Scene I.

The Way of the World

by William Congreve

A room in Lady Wishfort's house.

LADY WISHFORT at her toilet, PEG waiting.

LADY
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?

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, 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.