Scene V.

The Way of the World

by William Congreve

LADY WISHFORT, FOIBLE.

LADY WISHFORT
O Foible, where hast thou been? What hast
thou been doing?

FOIBLE
Madam, I have seen the party.

LADY WISHFORT
But what hast thou done?

FOIBLE
Nay, 'tis your ladyship has done, and are to do; I
have only promised. But a man so enamoured--so transported! Well,
if worshipping of pictures be a sin--poor Sir Rowland, I say.

LADY WISHFORT
The miniature has been counted like. But hast
thou not betrayed me, Foible? Hast thou not detected me to that
faithless Mirabell? What hast thou to do with him in the park?
Answer me, has he got nothing out of thee?

FOIBLE
So, the devil has been beforehand with me; what shall
I say?- -Alas, madam, could I help it, if I met that confident thing?
Was I in fault? If you had heard how he used me, and all upon your
ladyship's account, I'm sure you would not suspect my fidelity. Nay,
if that had been the worst I could have borne: but he had a fling at
your ladyship too, and then I could not hold; but, i'faith I gave him
his own.

LADY WISHFORT
Me? What did the filthy fellow say?

FOIBLE
O madam, 'tis a shame to say what he said, with his
taunts and his fleers, tossing up his nose. Humh, says he, what, you
are a-hatching some plot, says he, you are so early abroad, or
catering, says he, ferreting for some disbanded officer, I warrant.
Half pay is but thin subsistence, says he. Well, what pension does
your lady propose? Let me see, says he, what, she must come down
pretty deep now, she's superannuated, says he, and -

LADY WISHFORT
Ods my life, I'll have him--I'll have him
murdered. I'll have him poisoned. Where does he eat? I'll marry a
drawer to have him poisoned in his wine. I'll send for Robin from
Locket's-- immediately.

FOIBLE
Poison him? Poisoning's too good for him. Starve
him, madam, starve him; marry Sir Rowland, and get him disinherited.
Oh, you would bless yourself to hear what he said.

LADY WISHFORT
A villain; superannuated?

FOIBLE
Humh, says he, I hear you are laying designs against
me too, says he, and Mrs. Millamant is to marry my uncle (he does not
suspect a word of your ladyship); but, says he, I'll fit you 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 to-morrow, I'll be contracted to-night.

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 pent-house, or a gibbet thief. A slander-mouthed railer! I
warrant the spendthrift prodigal's in debt as much as the million
lottery, or the whole court upon a birthday. 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.

LADY WISHFORT
Ay, 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
vernish.

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.