The Way of the World William Congreve (general ebook reader TXT) 📖

a want of appetite then, but from a surfeit. Else you could never be so cool to fall from a principal to be an assistant, to procure for him! A pattern of generosity, that I confess. Well, Mr. Fainall, you have met with your match.⁠—O man, man! Woman, woman! The devil’s an ass: if I were a painter, I would draw him like an idiot, a driveller with a bib and bells. Man should have his head and horns, and woman the rest of him. Poor, simple fiend!⁠—“Madam Marwood has a month’s mind, but he can’t abide her.”⁠—’Twere better for him you had not been his confessor in that affair, without you could have kept his counsel closer. I shall not prove another pattern of generosity; he has not obliged me to that with those excesses of himself, and now I’ll have none of him. Here comes the good lady, panting ripe, with a heart full of hope, and a head full of care, like any chemist upon the day of projection.46 To her Lady Wishfort. Lady Wishfort O dear Marwood, what shall I say for this rude forgetfulness? But my dear friend is all goodness. Mrs. Marwood No apologies, dear madam. I have been very well entertained. Lady Wishfort As I’m a person, I am in a very chaos to think I should so forget myself. But I have such an olio of affairs, really I know not what to do.⁠—Foible!⁠—Calls. I expect my nephew Sir Wilfull ev’ry moment too.⁠—Why, Foible!⁠—He means to travel for improvement. Mrs. Marwood Methinks Sir Wilfull should rather think of marrying than travelling at his years. I hear he is turned of forty. Lady Wishfort Oh, he’s in less danger of being spoiled by his travels. I am against my nephew’s marrying too young. It will be time enough when he comes back, and has acquired discretion to choose for himself. Mrs. Marwood Methinks Mrs. Millamant and he would make a very fit match. He may travel afterwards. ’Tis a thing very usual with young gentlemen. Lady Wishfort I promise you I have thought on’t⁠—and since ’tis your judgment, I’ll think on’t again. I assure you I will; I value your judgment extremely. On my word, I’ll propose it. Enter Foible. Lady Wishfort Come, come, Foible⁠—I had forgot my nephew will be here before dinner⁠—I must make haste. Foible Mr. Witwoud and Mr. Petulant are come to dine with your ladyship. Lady Wishfort Oh dear, I can’t appear till I am dressed. Dear Marwood, shall I be free with you again, and beg you to entertain ’em? I’ll make all imaginable haste. Dear friend, excuse me. 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 Berri47 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.48 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 tea49 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.50 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