XII.
LADY WISHFORT, WAITWELL disguised as for SIR ROWLAND.
LADY . Dear Sir Rowland, I am confounded with confusion at the retrospection of my own rudeness,--I have more pardons to ask than the pope distributes in the year of jubilee. But I hope where there is likely to be so near an alliance, we may unbend the severity of decorum, and dispense with a little ceremony.
WAIT . My impatience, madam, is the effect of my transport; and till I have the possession of your adorable person, I am tantalised on the rack, and do but hang, madam, on the tenter of expectation.
LADY. You have excess of gallantry, Sir Rowland, and press things to a conclusion with a most prevailing vehemence. But a day or two for decency of marriage -
WAIT . For decency of funeral, madam! The delay will break my heart--or if that should fail, I shall be poisoned. My nephew will get an inkling of my designs and poison me-and I would willingly starve him before I die--I would gladly go out of the world with that satisfaction. That would be some comfort to me, if I could but live so long as to be revenged on that unnatural viper.
LADY . Is he so unnatural, say you? Truly I would contribute much both to the saving of your life and the accomplishment of your revenge. Not that I respect myself; though he has been a perfidious wretch to me.
WAIT. Perfidious to you?
LADY . O Sir Rowland, the hours that he has died away at my feet, the tears that he has shed, the oaths that he has sworn, the palpitations that he has felt, the trances and the tremblings, the ardours and the ecstasies, the kneelings and the risings, the heart- heavings and the hand-gripings, the pangs and the pathetic regards of his protesting eyes!--Oh, no memory can register.
WAIT. What, my rival? Is the rebel my rival? A dies.
LADY. No, don't kill him at once, Sir Rowland: starve him gradually, inch by inch.
WAIT . I'll do't. In three weeks he shall be barefoot; in a month out at knees with begging an alms; he shall starve upward and upward, 'till he has nothing living but his head, and then go out in a stink like a candle's end upon a save-all.
LADY . Well, Sir Rowland, you have the way,--you are no novice in the labyrinth of love,--you have the clue. But as I am a person, Sir Rowland, you must not attribute my yielding to any sinister appetite or indigestion of widowhood; nor impute my complacency to any lethargy of continence. I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials?
WAIT. Far be it from me -
LADY . If you do, I protest I must recede, or think that I have made a prostitution of decorums, but in the vehemence of compassion, and to save the life of a person of so much importance -
WAIT. I esteem it so -
LADY. Or else you wrong my condescension -
WAIT. I do not, I do not -
LADY. Indeed you do.
WAIT. I do not, fair shrine of virtue.
LADY. If you think the least scruple of causality was an ingredient -
WAIT<