Scene + 

III + 

A room in Lady Wishfort’s house. + 

Mrs. Marwood, Mrs. Millamant, and Mincing. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

Sure, never anything was so unbred as that odious man.⁠—Marwood, your servant. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

You have a colour; what’s the matter? + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

That horrid fellow Petulant has provoked me into a flame: I have broke my fan⁠—Mincing, lend me yours; is not all the powder out of my hair? + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

No. What has he done? + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

Nay, he has done nothing; he has only talked. Nay, he has said nothing neither; but he has contradicted everything that has been said. For my part, I thought Witwoud and he would have quarrelled. + 

Mincing + 

I vow, mem, I thought once they would have fit. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

Well, ’tis a lamentable thing, I swear, that one has not the liberty of choosing one’s acquaintance as one does one’s clothes. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

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. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

I could consent to wear ’em, if they would wear alike; but fools never wear out. They are such drap de Berri things! Without one could give ’em to one’s chambermaid after a day or two! + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

’Twere better so indeed. Or what think you of the playhouse? 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 barefaced now, and own Mirabell, you might as easily put off Petulant and Witwoud as your hood and scarf. And indeed ’tis time, for the town has found it, the secret is grown too big for the pretence. ’Tis like Mrs. Primly’s great belly: she may lace it down before, but it burnishes on her hips. 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. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

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. Marwood + 

You are nettled. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

You’re mistaken. Ridiculous! + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

Indeed, my dear, you’ll tear another fan, if you don’t mitigate those violent airs. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

O 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 show 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, I must laugh; ha! ha! ha! Though I grant you ’tis a little barbarous; ha! ha! ha! + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

What pity ’tis so much fine raillery, and delivered with so significant gesture, should be so unhappily directed to miscarry. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

Heh? Dear creature, I ask your pardon⁠—I swear I did not mind you. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

Mr. Mirabell and you both may think it a thing impossible, when I shall tell him by telling you⁠— + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

Oh dear, what? For it is the same thing, if I hear it⁠—ha! ha! ha! + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

That I detest him, hate him, madam. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

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 sibyl if I am not amazed to think what he can see in me. I’ll take my death, I think you are handsomer⁠—and 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. Marwood + 

Your merry note may be changed sooner than you think. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

D’ye say so? Then I’m resolved I’ll have a song to keep up my spirits. + 

Reenter Mincing. + 

Mincing + 

The gentlemen stay but to comb, madam, and will wait on you. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

Desire Mrs.⁠—that is in the next room, to sing the song I would have learnt yesterday. You shall hear it, madam. Not that there’s any great matter in it⁠—but ’tis agreeable to my humour. + 

Song + 

Love’s but the frailty of the mind + 

When ’tis not with ambition joined; + 

A sickly flame, which if not fed, expires, + 

And feeding, wastes in self-consuming fires. + 

’Tis not to wound a wanton boy + 

Or am’rous youth, that gives the joy; + 

But ’tis the glory to have pierced a swain, + 

For whom inferior beauties sighed in vain. + 

Then I alone the conquest prize, + 

When I insult a rival’s eyes; + 

If there’s delight in love, ’tis when I see + 

That heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me. + 

Enter Petulant and Witwoud. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

Is your animosity composed, gentlemen? + 

Witwoud + 

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 bass.⁠—Ha, Petulant? + 

Petulant + 

Aye, in the main. But when I have a humour to contradict⁠— + 

Witwoud + 

Aye, 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. + 

Petulant + 

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. + 

Witwoud + 

Not positively must⁠—but it may⁠—it may. + 

Petulant + 

Yes, it positively must, upon proof positive. + 

Witwoud + 

Aye, upon proof positive it must; but upon proof presumptive it only may.⁠—That’s a logical distinction now, madam. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

I perceive your debates are of importance, and very learnedly handled. + 

Petulant + 

Importance is one thing and learning’s another; but a debate’s a debate, that I assert. + 

Witwoud + 

Petulant’s an enemy to learning; he relies altogether on his parts. + 

Petulant + 

No, I’m no enemy to learning; it hurts not me. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

That’s a sign indeed it’s no enemy to you. + 

Petulant + 

No, no, it’s no enemy to anybody but them that have it. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

Well, an illiterate man’s my aversion: I wonder at the impudence of any illiterate man to offer to make love. + 

Witwoud + 

That I confess I wonder at, too. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

Ah, to marry an ignorant that can hardly read or write. + 

Petulant + 

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. + 

Mrs. Millamant + 

D’ye hear the creature?⁠—Lord, here’s company; I’ll begone. + 

Exit. + 

Enter Sir Wilfull Witwoud in a riding dress, followed by Footman. + 

Witwoud + 

In the name of Bartlemew and his fair, what have we here? + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

’Tis your brother, I fancy. Don’t you know him? + 

Witwoud + 

Not I.⁠—Yes, I think it is he⁠—I’ve almost forgot him; I have not seen him since the Revolution. + 

Footman + 

To Sir Wilful. Sir, my lady’s dressing. Here’s company, if you please to walk in, in the meantime. + 

Sir Wilful + 

Dressing! What, it’s 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, ha, friend? + 

Footman + 

Your aunt, sir? + 

Sir Wilful + 

My aunt, sir! Yes my aunt, sir, and your lady, sir; your lady is my aunt, sir.⁠—Why, what dost thou not know me, friend? Why, then, send somebody hither that does. How long hast thou lived with thy lady, fellow, ha? + 

Footman + 

A week, sir; longer than anybody in the house, except my lady’s woman. + 

Sir Wilful + 

Why, then, belike thou dost not know thy lady, if thou seest her, ha, friend? + 

Footman + 

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 Wilful + 

Well, prithee try what thou canst do; if thou canst not guess, enquire her out, dost hear, fellow? And tell her her nephew, Sir Wilfull Witwoud, is in the house. + 

Footman + 

I shall, sir. + 

Sir Wilful + 

Hold ye, hear me, friend, a word with you in your ear: prithee who are these gallants? + 

Footman + 

Really, sir, I can’t tell; here come so many here, ’tis hard to know ’em all. + 

Exit. + 

Sir Wilful + 

Oons, this fellow knows less than a starling: I don’t think a’ knows his own name. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

Mr. Witwoud, your brother is not behindhand in forgetfulness. I fancy he has forgot you too. + 

Witwoud + 

I hope so. The devil take him that remembers first, I say. + 

Sir Wilful + 

Save you, gentlemen and lady. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

For shame, Mr. Witwoud; why won’t you speak to him?⁠—And you, sir. + 

Witwoud + 

Petulant, speak. + 

Petulant + 

And you, sir. + 

Sir Wilful + 

No offence, I hope? Salutes Mrs. Marwood. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

No, sure, sir. + 

Witwoud + 

This is a vile dog, I see that already. No offence! Ha! ha! ha! To him, to him, Petulant, smoke him. + 

Petulant + 

It seems as if you had come a journey, sir; hem, hem. Surveying him round. + 

Sir Wilful + 

Very likely, sir, that it may seem so. + 

Petulant + 

No offence, I hope, sir? + 

Witwoud + 

Smoke the boots, the boots, Petulant, the boots: ha! ha! ha! + 

Sir Wilful + 

Maybe not, sir; thereafter as ’tis meant, sir. + 

Petulant + 

Sir, I presume upon the information of your boots. + 

Sir Wilful + 

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 enquire further of my horse, sir. + 

Petulant + 

Your horse, sir! Your horse is an ass, sir! + 

Sir Wilful + 

Do you speak by way of offence, sir? + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

The gentleman’s merry, that’s all, sir. Aside. ’Slife, we shall have a quarrel betwixt an horse and an ass, before they find one another out.⁠—Aloud. You must not take anything amiss from your friends, sir. You are among your friends here, though it⁠—may be you don’t know it. If I am not mistaken, you are Sir Wilfull Witwoud? + 

Sir Wilful + 

Right, lady; I am Sir Wilfull Witwoud, so I write myself; no offence to anybody, I hope; and nephew to the Lady Wishfort of this mansion. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

Don’t you know this gentleman, sir? + 

Sir Wilful + 

Hum! What, sure ’tis not⁠—yea by’r lady but ’tis⁠—s’heart, 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 becravated and so beperiwigged.⁠—S’heart, why dost not speak? Art thou o’erjoyed? + 

Witwoud + 

Odso, brother, is it you? Your servant, brother. + 

Sir Wilful + 

Your servant! Why, yours, sir. Your servant again⁠—s’heart, 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! + 

Witwoud + 

No offence, I hope, brother. + 

Sir Wilful + 

S’heart, 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? + 

Witwoud + 

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 Wilful + 

The fashion’s a fool and you’re a fop, dear brother. S’heart, 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 Pimple Nose, the attorney of Furnival’s Inn.⁠—you could intreat to be remembered then to your friends round the reckan. We could have gazettes then, and Dawks’s Letter, and the Weekly Bill, till of late days. + 

Petulant + 

’Slife, Witwoud, were you ever an attorney’s clerk? Of the family of the Furnivals? Ha! ha! ha! + 

Witwoud + 

Aye, aye, 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; aye, aye, 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 Wilful + 

S’heart, 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. Marwood + 

You intend to travel, sir, as I’m informed? + 

Sir Wilful + 

Belike I may, madam. I may chance to sail upon the salt seas, if my mind hold. + 

Petulant + 

And the wind serve. + 

Sir Wilful + 

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. Marwood + 

I thought you had designed for France at all adventures. + 

Sir Wilful + 

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, whereby to hold discourse in foreign countries. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

Here’s an academy in town for that use. + 

Sir Wilful + 

There is? ’Tis like there may. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

No doubt you will return very much improved. + 

Witwoud + 

Yes, refined like a Dutch skipper from a whale-fishing. + 

Enter Lady Wishfort and Fainall. + 

Lady Wishfort + 

Nephew, you are welcome. + 

Sir Wilful + 

Aunt, your servant. + 

Fainall + 

Sir Wilfull, your most faithful servant. + 

Sir Wilful + 

Cousin Fainall, give me your hand. + 

Lady Wishfort + 

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 Wilful + 

I’m very well, I thank you, aunt⁠—however, I thank you for your courteous offer. S’heart, 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 Wishfort + 

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 Wilful + 

Why, then, let him hold his tongue in the meantime, and rail when that day comes. + 

Enter Mincing. + 

Mincing + 

Mem, I come to acquaint your la’ship that dinner is impatient. + 

Sir Wilful + 

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 Wishfort + 

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. Marwood + 

I’ll follow you, madam⁠—before Sir Wilfull is ready. + 

Exeunt all but Mrs. Marwood and Fainall. + 

Fainall + 

Why, then, Foible’s a bawd, an errant, rank matchmaking 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 outwitted⁠—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. Marwood + 

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. + 

Fainall + 

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. Marwood + 

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. + 

Fainall + 

Hum! That may be. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

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? + 

Fainall + 

The means, the means. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

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. + 

Fainall + 

Faith, this has an appearance. + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

I’m sorry I hinted to my lady to endeavour a match between Millamant and Sir Wilfull; that may be an obstacle. + 

Fainall + 

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. Marwood + 

Well, how do you stand affected towards your lady? + 

Fainall + 

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. Marwood + 

Besides you forget, marriage is honourable. + 

Fainall + 

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. Marwood + 

Nay, I know not; if the root be honourable, why not the branches? + 

Fainall + 

So, so; why this point’s clear⁠—well, how do we proceed? + 

Mrs. Marwood + 

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. + 

Fainall + 

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. Marwood + 

I hope you are convinced that I hate Mirabell now? You’ll be no more jealous? + 

Fainall + 

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. + 

Exeunt. + 