Act IV

SCENE I.—[Scene continues]

Lady Wishfort and Foible.

Lady. Is Sir Rowland coming, say’st thou, Foible? and are things in order?

Foib. Yes, madam. I have put wax-lights in the sconces; and placed the footmen in a row in the hall, in their best liveries, with the coachman and postilion to fill up the equipage.

Lady. Have you pullvilled the coachman and postilion, that they may not stink of the stable, when Sir Rowland comes by?

Foib. Yes, madam.

Lady. And are the dancers and the music ready, that he may be entertained in all points with correspondence to his passion?

Foib. All is ready, madam.

Lady. And—well—and how do I look, Foible?

Foib. Most killing well, madam.

Lady. Well, and how shall I receive him? In what figure shall I give his heart the first impression? There is a great deal in the first impression. Shall I sit?—No, I won’t sit—I’ll walk—ay, I’ll walk from the door upon his entrance; and then turn full upon him—No, that will be too sudden. I’ll lye—ay, I’ll lye down—I’ll receive him in my little dressing-room, there’s a couch—yes, yes, I’ll give the first impression on a couch—I won’t lye neither, but loll and lean upon one elbow; with one foot a little dangling off, jogging in a thoughtful way—yes—and then as soon as he appears, start, ay, start and be surprized, and rise to meet him in a pretty disorder—yes—O, nothing is more alluring than a levee from a couch in some confusion—it shews the foot to advantage, and furnishes with blushes, and re-composing airs beyond comparison. Hark! There’s a coach.

Foib. ’Tis he, madam.

Lady. O dear, has my nephew made his addresses to Millamant? I ordered him.

Foib. Sir Wilfull is set in to drinking, madam, in the parlour.

Lady. Ods my life, I’ll send him to her. Call her down, Foible; bring her hither. I’ll send him as I go—When they are together, then come to me, Foible, that I may not be too long alone with Sir Rowland.


Mrs. Millamant, Mrs. Fainall, Foible.

Foib. Madam, I stayed here, to tell your ladiship that Mr. Mirabell has waited this half-hour for an opportunity to talk with you. Though my lady’s orders were to leave you and Sir Wilfull together. Shall I tell Mr. Mirabell that you are at leisure?

Milla. No—What would the dear man have? I am thoughtful, and would amuse myself,—bid him come another time.

There never yet was woman made,
Nor shall, but to be cursed

[Repeating and walking about.

  By PanEris using Melati.

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