The Way of the World
friend, the inconveniences which perhaps you have overseen. Here comes
Mr. Fainall; if he will be satisfied to huddle up all in silence, I shall
be glad. You must think I would rather congratulate than condole with
you.
SCENE VI.
FAINALL, LADY WISHFORT, MRS. MARWOOD.
LADY. Ay, ay, I do not doubt it, dear Marwood. No, no, I do not doubt
it.
FAIN. Well, madam, I have suffered myself to be overcome by the
importunity of this lady, your friend, and am content you shall enjoy
your own proper estate during life, on condition you oblige yourself
never to marry, under such penalty as I think convenient.
LADY. Never to marry?
FAIN. No more Sir Rowlands,—the next imposture may not be so timely
detected.
MRS. MAR. That condition, I dare answer, my lady will consent to,
without difficulty; she has already but too much experienced the
perfidiousness of men. Besides, madam, when we retire to our pastoral
solitude, we shall bid adieu to all other thoughts.
LADY. Ay, that’s true; but in case of necessity, as of health, or some
such emergency—
FAIN. Oh, if you are prescribed marriage, you shall be considered; I
will only reserve to myself the power to choose for you. If your physic
be wholesome, it matters not who is your apothecary. Next, my wife shall
settle on me the remainder of her fortune, not made over already; and for
her maintenance depend entirely on my discretion.
LADY. This is most inhumanly savage: exceeding the barbarity of a
Muscovite husband.
FAIN. I learned it from his Czarish Majesty’s retinue, in a winter
evening’s conference over brandy and pepper, amongst other secrets of
matrimony and policy, as they are at present practised in the northern
hemisphere. But this must be agreed unto, and that positively. Lastly,
I will be endowed, in right of my wife, with that six thousand pound,
which is the moiety of Mrs. Millamant’s fortune in your possession, and
which she has forfeited (as will appear by the last will and testament of
your deceased husband, Sir Jonathan Wishfort) by her disobedience in
contracting herself against your consent or knowledge, and by refusing
the offered match with Sir Wilfull Witwoud, which you, like a careful
aunt, had provided for her.
LADY. My nephew was _non compos_, and could not make his addresses.
FAIN. I come to make demands—I’ll hear no objections.
LADY. You will grant me time to consider?
FAIN. Yes, while the instrument is drawing, to which you must set your
hand till more sufficient deeds can be perfected: which I will take care
shall be done with all possible speed. In the meanwhile I will go for
the said instrument, and till my return you may balance this matter in
your own discretion.
SCENE VII.
LADY WISHFORT, MRS. MARWOOD.
LADY. This insolence is beyond all precedent, all parallel. Must I be
subject to this merciless villain?
MRS. MAR. ’Tis severe indeed, madam, that you should smart for your
daughter’s wantonness.
LADY. ’Twas against my consent that she married this barbarian, but she
would have him, though her year was not out. Ah! her first husband, my
son Languish, would not have carried it thus. Well, that was my choice,
this is hers; she is matched now with a witness—I shall be mad, dear
friend; is there no comfort for me? Must I live to be confiscated at
this rebel-rate? Here come two more of my Egyptian plagues too.
SCENE VIII.
[_To them_] MRS. MILLAMANT, SIR WILFULL.
SIR WIL. Aunt, your servant.
LADY. Out, caterpillar, call not me aunt; I know thee not.
SIR WIL. I confess I have been a little in disguise, as they say.
’Sheart! and I’m sorry for’t. What would you have? I hope I committed
no offence, aunt—and if I did I am willing to make satisfaction; and what
can a man say fairer? If I have broke anything I’ll pay for’t, an it
cost a pound. And so let that content for what’s past, and make no more
words. For what’s to come, to pleasure you I’m willing to marry my
cousin. So, pray, let’s all be friends, she and I are agreed upon the
matter before a witness.
LADY. How’s this, dear niece? Have I any comfort? Can this be true?
MILLA. I am content to be a sacrifice to your repose, madam, and to
convince you that I had no hand in the plot, as you were misinformed. I
have laid my commands on Mirabell to come in person, and be a witness
that I give my hand to this flower of knighthood; and for the contract
that passed between Mirabell and me, I have obliged him to make a
resignation of it in your ladyship’s presence. He is without and waits
your leave for admittance.
LADY. Well, I’ll swear I am something revived at this testimony of your
obedience; but I cannot admit that traitor,—I fear I cannot fortify
myself to support his appearance. He is as terrible to me as a Gorgon:
if I see him I swear I shall turn to stone, petrify incessantly.
MILLA. If you disoblige him he may resent your refusal, and insist upon
the contract still. Then ’tis the last time he will be offensive to you.
LADY. Are you sure it will be the last time? If I were sure of
that—shall I never see him again?
MILLA. Sir Wilfull, you and he are to travel together, are you not?
SIR WIL. ’Sheart, the gentleman’s a civil gentleman, aunt, let him come
in; why, we are sworn brothers and fellow-travellers. We are to be
Pylades and Orestes, he and I. He is to be my interpreter in foreign
parts. He has been overseas once already; and with proviso that I marry
my cousin, will cross ’em once again, only to bear me company. ’Sheart,
I’ll call him in,—an I set on’t once, he shall come in; and see who’ll
hinder him. [_Goes to the door and hems_.]
MRS. MAR. This is precious fooling, if it would pass; but I’ll know the
bottom of it.
LADY. O dear Marwood, you are not going?
MRS. MAR. Not far, madam; I’ll return immediately.
SCENE IX.
LADY WISHFORT, MRS. MILLAMANT, SIR WILFULL, MIRABELL.
SIR WIL. Look up, man, I’ll stand by you; ’sbud, an she do frown, she
can’t kill you. Besides—harkee, she dare not frown desperately, because
her face is none of her own. ’Sheart, an she should, her forehead would
wrinkle like the coat of a cream cheese; but mum for that,
fellow-traveller.
MIRA. If a deep sense of the many injuries I have offered to so good a
lady, with a sincere remorse and a hearty contrition, can but obtain the
least glance of compassion. I am too happy. Ah, madam, there was a
time—but let it be forgotten. I confess I have deservedly forfeited the
high place I once held, of sighing at your feet; nay, kill me not by
turning from me in disdain, I come not to plead for favour. Nay, not for
pardon: I am a suppliant only for pity:—I am going where I never shall
behold you more.
SIR WIL. How, fellow-traveller? You shall go by yourself then.
MIRA. Let me be pitied first, and afterwards forgotten. I ask no more.
SIR WIL. By’r lady, a very reasonable request, and will cost you
nothing, aunt. Come, come, forgive and forget, aunt. Why you must an
you are a Christian.
MIRA. Consider, madam; in reality you could not receive much prejudice:
it was an innocent device, though I confess it had a face of
guiltiness—it was at most an artifice which love contrived—and errors
which love produces have ever been accounted venial. At least think it
is punishment enough that I have lost what in my heart I hold most dear,
that to your cruel indignation I have offered up this beauty, and with
her my peace and quiet; nay, all my hopes of future comfort.
SIR WIL. An he does not move me, would I may never be o’ the quorum. An
it were not as good a deed as to drink, to give her to him again, I would
I might never take shipping. Aunt, if you don’t forgive quickly, I shall
melt, I can tell you that. My contract went no farther than a little
mouth-glue, and that’s hardly dry; one doleful sigh more from my
fellow-traveller and ’tis dissolved.
LADY. Well, nephew, upon your account. Ah, he has a false insinuating
tongue. Well, sir, I will stifle my just resentment at my nephew’s
request. I will endeavour what I can to forget, but on proviso that you
resign the contract with my niece immediately.
MIRA. It is in writing and with papers of concern; but I have sent my
servant for it, and will deliver it to you, with all acknowledgments for
your transcendent goodness.
LADY. Oh, he has witchcraft in his eyes and tongue; when I did not see
him I could have bribed a villain to his assassination; but his
appearance rakes the embers which have so long lain smothered in my
breast. [_Aside_.]
SCENE X.
[_To them_] FAINALL, MRS. MARWOOD.
FAIN. Your date of deliberation, madam, is expired. Here is the
instrument; are you prepared to sign?
LADY. If I were prepared, I am not impowered. My niece exerts a lawful
claim, having matched herself by my direction to Sir Wilfull.
FAIN. That sham is too gross to pass on me, though ’tis imposed on you,
madam.
MILLA. Sir, I have given my consent.
MIRA. And, sir, I have resigned my pretensions.
SIR WIL. And, sir, I assert my right; and will maintain it in defiance
of you, sir, and of your instrument. ’Sheart, an you talk of an
instrument sir, I have an old fox by my thigh shall hack your instrument
of ram vellum to shreds, sir. It shall not be sufficient for a Mittimus
or a tailor’s measure; therefore withdraw your instrument, sir, or, by’r
lady, I shall draw mine.
LADY. Hold, nephew, hold.
MILLA. Good Sir Wilfull, respite your valour.
FAIN. Indeed? Are you provided of your guard, with your single
beef-eater there? But I’m prepared for you, and insist upon my first
proposal. You shall submit your own estate to my management, and
absolutely make over my wife’s to my sole use, as pursuant to the purport
and tenor of this other covenant. I suppose, madam, your consent is not
requisite in this case; nor, Mr. Mirabell, your resignation; nor, Sir
Wilfull, your right. You may draw your fox if you please, sir, and make
a bear-garden flourish somewhere else; for here it will not avail. This,
my Lady Wishfort, must be subscribed, or your darling daughter’s turned
adrift, like a leaky hulk to sink or swim, as she and the current of this
lewd town can agree.
LADY. Is there no means, no remedy, to stop my ruin? Ungrateful wretch!
Dost thou not owe thy being, thy subsistance, to my daughter’s fortune?
FAIN. I’ll answer you when I have the rest of it in my possession.
MIRA. But that you would not accept of a remedy from my hands—I own I
have not deserved you should owe any obligation to me; or else, perhaps,
I could devise—
LADY. Oh, what? what? To save me and my child from ruin, from want,
I’ll forgive all that’s past; nay, I’ll consent to anything to come, to
be delivered from this tyranny.
MIRA. Ay, madam; but that is too late, my reward is intercepted. You
have disposed of her who only could have made me a compensation for all
my services. But be it as it may, I am resolved I’ll serve you; you
shall not be wronged in this savage manner.
LADY. How? Dear Mr. Mirabell, can you be so generous at last? But it
is not possible. Harkee, I’ll break my nephew’s match; you shall have my
niece yet, and all her fortune, if you can but save me from this imminent
danger.
MIRA. Will you? I take you at your word. I ask no more. I must have
leave for two criminals to appear.
LADY. Ay, ay, anybody, anybody.
MIRA. Foible is one, and a penitent.
SCENE XI.
[_To them_] MRS. FAINALL, FOIBLE, MINCING.
MRS. MAR. O my shame! [MIRABELL _and_ LADY _go to_ MRS. FAINALL _and_