Mrs. Fain. You are very fond of Sir John Suckling to-day, Millamant, and the poets.
Milla. He? Ay, and filthy versesso I am.
Foib. Sir Wilfull is coming, madam. Shall I send Mr. Mirabell away?
Milla. Ay, if you please, Foible, send him away,or send him hither,just as you will, dear Foible.I think Ill see him Shall I? Ay, let the wretch come.
Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train. [Repeating. Dear Fainall, entertain Sir Wilfullthou hast philosophy to undergo a fool, thou art married and hast patienceI would confer with my own thoughts.
Mrs. Fain. I am obliged to you, that you would make me your proxy in this affair; but I have business of my own.
[To them] Sir Wilfull.
Mrs. Fain. O Sir Wilfull; you are come at the critical instant. Theres your mistress up to the ears in love and contemplation, pursue your point, now or never.
Sir Wil. Yes; my aunt will have it so,I would gladly have been encouraged with a bottle or two, because Im somewhat wary at first, before I am acquainted[This while Milla. walks about repeating to herself.] But I hope, after a time, I shall break my mindthat is upon further acquaintance.So for the present, cousin, Ill take my leaveif so be youll be so kind to make my excuse, Ill return to my company
Mrs. Fain. O fie, Sir Wilfull! What, you must not be daunted.
Sir Wil. Daunted, no, thats not it, it is not so much for that for if so be that I set ont, Ill dot. But only for the present, tis sufficient till further acquaintance, thats allyour servant.
Mrs. Fain. Nay, Ill swear you shall never lose so favourable an opportunity, if I can help it. Ill leave you together, and lock the door.
Sir Wilfull, Millamant.
Sir Wil. Nay, nay, cousin,I have forgot my gloves.What dye do? Sheart, a has locked the door indeed, I thinkNay, Cousin Fainall, open the doorPshaw, what a vixon trick is this?Nay, now a has seen me toocousin, I made bold to pass through as it wereI think this doors inchanted
Press me no more for that slight toy.
Sir Wil. Anan? Cousin, your servant.
Milla. That foolish trifle of a heart Sir Wilfull!
Sir Wil. Yesyour servant. No offence, I hope, cousin. Milla. [repeating.]
Though thou dost thine, employst thy power and art.
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