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

a coach would speak with him. Fainall O brave Petulant! Three! Betty I’ll tell him. Coachman You must bring two dishes of chocolate and a glass of cinnamon water.18 Exeunt Betty and Coachman. Witwoud That should be for two fasting strumpets, and a bawd troubled with wind. Now you may know what the three are. Mirabell You are very free with your friend’s acquaintance. Witwoud Aye, aye, friendship without freedom is as dull as love without enjoyment or wine without toasting: but to tell you a secret, these are trulls whom he allows coach-hire, and something more by the week, to call on him once a day at public places. Mirabell How! Witwoud You shall see he won’t go to ’em because there’s no more company here to take notice of him. Why, this is nothing to what he used to do:⁠—before he found out this way, I have known him call for himself⁠— Fainall Call for himself? What dost thou mean? Witwoud Mean! Why he would slip you out of this chocolate-house,19 just when you had been talking to him. As soon as your back was turned⁠—whip he was gone; then trip to his lodging, clap on a hood and scarf and a mask, slap into a hackney-coach, and drive hither to the door again in a trice; where he would send in for himself; that I mean, call for himself, wait for himself, nay, and what’s more, not finding himself, sometimes leave a letter for himself. Mirabell I confess this is something extraordinary. I believe he waits for himself now, he is so long a coming; oh, I ask his pardon. Enter Petulant and Betty. Betty Sir, the coach stays. Petulant Well, well, I come. ’Sbud, a man had as good be a professed midwife as a professed whoremaster, at this rate! To be knocked up and raised at all hours, and in all places. Pox on ’em, I won’t come.⁠—D’ye hear, tell ’em I won’t come.⁠—Let ’em snivel and cry their hearts out. Fainall You are very cruel, Petulant. Petulant All’s one, let it pass. I have a humour to be cruel. Mirabell I hope they are not persons of condition that you use at this rate. Petulant Condition? Condition’s a dried fig, if I am not in humour. By this hand, if they were your⁠—a⁠—a⁠—your what-d’ye-call-’ems themselves, they must wait or rub off, if I want appetite. Mirabell What-d’ye-call-’ems! What are they, Witwoud? Witwoud Empresses, my dear. By your what-d’ye-call-’ems he means sultana queens. Petulant Aye, Roxolanas. Mirabell Cry you mercy. Fainall Witwoud says they are⁠— Petulant What does he say th’are? Witwoud I? Fine ladies, I say. Petulant Pass on, Witwoud. Harkee, by this light, his relations: two co-heiresses his cousins, and an old aunt, who loves caterwauling better than a conventicle. Witwoud Ha, ha, ha! I had a mind to see how the rogue would come off. Ha, ha, ha! Gad, I can’t be angry with him, if he had said they were my mother and my sisters. Mirabell No? Witwoud No; the rogue’s wit and readiness of invention charm me, dear Petulant. Betty They are gone, sir, in great anger. Petulant Enough, let ’em trundle. Anger helps complexion, saves paint. Fainall This continence is all dissembled; this is in order to have something to brag of the next time he makes court to Millamant, and swear he has abandoned the whole sex for her sake. Mirabell Have you not left off your impudent pretensions there yet? I shall cut your throat, sometime or other, Petulant, about that business. Petulant Aye, aye, let that pass. There are other throats to be cut. Mirabell Meaning mine, sir? Petulant Not I⁠—I mean nobody⁠—I know nothing. But there are uncles and nephews in the world⁠—and they may be rivals. What then? All’s one for that. Mirabell How? Harkee, Petulant, come hither⁠—explain, or I shall call your interpreter. Petulant Explain? I know nothing. Why, you have an uncle, have you not, lately come to town, and lodges by my Lady Wishfort’s? Mirabell True. Petulant Why, that’s enough⁠—you and he are not friends; and if he should marry and have a child, yon may be disinherited, ha? Mirabell Where hast thou stumbled upon all this truth? Petulant All’s one for that; why, then, say I know something. Mirabell Come, thou art an honest fellow, Petulant, and shalt make love to my mistress, thou shalt, faith. What hast thou heard of my uncle? Petulant I? Nothing, I. If throats are to be cut, let swords clash. Snug’s the word; I shrug and am silent. Mirabell Oh, raillery, raillery! Come, I know thou art in the women’s secrets.⁠—What, you’re a cabalist; I know you stayed at Millamant’s last night after I went. Was there any mention made of my uncle or me? Tell me; if thou hadst but good nature equal to thy wit, Petulant, Tony Witwoud, who is now thy competitor in fame, would show as dim by thee as a dead whiting’s eye by a pearl of orient; he would no more be seen by thee than Mercury is by the sun: come, I’m sure thou wo’t tell me.20 Petulant If I do, will you grant me common sense, then, for the future? Mirabell Faith, I’ll do what I can for thee, and I’ll pray that Heavan may grant it thee in the meantime. Petulant Well, hark’ee. Mirabell and Petulant talk apart. Fainall Petulant and you both will find Mirabell as warm a rival as a lover. Witwoud Pshaw, pshaw, that she laughs at Petulant is plain. And for my part, but that it is almost a fashion to admire her, I should⁠—hark’ee⁠—to tell you a secret, but let it go no further between friends, I shall never break my heart for her. Fainall How! Witwoud She’s handsome; but she’s a sort of an uncertain woman. Fainall I thought you had died for her. Witwoud Umh⁠—no⁠— Fainall She has wit. Witwoud ’Tis what she will hardly allow anybody else. Now, demme, I should hate that, if she were as handsome as Cleopatra. Mirabell is not so sure of her as he thinks for. Fainall Why do you think so? Witwoud We stayed pretty late there last night, and