LADY WISHFORT, MRS. MILLAMANT, MIRABELL, MRS. FAINALL, SIR WILFULL, PETULANT, WITWOUD, FOIBLE, MINCING, WAITWELL.
LADY. O daughter, daughter, 'tis plain thou hast inherited thy mother's prudence.
MRS. FAIN. Thank Mr. Mirabell, a cautious friend, to whose advice all is owing.
LADY. Well, Mr. Mirabell, you have kept your promise, and I must perform mine. First, I pardon for your sake Sir Rowland there and Foible. The next thing is to break the matter to my nephew, and how to do that -MIRA. For that, madam, give yourself no trouble; let me have your consent. Sir Wilfull is my friend: he has had compassion upon lovers, and generously engaged a volunteer in this action, for our service, and now designs to prosecute his travels.
SIR WIL. 'Sheart, aunt, I have no mind to marry. My cousin's a fine lady, and the gentleman loves her and she loves him, and they deserve one another; my resolution is to see foreign parts. I have set on't, and when I'm set on't I must do't. And if these two gentlemen would travel too, I think they may be spared.
PET. For my part, I say little. I think things are best off or on.
WIT. I'gad, I understand nothing of the matter: I'm in a maze yet, like a dog in a dancing school.
LADY. Well, sir, take her, and with her all the joy I can give you.
MILLA. Why does not the man take me? Would you have me give myself to you over again?
MIRA. Ay, and over and over again. [Kisses her hand.] I would have you as often as possibly I can. Well, heav'n grant I love you not too well; that's all my fear.
SIR WIL. 'Sheart, you'll have time enough to toy after you're married, or, if you will toy now, let us have a dance in the meantime; that we who are not lovers may have some other employment besides looking on.
MIRA. With all my heart, dear Sir Wilfull. What shall we do formusic?
FOIB. Oh, sir, some that were provided for Sir Rowland's entertainment are yet within call. [A dance.]
LADY. As I am a person, I can hold out no longer: I have wasted my spirits so to-day already that I am ready to sink under the fatigue; and I cannot but have some fears upon me yet, that my son Fainall will pursue some desperate course.
MIRA. Madam, disquiet not yourself on that account: to my knowledge his circumstances are such he must of force comply. For my part I will contribute all that in me lies to a reunion. In the meantime, madam [to MRS. FAINALL], let me before these witnesses restore to you this deed of trust: it may be a means, well managed, to make you live easily together.
From hence let those be warned, who mean to wed, Lest mutual falsehood stain the bridal-bed: For each deceiver to his cost may find That marriage frauds too oft are paid in kind.
[Exeunt Omnes.]
EPILOGUE--Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle.
After our Epilogue this crowd dismisses, I'm thinking how this play'll be pulled to pieces. But pray consider, e'er you doom its fall, How hard a thing 'twould be to please you all. There are some critics so with spleen diseased, They scarcely come inclining to be pleased: And sure he must have more than mortal skill Who pleases anyone against his will. Then, all bad poets we are sure are foes, And how their number's swelled the town well knows In shoals, I've marked 'em judging in the pit; Though they're on no pretence for judgment fit, But that they have been damned for want of wit. Since when, they, by their own offences taught, Set up for spies on plays, and finding fault. Others there are whose malice we'd prevent: Such, who watch plays, with scurrilous intent To mark out who by characters are meant: And though no perfect likeness they can trace, Yet each pretends to know the copied face. These, with false glosses, feed their own ill-nature, And turn to libel what was meant a satire. May such malicious fops this fortune find, To think themselves alone the fools designed: If any are so arrogantly vain, To think they singly can support a scene, And furnish fool enough to entertain. For well the learned and the judicious know, That satire scorns to stoop so meanly low, As any one abstracted fop to show. For, as when painters form a matchless face, They from each fair one catch some diff'rent grace, And shining features in one portrait blend, To which no single beauty must pretend: So poets oft do in one piece expose Whole BELLES ASSEMBLEES of coquettes and beaux.
