The Way of the World

for that, I warrant you (says he) I’ll hamper you for that (says he); you and your old frippery too (says he); I’ll handle you⁠—

Lady Wishfort
Audacious villain! Handle me? Would he durst?⁠—Frippery! Old frippery! Was there ever such a foul-mouthed fellow? I’ll be married tomorrow, I’ll be contracted tonight.


Foible
The sooner the better, madam.


Lady Wishfort
Will Sir Rowland be here, say’st thou? When, Foible?


Foible
Incontinently, madam. No new sheriff’s wife expects the return of her husband after knighthood with that impatience in which Sir Rowland burns for the dear hour of kissing your ladyship’s hand after dinner.


Lady Wishfort
Frippery! Superannuated frippery! I’ll frippery the villain; I’ll reduce him to frippery and rags, a tatterdemalion! I hope to see him hung with tatters, like a Long Lane penthouse, 40 or a gibbet thief. A slander-mouthed railer! I warrant the spendthrift prodigal’s in debt as much as the million lottery, 41 or the whole court upon a birthday. 42 I’ll spoil his credit with his tailor. Yes, he shall have my niece with her fortune, he shall.


Foible
He! I hope to see him lodge in Ludgate first, and angle into Blackfriars for brass farthings with an old mitten. 43


Lady Wishfort
Aye, dear Foible; thank thee for that, dear Foible. He has put me out of all patience. I shall never recompose my features to receive Sir Rowland with any economy of face. This wretch has fretted me that I am absolutely decayed. Look, Foible.


Foible
Your ladyship has frowned a little too rashly, indeed, madam. There are some cracks discernible in the white varnish.


Lady Wishfort
Let me see the glass.⁠—Cracks, say’st thou? Why, I am arrantly flayed⁠—I look like an old peeled wall. Thou must repair me, Foible, before Sir Rowland comes, or I shall never keep up to my picture.


Foible
I warrant you, madam, a little art once made your picture like you, and now a little of the same art must make you like your picture. Your picture must sit for you, madam.


Lady Wishfort
But art thou sure Sir Rowland will not fail to come? Or will a not fail when he does come? Will he be importunate, Foible, and push? For if he should not be importunate I shall never break decorums⁠—I shall die with confusion if I am forced to advance⁠—oh no, I can never advance⁠—I shall swoon if he should expect advances. No, I hope Sir Rowland is better bred than to put a lady to the necessity of breaking her forms. I won’t be too coy neither⁠—I won’t give him despair⁠—but a little disdain is not amiss; a little scorn is alluring.


Foible
A little scorn becomes your ladyship.


Lady Wishfort
Yes, but tenderness becomes me best⁠—a sort of a dyingness⁠—you see that picture has a sort of a⁠—ha, Foible! A swimmingness in the eyes⁠—yes, I’ll look so⁠—my niece affects it; but she wants features. Is Sir Rowland handsome? Let my toilet be removed⁠—I’ll dress above. I’ll receive Sir Rowland here. Is he handsome? Don’t answer me. I won’t know; I’ll be surprised. I’ll be taken by surprise.


Foible
By storm, madam. Sir Rowland’s a brisk man.


Lady Wishfort
Is he? Oh, then, he’ll importune, if he’s a brisk man. I shall save decorums if Sir Rowland importunes. I have a mortal terror at the apprehension of offending against decorums. Oh, I’m glad he’s a brisk man. Let my things be removed, good Foible.



Exit.



Enter  Mrs. Fainall.


 Mrs. Fainall
O Foible, I have been in a fright, lest I should come too late. That devil, Marwood, saw you in the park with Mirabell, and I’m afraid will discover it to my lady.


Foible
Discover what, madam?


 Mrs. Fainall
Nay, nay, put not on that strange face. I am privy to the whole design, and know that Waitwell, to whom thou wert this morning married, is to personate Mirabell’s uncle, and, as such winning my lady, to involve her in those difficulties from which Mirabell only must release her, by his making his conditions to have my cousin and her fortune left to her own disposal.


Foible
O dear madam, I beg your pardon. It was not my confidence in your ladyship that was deficient; but I thought the former good correspondence between your ladyship and  Mr. Mirabell might have hindered his communicating this secret.


 Mrs. Fainall
Dear Foible, forget that.


Foible
O dear madam,  Mr. Mirabell is such a sweet winning gentleman⁠—but your ladyship is the pattern of generosity.⁠—Sweet lady, to be so good!  Mr. Mirabell cannot choose but be grateful. I find your ladyship has his heart still. Now, madam, I can safely tell your ladyship our success:  Mrs. Marwood had told my lady, but I warrant I managed myself. I turned it all for the better. I told my lady that  Mr. Mirabell railed at her. I laid horrid things to his charge, I’ll vow; and my lady is so incensed that she’ll be contracted to Sir Rowland tonight, she says; I warrant I worked her up that he may have her for asking for, as they say of a Welsh maidenhead.


 Mrs. Fainall
O rare Foible!


Foible
Madam, I beg your ladyship to acquaint  Mr. Mirabell of his success. I would be seen as little as possible to speak to him⁠—besides, I believe Madam Marwood watches me. She has a month’s mind; 44 but I know  Mr. Mirabell can’t abide her.⁠—John!⁠—Calls. remove my lady’s toilet.⁠—Madam, your servant. My lady is so impatient, I fear she’ll come for me, if I stay.


 Mrs. Fainall
I’ll go with you up the backstairs, lest I should meet her.



Exeunt.


Scene II
Lady Wishfort’s closet.




 Mrs. Marwood alone.


 Mrs. Marwood
Indeed,  Mrs. Engine, is it thus with you? Are you become a go-between of this importance? Yes, I shall watch you. Why this wench is the passe-partout, 45 a very master-key to everybody’s strong box. My friend Fainall, have you carried it so swimmingly? I thought there was something in it; but it seems it’s over with you. Your loathing is not from