epub:type="z3998:persona">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.67 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.68
Mrs. Marwood
They may prove a cap of maintenance69 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.70
Mrs. Marwood
Well, how do you stand affected towards your lady?71
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
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