The Way of the World by William Congreve (bts book recommendations TXT) 📕

come in. These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into a wife. Mirabell 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? Mrs. Millamant You have free leave: propose your utmost, speak and spare not. Mirabell I thank you.⁠—Imprimis, then, I covenant that your acquaintance be general; that you admit no sworn confidant or intimate of your own sex; no she friend to screen her affairs under your countenance, and tempt you to make trial of a mutual secrecy. No decoy-duck to wheedle you a fop-scrambling to the play in a mask⁠—then bring you home in a pretended fright, when you think you shall be found out⁠—and rail at me for missing the play, and disappointing the frolic which you had to pick me up and prove my constancy. Mrs. Millamant Detestable imprimis! I go to the play in a mask! Mirabell Item, I article, that you continue to like your own face as long as I shall, and while it passes current with me, that you endeavour not to new coin it. To which end, together with all vizards for the day, I prohibit all masks for the night, made of oiled skins and I know not what⁠—hog’s bones, hare’s gall, pig water, and the marrow of a roasted cat.79 In short, I forbid all commerce with the gentlewomen in what-d’ye-call-it court. Item, I shut my doors against all bawds with baskets, and pennyworths of muslin, china, fans, atlases, etc.⁠—Item, when you shall be breeding⁠— Mrs. Millamant Ah, name it not. Mirabell Which may be presumed, with a blessing on our endeavours⁠— Mrs. Millamant Odious endeavours! Mirabell I denounce against all strait lacing, squeezing for a shape, till you mould my boy’s head like a sugar-loaf, and instead of a man-child, 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 province, 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 forth⁠—but 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 tea-table, as orange-brandy, all aniseed, cinnamon, citron, and Barbados waters,80 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. Mrs. Millamant Oh, horrid provisos! Filthy strong waters! I toast fellows, odious men! I hate your odious provisos. Mirabell 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. Mrs. Millamant Fainall, what shall I do? Shall I have him? I think I must have him. Mrs. Fainall Aye, aye, take him, take him, what should you do? Mrs. Millamant 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. Fainall Fie, fie, have him, and tell him so in plain terms: for I am sure you have a mind to him. Mrs. Millamant Are you? I think I have⁠—and the horrid man looks as if he thought so too⁠—well, you ridiculous thing you, I’ll have you⁠—I won’t be kissed, nor I won’t be thanked⁠—here, kiss my hand though.⁠—So, hold your tongue now, don’t say a word. Mrs. Fainall Mirabell, there’s a necessity for your obedience: you have neither time to talk nor stay. My mother is coming; and in my conscience if she should see you, would fall into fits, and maybe not recover time enough to return to Sir Rowland, who, as Foible tells me, is in a fair way to succeed. Therefore spare your ecstasies for another occasion, and slip down the back stairs, where Foible waits to consult you. Mrs. Millamant Aye, go, go. In the meantime I suppose you have said something to please me. Mirabell I am all obedience. Exit. Mrs. Fainall Yonder Sir Wilfull’s drunk, and so noisy that my mother has been forced to leave Sir Rowland to appease him; but he answers her only with singing and drinking⁠—what they may have done by this time I know not, but Petulant and he were upon quarrelling as I came by. Mrs. Millamant Well, if Mirabell should not make a good husband, I am a lost thing: for I find I love him violently. Mrs. Fainall So it seems; for you mind not what’s said to you.⁠—If you doubt him, you had best take up with Sir Wilfull. Mrs. Millamant How can you name that superannuated lubber? foh! Enter Witwoud. Mrs. Fainall So, is the fray made up that you have left ’em? Witwoud Left ’em? I could stay no longer⁠—I have laughed like ten Christ’nings. I am tipsy with laughing⁠—if I had stayed any longer I should have burst⁠—I must have been let out and pieced in the sides like an unsized camlet.81 Yes, yes, the fray is composed; my lady came in like a noli prosequi,82 and stopped the proceedings. Mrs. Millamant What was the dispute? Witwoud That’s the jest: there was no dispute. They could neither of ’em speak for rage; and so fell a sputtering at one another like two roasting apples. Enter Petulant, drunk. Witwoud 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. Petulant 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. Witwoud Thou hast uttered volumes, folios, in less than decimo sexto, my dear Lacedemonian.83 Sirrah, Petulant, thou art an epitomizer of words. Petulant Witwoud⁠—you are an annihilator of sense. Witwoud Thou art