Scene X.

The Way of the World

by William Congreve

MRS. MARWOOD, MRS. MILLAMANT, MINCING.

MILLAMANT
Sure, never anything was so unbred as that odious
man. Marwood, your servant.

MRS. MARWOOD
You have a colour; what's the matter?

MILLAMANT
That horrid fellow Petulant has provoked me into a
flame--I have broke my fan--Mincing, lend me yours.--Is not all the
powder out of my hair?

MRS. MARWOOD
No. What has he done?

MILLAMANT
Nay, he has done nothing; he has only talked.
Nay, he has said nothing neither; but he has contradicted everything
that has been said. For my part, I thought Witwoud and he would have
quarrelled.

MINCING
I vow, mem, I thought once they would have fit.

MILLAMANT
Well, 'tis a lamentable thing, I swear, that one
has not the liberty of choosing one's acquaintance as one does one's
clothes.

MRS. MARWOOD
If we had that liberty, we should be as weary
of one set of acquaintance, though never so good, as we are of one
suit, though never so fine. A fool and a doily stuff would now and
then find days of grace, and be worn for variety.

MILLAMANT
I could consent to wear 'em, if they would wear
alike; but fools never wear out. They are such DRAP DE BERRI things!
Without one could give 'em to one's chambermaid after a day or
two.

MRS. MARWOOD
'Twere better so indeed. Or what think you of
the playhouse? A fine gay glossy fool should be given there, like a
new masking habit, after the masquerade is over, and we have done
with the disguise. For a fool's visit is always a disguise, and
never admitted by a woman of wit, but to blind her affair with a
lover of sense. If you would but appear barefaced now, and own
Mirabell, you might as easily put off Petulant and Witwoud as your
hood and scarf. And indeed 'tis time, for the town has found it, the
secret is grown too big for the pretence. 'Tis like Mrs. Primly's
great belly: she may lace it down before, but it burnishes on her
hips. Indeed, Millamant, you can no more conceal it than my Lady
Strammel can her face, that goodly face, which in defiance of her
Rhenish-wine tea will not be comprehended in a mask.

MILLAMANT
I'll take my death, Marwood, you are more
censorious than a decayed beauty, or a discarded toast:- Mincing,
tell the men they may come up. My aunt is not dressing here; their
folly is less provoking than your malice.