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-Sir Wilfull!

Mil. Aye, aye; ha, ha, ha!

Like Phabus sung the no less am'rous boy.

Enter MIRABELL.

Mira. Like Daphne she, as lovely and as coy.

Sir Wil. Yes-your servant. No offence, I Do you lock yourself up from me, to make my

hope, cousin.

Mill. [Repeating.]

I swear it will not do its part,

search more curious? Or is this pretty artifice contrived, to signify that here the chase must end, and my pursuit be crowned, for you can fly

Though thou dost thine, employ'st thy power no further? and art.

Natural, easy Suckling!

Sir Wil. Anan! Suckling! No such suckling, neither, cousin, nor stripling; I thank Heaven, I'm no minor.

Mill. Ah, rustic! ruder than Gothic!

Sir Wil. Well, well, I shall understand your lingo one of these days, cousin; in the mean while, I must answer in plain English.

Mill. Vanity! No---I'll fly, and be followed to the last moment; though I am upon the very verge of matrimony, I expect you should solicit me as much, as if I were wavering at the grate of a monastery, with one foot over the threshold. I'll be solicited to the very last, nay, and afterwards.

Mira. What, after the last?

Mill. Oh! I should think I was poor, and had

Mill. Have you any business with me, sir Wil-nothing to bestow, if I were reduced to an inglofull? rious ease, and freed from the agreeable fatigues of solicitation.

Sir Wil. Not at present, cousin. Yes, I made bold to see, to come and know if that how you were disposed to fetch a walk this evening; if so be, that I might not be troublesome, I would have sought a walk with you.

Mill. A walk? what then?

Sir Wil. Nay, nothing-only for the walk's sake, that's all

Mill. I nauseate walking; 'tis a country diversion; I loath the country, and every thing that relates to it.

Sir Wil. Indeed! ha! look ye, look ye, you do? nay' tis like you may-here are choice of pastimes here, in town, as plays, and the like; that must be confessed, indeed.

Mill. Ah l'étourdie! I hate the town, too. Sir Wil. Dear heart, that's much-ha! that you should hate them both! ha! 'tis like you may; there are some can't relish the town, and others can't away with the country-'tis like you may be one of those, cousin.

Mill. Ha, ha, ha! Yes, 'tis like I may. You have nothing further to say to me?

Sir Wil. Not at present, cousin. 'Tis like, when I have an opportunity to be more private, I may break my mind in some measure-I conjecture you partly guess however, that's as time shall try--but spare to speak, and spare to speed, as

they say.

Mill. If it is of no great importance, sir Wilfull, you will oblige me by leaving me. I have, just now, a little business

Sir Wil. Enough, enough, cousin; yes, yes, all a case---when you're disposed. Now's as well as another time; and another time as well as now. All's one for that---yes, yes, if your concerns call you, there's no haste; it will keep cold, as they say--cousin, your servant. I think this door's locked.

Mill. You may go this way, sir.

Sir Wil. Your servant, then; with your leave I'll return to my company. [Exit SIR WILFULL.

Mira. But do you not know, when favours are conferred upon instant and tedious solicitation, that they diminish in their value, and that both the giver loses the grace, and the receiver lessens his pleasure.

Mill. It may be in things of common application; but never, sure, in love. Oh! I hate a lover, that can dare to think he draws a moment's air, independent on the bounty of his mistress. There is not so impudent a thing in nature, as the saucy look of an assured man, confident of success. The pedantic arrogance of a very husband has not so pragmatical an air. Ah! I'll never marry, unless I am first made sure of my will and pleasure.

Mira. Would you have them both before marriage? Or will you be acquainted with only the first, now?

Mill. Ah! don't be impertinent-my dear liberty, shall I leave thee? my faithful solitude, my darling contemplation, must I bid you, then, adieu ? aye, adieu-my morning thoughts, agreeable wakings, indolent slumbers, ye douceurs, ye sommeils du matin, adieu-I can't do it; 'tis more than impossible-positively, Mirabell, I'll lie a-bed in a morning, as long as I please.

Mira. Then I'll get up in a morning as early as I please.

Mill. Ah! idle creature, get up when you will ---and, d'ye hear, I won't be called names, after I am married; positively, I won't be called

names.

Mira. Names!

Mill. Aye, as wife, spouse, my dear, joy, jewel, love, sweetheart, and the rest of that nauseous cant, in which men and their wives are so fulsomely familiar---I shall never bear that good Mirabell, don't let us be familiar or fond, nor kiss before folks, like my lady Fadler and sir Francis: nor go in public, together, the first Sunday, in a new chariot, to provoke eyes and whis

pers; and then never be seen there together again; as if we were proud of one another the first week, and ashamed of one another ever after. Let us never visit together, nor go to a play together, but let us be very strange and well-bred: let us be as strange as if we had been married a great while; aud as well-bred, as if we were not married at all.

Mira. Have you any more conditions to offer? hitherto, your demands are very reasonable.

:

Mill. Trifles-as liberty to pay and receive visits to and from whom I please; to write and receive letters, without interrogatories or wry faces on your part; to wear what I please; and choose conversation with regard only to my own taste; to have no obligation upon me to converse with wits, that I don't like, because they are your acquaintance; or to be intimate with fools, because they may be your relations come to dinner, when I please; dine in my dressing-room, when I'm out of humour, without giving a reason: to have my closet inviolate; to be sole empress of my tea-table, which you must never presume to approach without first asking leave: and, lastly, wherever I am, you shall always knock at the door, before you come in. These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may, by degrees, dwindle into a wife.

Mira. Your bill of fare is something advanced in this latter account. Well, have I liberty to offer conditions-that when you are dwindled into a wife, I may not be beyond measure enlarged into a husband?

Mill. You have free leave; propose your utmost; speak, and spare not.

squeezing for a shape, till you mould my boy's head like a sugar-loaf! and, instead of a manchild, make me father to a crooked-billet. Lastly, to the dominion of the tea-table I submit-But with proviso, that you exceed not in your pro vince, but restrain yourself to native and simple tea-table drinks-as tea, chocolate, and coffee. As likewise to genuine and authorised tea-table talk-such as mending of fashions, spoiling reputations, railing at absent friends, and so forthBut that, on no account, you encroach upon the men's prerogative, and presume to drink healths, or toast fellows; for prevention of which, I banish all foreign forces, all auxiliaries to the teatable-as orange-brandy, all anniseed, cinnamon, citron, and Barbadoes-waters, together with ratafia, and the most noble spirit of Clary-But for cowslip-wine, poppy-water, and all dormitives, those I allow.These provisos admitted, in other things I may prove a tractable and complying husband.

Mill. O horrid provisos! filthy strong waters! I toast fellows! odious men! I hate your odious provisos.

Mira. Then we're agreed. Shall I kiss your hand upon the contract? And here comes one to be a witness to the sealing of the deed.

Enter MRS FAINALL.

Mill. Fainall, what shall I do? Shall I have him? I think I must have him.

Mrs Fain. Ay, ay, take him, take him! what should you do?

Mill. Well, then-I'll take my death, I'm in a horrid fright.-Fainall, I shall never say it—well I think-I'll endure you.

Mrs Fain. Fy, fy! have him, have him, and tell him so in plain terms; for I am sure you have a mind to him.

Mira. I thank you. Imprimis, then, I covenant, that your acquaintance be general; that you admit no sworn confidante, or intimate of your own sex: no she friend to skreen her affairs under your countenance, and tempt you to make trial of a mutual secresy: no decoy-duck to Mill. Are you? I think I have-and the horwheedle you a fop-scrambling to the play in a rid man looks as if he thought so, too. Well, y mask then bring you home in a pretended ridiculous thing you, I'll have you-I won't be fright, when you think you shall be found out- kissed, nor I won't be thanked-Here, kiss my and rail at me for missing the play, and disap-hand though-so hold your tongue now; don't say pointing the frolic, which you had to pick me up, and prove my constancy.

Mill. Detestable imprimis! I go to the play in a mask!

a word.

, you

Mrs Fain. Mirabell, there's a necessity for your obedience; you have neither time to talk, nor stay. My mother is coming; and, in my conMira. Item, I article, that you continue to like science, if she should see you, would fall into fits, your own face, as long as I shall and, while it and, may be, not recover time enough to return passes current with me, that you endeavour not to sir Rowland, who, as Foible tells me, is in a to new-coin it. To which end, together with all fair way to succeed. Therefore, spare your ecstavizards for the day, I prohibit all masks for thecies for another occasion, and slip down the backnight made of oiled-skins, and I know not what. In short, I forbid all commerce with the gentlewoman in What-d'ye-call-it court. Item, I shut my doors against all procuresses with baskets, and pennyworths of muslin, china, fans, &c.Item, when you shall be breeding

stairs, where Foible waits to consult you.

Mill. Ay, go, go! In the mean time, I'll suppose you have said something to please me.

Mira. I am all obedience. [Exit MIRA. Mrs Fain. Yonder's sir Wilfull drunk; and so noisy, that my mother has been forced to leave sir Rowland to appease him; but he answers her Mira. I denounce against all strait-lacing, only with singing and drinking-What they may

Mill. Ah! name it not !

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Wit. Left them? I could stay no longer-I have laughed like ten christenings I am tipsy with laughing-If I had staid any longer I should have burst-I must have been let out, and pier ced in the sides like an unsized camlet-Yes, yes, the fray is composed; my lady came in like a noli prosequi, and stopt the proceedings.

Mill. What was the dispute?

Wit. That's the jest; there was no dispute. They could neither of them speak for rage; and so fell a sputtering at one another, like two roasting apples.

Enter PETULANT drunk.

Now, Petulant? all's over, all's well? gad, my head begins to whim it about-why dost thou not speak? thou art both as drunk and as mute as a fish.

Pet. Look you, Mrs Millamant-if you can love me, dear nymph--say it--and that's the conclusion-pass on, or pass off--that's all.

Wit. Thou hast uttered volumes, folios, in less than decimo sexto, my dear Lacedemonian. Sirrah, Petulant, thou art an epitomizer of words! Pet. Witwould-You are an annihilator of sense!

Wit. Thou art a retailer of phrases; and dost deal in remnants of remnants, like a maker of pincushions!--Thou art, in truth, (metaphorically speaking) a speaker of short-hand !

Pet. Thou art (without a figure) just one-half of an ass, and Baldwin, yonder, thy half-brother, is the rest!--a gemini of asses split would make just four of you!

Wit. Thou dost bite, my dear mustard-seed! Kiss me for that.

Pet. Stand off! I'll kiss no more males. I have kissed your twin yonder in a humour of reconciliation, till he [Hiccup.] rises upon my stomach like a raddish.

Mill. Eh! filthy creature---what was the quar

rel?

Pet. There was no quarrel-there might have been a quarrel.

Wit. If there had been words enow between them to have expressed provocation, they had gone together, by the ears, like a pair of castanets. Pet. You were the quarrel.

Mill. Me! Pet. If I have the humour to quarrel, I can make less matters conclude premises-if you are not handsome, what then, if I have a humour to prove it?If I shall have my reward, say so; if not, fight for your face the next time yourself→→→ I'll go sleep.

Wit. Do, wrap thyself up like a woodlouse, and dream revenge--and, hear me, if thou canst learn to write by to-morrow morning, pen me a challenge; I'll carry it for thee!

Pet. Carry your mistress's monkey a spider! go flea dogs, and read romances !---I'll go to bed. [Exit PETULANT. Mrs Fain. He's horridly drunk-how came you all in this pickle?

Wit. A plot, a plot, to get rid of the knight !-Your husband's advice; but he sueaked off. Enter SIR WILFULL drunk, and LADY WISH

FORT.

Lady Wish. Out upon't, out upon't! at years of discretion, and comport yourself at this rantipole rate!

Sir Wil. No offence, aunt.

Lady Wish. Offence! as I'm a person, l'in ashamed of you-fogh! how you stink of wine! d'ye think my niece will ever endure such a borachio? You're an absolute borachio.

Sir Wil. Borachio!

Lady Wish. At a time when you should commence an amour, and put your best foot fore

most

Sir Wil. 'Sheart, an you grudge me your liquor, make a bill-give me more drink, and take my purse.

Sings. Prithee fill me the glass

Till it laugh in my face,
With ale that is potent and mellow
He that whines for a lass

Is an ignorant ass,

For a bumper has not its fellow.

But if you would have me marry my cousin, say the word, and I'll do it--Wilfull will do it, that's the word-Wilfull will do it, that's my crestmy motto I have forgot.

Lady Wish. My nephew's a little overtaken, cousin but 'tis with drinking your health-On my word, you are obliged to him

Sir Wil. In vino veritas, aunt: if I drunk your health to day, cousin-I am a borachio. But if you have a mind to be married, say the word; dust it away, and let's have t'other round-Tony, and send for the piper; Wilfull will do it. If not, ods-heart, where's Tony?-Tony's an honest fellow; but he spits after a bumper, and that's a fault.

Sings. We'll drink, and we'll never ha' done, boys. Put the glass, then, around with the sun,

boys.

Let Apollo's example invite us;
For he is drunk every night,
And that makes him so bright,
That he's able next morning to light us.

The sun's a good pimple, an honest soaker, he has a cellar at your antipodes. If I travel, aunt, I touch at your antipodes-your antipodes are a good rascally sort of topsy-turvy fellows-if I had a bumper, I'd stand upon my head and drink a health to them-A match or no match, cousin with the hard name?—aunt, Wilfull will do it.

Mill. Your pardon. madam, I can stay no longer-Sir Wilfull grows very powerful. Egh! how he smells! I shall be overcome, if I stay. Come, cousin.

Sir Wil. With a wench, Tony? let me bite your cheek for that.

Wit. Horrible! he has a breath like a bag.. pipe-Ay, ay, come, will you march, my Salopian?

Sir Wil. Lead on, little Tony--I'll follow thee, my Anthony, my Tanthony; sirrah, thou shalt be my Tantony, and I'll be thy pig.

And a fig for your sultan and sophi.

[Exeunt SIR WILFULL, MR WITWOULD, and FOIBLE.

Lady Wish. This will never do. It will never make a match-At least, before he has been abroad.

Enter WAITWELL, disguised, as for SIR Row

LAND.

[Exeunt MILLAMANT and MRS FAINALL. Lady Wish. Smells! he would poison a tallowchandler and his family. Beastly creature, I Dear sir Rowland, I am confounded with confuknow not what to do with him.-Travel quoth a!sion at the retrospection of my own rudeness.→→ ay, travel, travel; get thee gone, get thee gone, I have more pardons to ask than the pope distriget thee but far enough, to the Saracens, or the butes in the year of jubilee. But, I hope, where Tartars, or the Turks-for thou art not fit to live there is likely to be so near an alliance-we may in a Christian commonwealth, thou beastly pa- unbend the severity of decorum and dispense with a little ceremony. gan!

Wait. My impatience, madam, is the effect of my transport; and, till I have the possession of your adorable person, I am tantalized on the rack, and do but hang, madam, on the tenter of ex

Sir Wil. Turks! no; no Turks, aunt; your Turks are infidels, and believe not in the grape. Your Mahometan, your Musselman, is a dry stinkard-No offence, aunt. My map says that your Turk is not so honest a man as your Christian-pectation. I cannot find by the map, that your Mufti is orthodox-whereby it is a plain case, that orthodox is a hard word, aunt, and [Hiccup.] Greek for claret.

Sings. To drink is a Christian diversion,

Unknown to the Turk or the Persian:
Jet Mahometan fools

Live by heathenish rules,

Lady Wish. You have excess of gallantry, sir Rowland; and press things to a conclusion with a most prevailing vehemence-But a day or two for decency of marriage.

Wait. For decency of funeral, madam. The delay will break my heart-or, if that should fail, I shall be poisoned. My nephew will get an inkling of my designs, and poison me-and I would willingly starve him before I die-I would gladly

And be damned over tea-cups and coffee; go out of the world with that satisfaction. That

But let British lads sing,

Crown a health to the king,

And a fig for your sultan and sophi.

Enter FOIBLE, and whispers LADY WISHFORT. Eh, Tony!

Lady Wish. Sir Rowland impatient! good lack, what shall I do with this beastly tumbril ?---go lie down and sleep, you sot---or, as I'm a person, I'll have you bastinadoed with broomsticks. Call up the wenches with broomsticks.

Sir Wil. Ahey! wenches? where are the wenches?

Lady Wish. Dear cousin Witwould, get him away, and you will bind me to you inviolably. I have an affair of moment, that invades me with some precipitation-you will oblige me to all futurity.

Wit. Come, knight-plague on him, I don't know what to say to him---will you go to a cockinatch?

VOL. II.

would be some comfort to me, if I could but live so long as to be revenged on that unnatural viper.

Lady Wish. Is he so unnatural, say you? truly, I would contribute much, both to the saving of your life, and the accomplishment of your revenge. Not that I respect myself; though he has been a perfidious wretch to me.

Wait. Perfidious to you!

Lady Wish. O, sir Rowland, the hours, that he has died away at my feet; the tears, that he has shed; the oaths, that he has sworn; the palpitations, that he has felt; the trances and tremblings, the ardours and the ecstasies, the kneelings and the risings, the heart-heavings and the handgrippings, the pangs and the pathetic regards of his protesting eyes! O, no memory can register. Wait. What, my rival! is the rebel my rival? a'dies.

Lady Wish. No, don't kill him at once, sir Rowland; starve him gradually, inch by inch. Wait. I'll do it. In three weeks he shall be

2 M

barefoot; in a month out at knees with begging an alms-he shall starve upward and upward, till he has nothing living but his head, and then go out in a stink, like a candle's end upon a save

all.

Lady Wish. Well, sir Rowland, you have the way-You are no novice in the labyrinth of love You have the clue-But, as I am a person, sir Rowland, you must not attribute my yielding to any sinister appetite, or indigestion of widowhood; nor impute my complacency to any lethargy of continence I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials—

Wait. Far be it from me

Foi. By heaven! Mrs Marwood's. I know it. My heart akes-get it from her[To him. Wait. A woman's hand! No, madam, that's no woman's hand, I see that already. That's somebody, whose throat must be cut.

Lady Wish. Nay, sir Rowland, since you give me a proof of your passion by your jealousy, I promise you I'll make a return, by a frank communication-You shall see it-we'll open it together-look you here.--Reads Madam, though unknown to you,' (Look you there, 'tis from nobody, that I know) I have that honour for your character, that I think myself obliged to let you know you are abused. He, who pretends to be sir Rowland, is a cheat and a rascal-' O hea

Lady Wish. If you do, I protest I must recede -or think that I have made a prostitution of de-ven's! what's this? corums; but, in the vehemence of compassion, and to save the life of a person of so much importance--

Wait. I esteem it so~

Lady Wish. Or else you wrong my condescen

sion--

Wart. I do not, I do not

Lady Wish. Indeed, you do.

Wait. I do not, fair shrine of virtue.

Lady Wish. If you think the least scruple of carnality was an ingredient

Wait. Dear madam, no. You are all camphire and frankincense; all chastity and odour. Lady Wish. Or that—

Enter FOIBLE.

Foi. Madam, the dancers are ready, and there's one with a letter, who must deliver it into your own hands.

Lady Wish. Sir Rowland, will you give me leave? think favourably, judge candidly, and conclude you have found a person, who would suffer racks in honour's cause, dear sir Rowland, and will wait on you incessantly.

[Exit LADY WISHFORT. Wait. Fy, fy! What a slavery have I undergone! Spouse, hast thou any cordial? I want spirits.

Foi. What a washy rogue art thou, to pant thus for a quarter of an hour's lying and swearing to a fine lady!

Wait. O, she is the antidote to desire. Spouse, thou wilt fare the worse for it. By this hand, I'd rather be a chairman in the dog-days-than act sir Rowland till this time to-morrow.

Enter LADY WISHFORT with a letter. Lady Wish. Call in the dancers;-Sir Rowland, we'll sit, if you please, and see the entertainment. [Dance.] Now, with your permission, sir Rowland, I will peruse my letter-I would open it in your presence, because I would not make you uneasy. If it should make you uneasy I would burn it-speak, if it does--but you may see, the superscription is like a woman's hand.

Foi. Unfortunate, all's ruined!

Wait. How, how! let me see, let me see ;[Reading. A rascal, and disguised, and suborned for that imposture,'-O villainy! O villainy! By the contrivance of

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Lady Wish. I shall faint, I shall die, ho! Foi. Say, 'tis your nephew's hand.-Quickly, his plot, swear it, swear it.

Wait. Here's a villain, madam! don't you perceive it, don't you see it?

Lady Wish. Too well, too well; I have seen too much.

Wait. I told you at first I knew the hand: a woman's hand! The rascal writes a sort of a large hand; your Roman hand-I saw there was a throat to be cut presently. If he were my son, as he is my nephew, I'd pistol him—

Foi. O, treachery! But are you sure, sir Rowland, it is his writing?

Wait. Sure! Am I here? Do I live? Do I love this pearl of India? I have twenty letters in my pocket from him, in the same character. Lady Wish. How !

Foi. O, what luck it is, sir Rowland, that you were present at this juncture! this was the business that brought Mr Mirabell disguised to madam Millamant this afternoon. I thought something was contriving, when he stole by me, and would have hid his face.

Lady Wish. How, how!-I heard the villain was in the house, indeed; and, now, I remember, my niece went away abruptly, when sir Wilfull was to have made his addresses.

Foi. Then, then, madam, Mr Mirabell waited for her in her chamber! but, I would not tell your ladyship, to discompose you, when you were to receive sir Rowland.

Wait. Enough, his date is short.

Foi. No, good sir Rowland, don't incur the law.

Wait. Law! I care not for law. I can but die; and, 'tis in a good cause-My lady shall be satisfied of my truth and innocence, though it cost me my life.

Lady Wish. No, dear sir Rowland, don't fight; if you should be killed, I must never shew niy

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