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.

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 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.

Mill. Detestable imprimis! I go to the play

in a mask!

it

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

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. Fie, fie, have him, have him, and tell him so in plain terms; for I am sure you have a mind to have him.

Mill. 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.

Mill. Ah! name it not.

ing on our endeavours

Mill. Odious endeavours!

Mira. 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 manchild, make me father to a crooked billet. Lastly, to the dominion of the tea-table I submitBut 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 authorized tea-table talk-Such as mending of fashions, spoiling reputations, railing at absent friends, and so forth-But that on no account you encroach on 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 anniseed, cinnamon, citron, and Barbadoes waters, together with ratafia, and the most noble spirit of clary. But for cowslip wine, poppey-water, and all dormitives, those I allow. These proviso admitted, in other things I may prove a tractable and complying husband.

Mill. O, horrid proviso! filthy strong waters! I toast fellows; odious men! I hate your odious proviso

swers 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.

Mill. Well, if Mirabell should not make a good husband, I am a lost thing; for I find I love him violently.

Mrs Fain. So it seems; for you mind not what's said to you.-If you doubt him, you had better take up with Sir Wilfull.

Mill. How can you name that superannuated lubber? foh!

WITWOULD enters, from drinking. Mrs Fain. So, is the fray made up, that you have left 'em?

Wit. Left 'em? I could stay no longer—I have laugh'd 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 pierced 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 'em speak for rage, and

PETULANT enters, 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

pin-cushions-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 [Hiccups] rises upon my stomach like a raddish.

Mill. Eh! filthy creature-what was the quarrel?

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

Wit. If there had been words enow between 'em 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 -If I shall have my reward, say so: prove it? if not, fight for your face the next time yourself -I'll go sleep.

Wit. Do wrap thyself up like a wood-louse, 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 spidergo flea dogs, and read romances -I'll go to bed to my maid.

[Exit.

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 sneaked off. Sir WILFULL, drunk, and Lady WISHFORT enter. L. Wish. Out upon't, out upon't! at years of discretion, and comport yourself at this rantipole rate!

Sir Wil. No offence, aunt.

L. Wish. Offence! as I am a person, I'm ashamed of you-foh! how you stink of wine!

Sir Wil. Borachio !

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

most

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

Pr'ythee 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-Wilfull will do't, that's my crestthe word, and I'll do't-Wilfull will do't, that's my motto I have forgot.

L. Wish. My nephew's a little overtaken, cousin-but 'tis with drinking your healthmy 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, and send for the piper; Wilfull will do't. If not, dust it away, and let's have t'other round

-Tony! od's heart, where's Tony?-Tony's and that's a fault. an honest fellow, but he spits after a bumper, [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's 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 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't. If she has her maidenhead, let her look to't; if she has not, let her keep her own counsel in the mean time, and cry out at the nine month's end.

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.

[Exeunt MILLAMANT and Mrs FAINALL. L. Wish. Smells! he would poison a tallowchandler and his family. Beastly creature! I know not what to do with him. Travel, quotha! ay, travel, travel, get thee gone, get thee gone, get thee but far enough, to the Saracens, or the Tartars, or the Turks; for thou art not fit to live in a Christian commonwealth, thou beastly Pagan.

Sir Wil. Turks! no; no Turks, aunt; your Turks are infidels, and believe not in the grave.

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. 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-[Hiccups] Greek for claret. [Sings.

To drink is a Christian diversion, Unknown to the Turk or the Persian: Let Mahometan fools Live by heathenish rules, And be damned over tea-cups and coffee; But let British lads sing, Crown a health to the king, And a fig for your sultan and sophi. FOIBLE enters, and whispers Lady WISHFORT. Eh, Tony!

L. 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.

es ?

Sir Wil. Ahey! wenches; where are the wench

L. 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 cockmatch?

Sir Wil. With a wench, Tony? Is she a shake bag, sirrah? let me bite your cheek for that.

Wit. Horrible! he has a breath like a bagpipe.-Ay, ay, come, will you march, my Salopi

an?

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

-And a fig for your sultan and sophi.
[Exeunt Sir WILFULL, Mr WIT. and
FOIBLE.

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

WAITWELL enters disguised as for Sir Row

LAND.

Dear Sir Rowland, I am confounded with confusion at the retrospection of my own rudeness. -I have more pardons to ask than the pope distributes in the year of jubilee. But I hope where there is likely to be so near an alliance, we may unbend the severity of decorum, and dispense with a little ceremony.

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 expectation.

L. Wish. You have an excess of gallantry, Sir Rowland, and press things to a conclusion with

per.

L. 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!

L. 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 ecstacies, the kneelings and the risings, the heart-heavings and the hand-gripings, the pangs and the pathetic regards of his protesting eyes! Oh, no memory can register. Wait. What, my rival! is the rebel my rival ? a' dies.

L. Wish. No, don't kill him at once, Sir Rowland; starve him gradually, inch by inch.

Wait. I'll do't. In three weeks he shail be 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 saveall.

L. 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 mẹ prone to any iteration of nuptials

Wait. Far be it from me

L. Wish. If you do, I protest I must recede→ or think that I have made a prostitution of decorums ; but in the vehemence of compassion, and to save the life of a person of so much importance

Wait. I esteem it so

L. Wish. Or else you wrong my condescen|·sion

Wait. I do not, I do not

L. Wish. Indeed you do.

Wait. I do not, fair shrine of virtue. L. Wish. If you think the least scruple of car nality was an ingredient

Wait. Dear madam, no. You are all cam, phire and frankincense, all chastity and odour. L. Wish. Or that

FOIBLE enters.

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

Lish. 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. Wait. Fie, fie!-What a slavery have I undergone! Spouse, hast thou any cordial? I want spirits.

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?

L. Wish. How!

Lady WISHFORT enters, with a letter. L Wish. Call in the dancers.-Sir Rowland, we'll sit, if you please, and see the entertainment. [Dance. Now, with your perinission, 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 sce the superscription is like a woman's hand. Foi. By Heaven! Mrs Marwood's. I know it. My heart aches-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.

L. 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, Heavens! what's this?

For. Unfortunate! all's ruin'd!

Wait. How, how! let me see, let me see[Reading.] “A rascal, and disguised and suborn'd for that imposture"- -O, villainy! O, villainy! By the contrivance of"

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

Quick

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

L. Wish. Too well, too well. I have seen too much.

Wait. I told you at first I knew the hand-

Madam Millamant this afternoon. I thought something was contriving, when he stole by me, and would have hid his face.

L. 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.

L. Wish. No, dear Sir Rowland, don't fight; if you should be killed I must never shew my face; or hang'd-O, consider my reputation, Sir Rowland- No, you sha'n't fight-I'll go in and examine my niece; I'll make her confess. I conjure you, Sir Rowland, by all your love, not to fight.

Wait. I am charmed, madam; I obey. But some proof you must let me give you ;—I'll go for a black box, which contains the writings of my whole estate, and deliver that into your hands.

L. Wish. Ay, dear Sir Rowland, that will be some comfort: bring the black box.

Wait. And may I presume to bring a contract, to be signed this night? May I hope so far?

L. Wish. Bring what you will; but come alive, pray come alive. O, this is a happy discovery.

Wait. Dead or alive I'll come-and married we will be, in spite of treachery; ay, and get an heir that shall defeat the last remaining glimpse of hope in my abandoned nephew. Come, my buxom widow,

Ere long you shall substantial proof receive
That I'm an arrant knight-

Foi. Or arrant knave.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I-Continues. Lady WISHFORT and FOIBLE.

L. Wish. Out of my house, out of my house, thou viper, thou serpent, that I have fostered; thou bosom traitress, that I raised from nothing -Be gone, be gone, be gone, go, go-That I took from washing of old gauze, and weaving of dead hair, with a bleak blue nose, over a chaffing-dish of starved embers, and dining behind a traverserag, in a shop no bigger than a bird-cage—go, go, starve again; do, do.

Foi. Dear madam, I'll beg pardon on my knees. L. Wish. Away, out, out, go set up for yourself again: Do drive a trade, do, with your threepennyworth of small ware, flaunting upon a packthread, under a brandy-seller's bulk, or against a dead wall by a ballad-inonger. Go, hang out an old frisoneer-gorget, with a yard of yellow Colberteen again; do; an old gnaw'd mask, two rows of pins, and a child's fiddle; a glass neck- | lace, with the beads broken, and a quilted nightcap with one ear. Go, go, drive a trade.-These were your commodities, you treacherous trull; this was the merchandize you dealt in, when I took you into my house, placed you next myself, and made you governante of my whole family. You have forgot this, have you, now you have feathered your nest?

Foi. No, no, dear madam. Do but hear me; have but a moment's patience-I'll confess all. Mr Mirabell seduced me; I am not the first that he has wheedled with his dissembling tongue; your ladyship's own wisdom has been deluded by him; then how should I, a poor ignorant, defend myself? O, madam, if you knew but what he promised me, and how he assured me your ladyship should come to no damage-Or else the wealth of the Indies should not have bribed me to conspire against so good, so sweet, so kind a lady as you have been to me.

L. Wish. No damage! What, to betray me, and marry me to a cast serving-man; to make me a receptacle, an hospital for a decayed pimp? No damage! O! thou frontless impudence, more than a big-bellied actress.

Foi. Pray do but hear me, madam. He could not marry your ladyship, madam-No, indeed, his marriage was to have been void in law; for he was married to me first, to secure your ladyship. He could not have bedded your ladyship; for if he had consummated with your ladyship, he must have run the risk of the law, and been put upon his clergy.-Yes, indeed, I inquired of the law in that case, before I would meddle or make. L. Wish. What, then I have been your property, have I? I have been convenient to you, it seems-While you were catering for Mirabell, I

Mrs Fain. Poor Foible, what's the matter? For. O, madam, my lady's gone for a constable; I shall be had to a justice, and put to Sridewell to beat hemp; poor Waitwell's gone to prison already.

Mrs Fuin. Have a good heart, Foible; Mirabell's gone to give security for him. This is all Marwood's and my husband's doing.

Foi. Yes, yes, I know it, madam; she was in my lady's closet, and overheard all that you said to me before dinner. She sent the letter to my lady; and that missing effect, Mr Fainall laid this plot to arrest Waitwell, when he pretended to go for the papers; and in the mean time Mrs Marwood declared all to my lady.

Mrs Fain. Was there no mention made of me in the letter?-My mother does not suspect my being in the confederacy; I fancy Marwood has not told her, though she has told my husband.

Foi. Yes, madam; but my lady did not see that part: we stifled the letter before she read so far. Has that mischievous devil told Mr Fainall of your ladyship, then?

Mis Fain. Ay, all's out; my affair with Mirabell, every thing discovered. This is the last day of our living together, that's my comfort.

Foi. Indeed, madam, and so 'tis a comfort, if you knew all-He has been even with your ladyship; which I could have told you long enough since, but I love to keep peace and quietness by my good will: I had rather bring friends together, than set them at distance. But Mrs Marwood and he are nearer related than ever their parents thought for.

Mrs Fain. Say'st thou so, Foible? Canst thou prove this?

Foi. I can take my oath of it, madam; so can Mrs Mincing; we have had many a fair word from Madam Marwood, to conceal something that passed in our chamber one evening when we were at Hyde Park-and we were thought to have gone a-walking: but we went up unawares--though we were sworn to secrecy too: Madam Marwood took a book, and swore us upon it; but it was