The Way of the World by William Congreve (bts book recommendations TXT) 📕
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William Congreve’s comedy The Way of the World was first performed in 1700 at the theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London. It was not well received, and as a result Congreve vowed never to write for the stage again—a vow he kept. Nonetheless the comedy was printed in the same year and has come to be regarded as the author’s masterpiece, a classic of Restoration drama.
In a world still reacting against the puritanism of Cromwell and the Commonwealth, Restoration drama had slowly transitioned from celebrating the licentiousness and opulence of the newly returned court to the more thoughtful and refined comedy of manners that was to dominate the English stage of 18th century. In one way Congreve’s The Way of the World is the last (and best) of its type, and in another way, it is the forerunner of a style that is echoed even now.
The play centers on the love affair of Mirabell and Millamant who are prevented from marrying by a number of obstacles, not the least of which is Mirabell’s past dalliance with Millamant’s aunt’s affections. Intricate, witty, and amusing, the comedy nevertheless concludes with no clear heroes or heroines—one of the things that makes it such an incisive portrait of human experience and an enduring example of its type.
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- Author: William Congreve
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Aye, there’s my grief; that’s the sad change of life:
To lose my title, and yet keep my wife.
A room in Lady Wishfort’s house.
Lady Wishfort at her toilet, Peg waiting. Lady Wishfort Merciful! No news of Foible yet? Peg No, madam. Lady Wishfort I have no more patience.—If I have not fretted myself till I am pale again, there’s no veracity in me. Fetch me the red—the red, do you hear, sweetheart?—An errant ash colour, as I’m a person. Look you how this wench stirs! Why dost thou not fetch me a little red? Didst thou not hear me, Mopus?33 Peg The red ratafia, does your ladyship mean, or the cherry brandy? Lady Wishfort Ratafia, fool? No, fool. Not the ratafia, fool—grant me patience!—I mean the Spanish paper,34 idiot; complexion, darling. Paint, paint, paint, dost thou understand that, changeling, dangling thy hands like bobbins before thee? Why dost thou not stir, puppet? Thou wooden thing upon wires! Peg Lord, madam, your ladyship is so impatient!—I cannot come at the paint, madam: Mrs. Foible has locked it up, and carried the key with her. Lady Wishfort A pox take you both.—Fetch me the cherry brandy then.Exit Peg. I’m as pale and as faint, I look like Mrs. Qualmsick, the curate’s wife, that’s always breeding. Wench, come, come, wench, what art thou doing? Sipping? Tasting?—Save thee, dost thou not know the bottle? Re-enter Peg with a bottle and china cup. Peg Madam, I was looking for a cup. Lady Wishfort A cup, save thee, and what a cup hast thou brought! Dost thou take me for a fairy, to drink out of an acorn? Why didst thou not bring thy thimble? Hast thou ne’er a brass thimble clinking in thy pocket with a bit of nutmeg?35—I warrant thee. Come, fill, fill!—So—again.—Knocking at the door. See who that is.—Set down the bottle first!—here, here, under the table.—What, wouldst thou go with the bottle in thy hand like a tapster? As I’m a person, this wench has lived in an inn upon the road, before she came to me, like Maritornes the Asturian in Don Quixote.36—No Foible yet? Peg No, madam; Mrs. Marwood. Lady Wishfort Oh, Marwood: let her come in.—Come in, good Marwood. Enter Mrs. Marwood. Mrs. Marwood I’m surprised to find your ladyship in deshabille at this time of day. Lady Wishfort Foible’s a lost thing; has been abroad since morning, and never heard of since. Mrs. Marwood I saw her but now, as I came masked through the park, in conference with Mirabell. Lady Wishfort With Mirabell!—You call my blood into my face with mentioning that traitor. She durst not have the confidence. I sent her to negotiate an affair, in which if I’m detected I’m undone. If that wheedling villain has wrought upon Foible to detect me, I’m ruined. O my dear friend, I’m a wretch of wretches if I’m detected. Mrs. Marwood O madam, you cannot suspect Mrs. Foible’s integrity! Lady Wishfort Oh, he carries poison in his tongue that would corrupt integrity itself! If she has given him an opportunity, she has as good as put her integrity into his hands. Ah, dear Marwood, what’s integrity to an opportunity?—Hark! I hear her!—dear friend, retire into my closet, that I may examine her with more freedom—you’ll pardon me, dear friend, I can make bold with you—there are books over the chimney—Quarles and Prynne,37 and the Short View of the Stage,38 with Bunyan’s works to entertain you.—To Peg.—Go, you thing, and send her in. Exeunt Mrs. Marwood and Peg. Enter Foible. Lady Wishfort O Foible, where hast thou been? What hast thou been doing? Foible Madam, I have seen the party. Lady Wishfort But what hast thou done? Foible Nay, ’tis your ladyship has done, and are to do; I have only promised. But a man so enamoured—so transported! Well, if worshipping of pictures be a sin—poor Sir Rowland, I say. Lady Wishfort The miniature has been counted like. But hast thou not betrayed me, Foible? Hast thou not detected me to that faithless Mirabell? What hast thou to do with him in the park? Answer me, has he got nothing out of thee? Foible Aside. So, the devil has been beforehand with me; what shall I say?—Aloud.—Alas, madam, could I help it, if I met that confident thing? Was I in fault? If you had heard how he used me, and all upon your ladyship’s account, I’m sure you would not suspect my fidelity. Nay, if that had been the worst I could have borne: but he had a fling at your ladyship too, and then I could not hold; but, i’faith I gave him his own. Lady Wishfort Me? What did the filthy fellow say? Foible O madam, ’tis a shame to say what he said—with his taunts and his fleers, tossing up his nose. Humph! (says he) what, you are a hatching some plot (says he), you are so early abroad, or catering (says he), ferreting for some disbanded officer, I warrant.—Half pay is but thin subsistence (says he), well, what pension does your lady propose? Let me see, (says he), what, she must come down pretty deep now, she’s superannuated (says he) and— Lady Wishfort Ods my life, I’ll have him—I’ll have him murdered. I’ll have him poisoned. Where does he eat?—I’ll marry a drawer to have him poisoned in his wine. I’ll send for Robin from Locket’s39 immediately. Foible Poison him? Poisoning’s too good for him. Starve him, madam, starve him; marry Sir Rowland, and get him disinherited. Oh, you would bless yourself to hear what he said! Lady Wishfort A villain! Superannuated! Foible Humph (says he), I hear you are laying designs against me too (says he) and Mrs. Millamant is to marry my uncle (he does not suspect a word of your ladyship); but (says he) I’ll fit you
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