SceneI

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Scene

I

St. James’s Park.

Mrs. Fainall and Mrs. Marwood.

Mrs. Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

Then it seems you dissemble an aversion to mankind only in compliance to my mother’s humour.

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

Never!

Mrs. Marwood

You hate mankind?

Mrs. Fainall

Heartily, inveterately.

Mrs. Marwood

Your husband?

Mrs. Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

Give me your hand upon it.

Mrs. Fainall

There.

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

There spoke the spirit of an Amazon, a Penthesilea.

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

How?

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

You would not make him a cuckold?

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

Why had not you as good do it?

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

Ingenious mischief! Would thou wert married to Mirabell.

Mrs. Marwood

Would I were.

Mrs. Fainall

You change colour.

Mrs. Marwood

Because I hate him.

Mrs. Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

What ails you?

Mrs. Fainall

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

Enter Fainall and Mirabell.

Mrs. Marwood

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

Mrs. Fainall

For you, for he has brought Mirabell with him.

Fainall

My dear!

Mrs. Fainall

My soul!

Fainall

You don’t look well today, child.

Mrs. Fainall

D’ye think so?

Mirabell

He is the only man that does, madam.

Mrs. Fainall

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

Fainall

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

Mrs. Fainall

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

Mirabell

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

Mrs. Fainall

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

Exeunt Mrs. Fainall and Mirabell.

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

Aye?

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

Will you not follow ’em?

Fainall

Faith, I think not,

Mrs. Marwood

Pray let us; I have a reason.

Fainall

You are not jealous?

Mrs. Marwood

Of whom?

Fainall

Of Mirabell.

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

But he, I fear, is too insensible.

Mrs. Marwood

It may be you are deceived.

Fainall

It may be so. I do not now begin to apprehend it.

Mrs. Marwood

What?

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

That I am false? What mean you?

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

You do me wrong.

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

And wherewithal can you reproach me?

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

Ha, ha, ha! yyu are my wife’s friend too.

Mrs. Marwood

Shame and ingratitude! Do you reproach me? You, you upbraid me? Have I been false to her, through strict fidelity to you, and sacrificed my friendship to keep my love inviolate? And have you the baseness to charge me with the guilt, unmindful of the merit? To you it should be meritorious that I have been vicious. And do you reflect that guilt upon me which should lie buried in your bosom?

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

Why, what will you do?

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

Frenzy!

Mrs. Marwood

By all my wrongs I’ll do’t. I’ll publish to the world the injuries you have done me, both in my fame and fortune: with both I trusted you, you bankrupt in honour, as indigent of wealth.

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

Deceit and frivolous pretence!

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

For loving you?

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

Nay, we must not part thus.

Mrs. Marwood

Let me go.

Fainall

Come, I’m sorry.

Mrs. Marwood

I care not. Let me go. Break my hands, do⁠—I’d leave ’em to get loose.

Fainall

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

Mrs. Marwood

Well, I have deserved it all.

Fainall

You know I love you.

Mrs. Marwood

Poor dissembling! Oh, that⁠—well, it is not yet⁠—

Fainall

What? What is it not? What is it not yet? It is not yet too late⁠—

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

It is, to love another.

Mrs. Marwood

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

Fainall

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

Exeunt.