The Way of the World

you, gentlemen and lady.

 Mrs. Marwood
For shame,  Mr. Witwoud; why won’t you speak to him?⁠—And you, sir.


Witwoud
Petulant, speak.


Petulant
And you, sir.


Sir Wilful
No offence, I hope? Salutes  Mrs. Marwood.


 Mrs. Marwood
No, sure, sir.


Witwoud
This is a vile dog, I see that already. No offence! Ha! ha! ha! To him, to him, Petulant, smoke him. 55


Petulant
It seems as if you had come a journey, sir; hem, hem. Surveying him round.


Sir Wilful
Very likely, sir, that it may seem so.


Petulant
No offence, I hope, sir?


Witwoud
Smoke the boots, the boots, Petulant, the boots: ha! ha! ha!


Sir Wilful
Maybe not, sir; thereafter as ’tis meant, 56 sir.


Petulant
Sir, I presume upon the information of your boots.


Sir Wilful
Why, ’tis like you may, sir: if you are not satisfied with the information of my boots, sir, if you will step to the stable, you may enquire further of my horse, sir.


Petulant
Your horse, sir! Your horse is an ass, sir!


Sir Wilful
Do you speak by way of offence, sir?


 Mrs. Marwood
The gentleman’s merry, that’s all, sir. Aside. ’Slife, we shall have a quarrel betwixt an horse and an ass, before they find one another out.⁠—Aloud. You must not take anything amiss from your friends, sir. You are among your friends here, though it⁠—may be you don’t know it. If I am not mistaken, you are Sir Wilfull Witwoud?


Sir Wilful
Right, lady; I am Sir Wilfull Witwoud, so I write myself; no offence to anybody, I hope; and nephew to the Lady Wishfort of this mansion.


 Mrs. Marwood
Don’t you know this gentleman, sir?


Sir Wilful
Hum! What, sure ’tis not⁠—yea by’r lady but ’tis⁠—s’heart, I know not whether ’tis or no⁠—yea, but ’tis, by the Wrekin. Brother Anthony! What, Tony, i’faith! What, dost thou not know me? By’r lady, nor I thee, thou art so becravated and so beperiwigged.⁠—S’heart, why dost not speak? Art thou o’erjoyed?


Witwoud
Odso, brother, is it you? Your servant, brother.


Sir Wilful
Your servant! Why, yours, sir. Your servant again⁠—s’heart, and your friend and servant to that⁠—and a⁠—puff and a flap-dragon for your service, sir, and a hare’s foot and a hare’s scut 57 for your service, sir, an you be so cold and so courtly!


Witwoud
No offence, I hope, brother.


Sir Wilful
S’heart, sir, but there is, and much offence!⁠—A pox, is this your inns o’ court breeding, not to know your friends and your relations, your elders, and your betters?


Witwoud
Why, brother Wilfull of Salop, 58 you may be as short as a Shrewsbury cake, if you please. But I tell you ’tis not modish to know relations in town.:you think you’re in the country, where great lubberly brothers slabber and kiss one another when they meet, like a call of sergeants. 59⁠—’tis not the fashion here; ’tis not, indeed, dear brother.


Sir Wilful
The fashion’s a fool and you’re a fop, dear brother. S’heart, I’ve suspected this⁠—by’r lady I conjectured you were a fop, since you began to change the style of your letters, and write in a scrap of paper gilt round the edges, no bigger than a subpoena. I might expect this when you left off “Honoured brother,” and “Hoping you are in good health,” and so forth, to begin with a “Rat me, knight, I’m so sick of a last night’s debauch.” Ods heart, and then tell a familiar tale of a cock and a bull, and a whore and a bottle, and so conclude. You could write news before you were out of your time, 60 when you lived with honest Pimple Nose, the attorney of Furnival’s Inn. 61⁠—you could intreat to be remembered then to your friends round the reckan. 62 We could have gazettes then, and Dawks’s Letter, 63 and the Weekly Bill, 64 till of late days.


Petulant
’Slife, Witwoud, were you ever an attorney’s clerk? Of the family of the Furnivals? Ha! ha! ha!


Witwoud
Aye, aye, but that was but for a while. Not long, not long; pshaw, I was not in my own power then. An orphan, and this fellow was my guardian; aye, aye, I was glad to consent to that man to come to London. He had the disposal of me then. If I had not agreed to that, I might have been bound ’prentice to a feltmaker in Shrewsbury: this fellow would have bound me to a maker of felts.


Sir Wilful
S’heart, and better than to be bound to a maker of fops, where, I suppose, you have served your time, and now you may set up for yourself.


 Mrs. Marwood
You intend to travel, sir, as I’m informed?


Sir Wilful
Belike I may, madam. I may chance to sail upon the salt seas, if my mind hold.


Petulant
And the wind serve.


Sir Wilful
Serve or not serve, I shan’t ask license of you, sir, nor the weathercock your companion. I direct my discourse to the lady, sir.⁠—’Tis like my aunt may have told you, madam? Yes, I have settled my concerns, I may say now, and am minded to see foreign parts. If an how that the peace holds, whereby, that is, taxes abate. 65


 Mrs. Marwood
I thought you had designed for France at all adventures.


Sir Wilful
I can’t tell that; ’tis like I may, and ’tis like I may not. I am somewhat dainty in making a resolution, because when I make it I keep it. I don’t stand shill I, shall I, then; if I say’t, I’ll do’t. But I have thoughts to tarry a small matter in town, to learn somewhat of your lingo first, before I cross the seas. I’d gladly have a spice of your French as they say, whereby to hold discourse in foreign countries.


 Mrs. Marwood
Here’s an academy in town for that use.


Sir Wilful
There is? ’Tis like there may. 66


 Mrs. Marwood
No doubt you will return very much improved.


Witwoud
Yes, refined like a Dutch skipper from a whale-fishing.



Enter