The Way of the World

heard something of an uncle to Mirabell, who is lately come to town, and is between him and the best part of his estate. Mirabell and he are at some distance, as my Lady Wishfort has been told; and you know she hates Mirabell worse than a quaker hates a parrot,21 or than a fishmonger hates a hard frost.22 Whether this uncle has seen Mrs. Millamant or not, I cannot say; but there were items of such a treaty being in embryo; and if it should come to life, poor Mirabell would be in some sort unfortunately fobbed, i’faith. Fainall ’Tis impossible Millamant should hearken to it. Witwoud Faith, my dear, I can’t tell; she’s a woman and a kind of a humorist. Mirabell And this is the sum of what you could collect last night? Petulant The quintessence. Maybe Witwoud knows more; he stayed longer. Besides, they never mind him; they say anything before him. Mirabell I thought you had been the greatest favourite. Petulant Aye, tête-à-tête; but not in public, because I make remarks. Mirabell You do? Petulant Aye, aye, pox, I’m malicious, man. Now he’s soft, you know, they are not in awe of him⁠—the fellow’s well bred, he’s what you call a⁠—what d’ye-call-’em⁠—a fine gentleman, but he’s silly withal. Mirabell I thank you, I know as much as my curiosity requires. Fainall, are you for the Mall?23 Fainall Aye, I’ll take a turn before dinner. Witwoud Aye, we’ll all walk in the park; the ladies talked of being there. Mirabell I thought you were obliged to watch for your brother Sir Wilfull’s arrival. Witwoud No, no, he comes to his aunt’s, my Lady Wishfort; pox on him, I shall be troubled with him too; what shall I do with the fool? Petulant Beg him for his estate, that I may beg you afterwards, and so have but one trouble with you both. Witwoud O rare Petulant! Thou art as quick as fire in a frosty morning; thou shalt to the Mall with us, and we’ll be very severe. Petulant Enough; I’m in a humour to be severe. Mirabell Are you? Pray then walk by yourselves. Let not us be accessory to your putting the ladies out of countenance with your senseless ribaldry, which you roar out aloud as often as they pass by you, and when you have made a handsome woman blush, then you think you have been severe. Petulant What, what! Then let ’em either show their innocence by not understanding what they hear, or else show their discretion by not hearing what they would not be thought to understand. Mirabell But hast not thou then sense enough to know that thou ought’st to be most ashamed thyself when thou hast put another out of countenance? Petulant Not I, by this hand⁠—I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt or ill-breeding. Mirabell I confess you ought to think so. You are in the right, that you may plead the error of your judgment in defence of your practice.

Where modesty’s ill manners, ’tis but fit
That impudence and malice pass for wit.

Exeunt.

Act II

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;24 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.25
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