The character of Mirabell in The Way of the World from LitCharts | The creators of SparkNotes
and poses questions relating to how to make relationships work in an ever courtship of Millamant, Mirabell had an affair with Lady Wishfort's daughter, .. by advice, and so tedious to be told of one's faults: I can't bear it. Lady Wishfort's approval of their marriage is critical since she controls part of In return, Lady Wishfort agrees that Mirabell can marry his niece (Millamant). I say , by the wholesome advice of friends and of sages learned in the laws of this. Act 2 establishes the equality of [Mirabell's and Millamant's] relationship at a .. was dependent on A's advice, perhaps because A was a professional adviser or.
He also wrote two libretti. As a man of letters, he also was rewarded with government sinecures. He was given a post in Customs and, inwas made Secretary of Jamaica. With this patrimony, as well as revenue from theatre productions and some royalties, he made a comfortable living. Congreve never married, but he was fond of the actress, Mrs. Bracegirdle, who played leading roles in all of his plays, including the part of Mrs. Millamant in The Way of the World.
He was also the lover of the second Duchess of Marlborough and fathered her younger daughter, Lady Mary, who became Duchess of Leeds. When he died in at the age of fifty-nine, he left most of his estate to the Duchess of Marlborough. It still refers to the introductory material of a play that serves as a sketch of the characters or themes to appear.
It also can be an explanatory speech given by one of the characters, which is the case here. The Prologue also acts as both a tongue-in-cheek apology in advance and a taunt or challenge to the audience to find fault. Fortune is to born fools what surrogate mothers are to the offspring of cuckoo birds, known to lay their eggs in the nests of other birds. Poets, on the other hand, are like gamblers who get drawn into games with higher and higher stakes. Act 1 The major male characters appear in the first act, set in a chocolate house in London.
Two young men, Mirabell and Fainall, are playing cardsand Mirabell is losing. Millamant, rebuffed him the night before in the company of others. However, Lady Wishfort hates Mirabell for having pretended love to her while hiding his true designs to marry her niece.
Marwood, who, as the name intimates, is a spoiler, exposes the sham for reasons that appear later in the play. The misfortune of the lovers, the central conflict around which the action will revolve, is thus established early on. They are precious to him since he has studied them and knows them by heart. Again the conversation between Mirabell and Fainall reveals information about characters introduced later, in this case the bashful, obstinate, but good-natured Sir Wilfull.
He is compared to Witwoud whom Mirabell describes as a meddling fool but completely undiscerning about affronts directed at him. Enter Witwoud on cue who then demonstrates the nature of his wit in an amusing exchange among the three.
During the conversation, a coachman enters calling for Petulant and the audience finds that he has paid three ladies of indistinct reputations to call upon him to impress people with his own popularity. He also comes disguised in public places to call upon himself and leave messages for himself for the same reason.
When he enters the room, he is affecting to be put out by the intrusion of the ladies and tells the coachman he will not come.
The Way of the World/Act IV - Wikisource, the free online library
If Millamant and the uncle marry and have a child, Mirabell will be disinherited. And he will lose his love. Throughout the exchange, Witwoud admires Petulant, but Petulant proves himself oafish and ill-bred. The act ends with an imputation in the form of a rhyming couplet spoken by Mirabell: Act 2 The action takes place in St.
While they are talking, Fainall and Mirabell join them. Fainall seem tender toward one another, but when the two couples split, Fainall with Mrs. Fainall with Mirabell, it becomes plain that Fainall and Mrs. Marwood are having an affair and that Mirabell and Mrs. Fainall were once lovers. Marwood is offended and they quarrel. She threatens to broadcast their affair to the world and Fainall backs down.
Marwood breaks into tears and to hide her face, dons a mask just as Mirabell and Mrs.
The Way of the World
Fainall tells Mirabell how much she despises her husband. Fainall privy to his plot to have his servant, Waitwell, pretend to be his invented uncle Sir Rowland. The plan is to have Waitwell, in the guise of the invented uncle, profess love to Lady Wishfort. Once she is caught in a trap, she will promise her niece to Mirabell to save herself from embarrassment. The plot thickens, so to speak, when Mirabell also tells Mrs.
Fainall that he deliberately directed Foible to have Lady Wishfort announce in public that she would try and make a match between this invented uncle and Mrs. Millamant, his strategy being to secretly help Lady Wishfort keep her own marriage plans to the uncle a secret. The young lovers come together for the first time when Mrs.
Millamant enters the scene with her maid, Mincing, and her gallant follower, Witwoud. Witwoud bombards the gathered friends with a barrage of witticisms that demonstrate his tedious slavery to fashion and his silliness.
Mirabell cuts through the raillery by confronting Millamant about the previous night when she snubbed him. When Mirabell gets Millamant alone, he questions why she spends time with such fools as Witwoud and Petulant. Millamant accuses him of being tiresome and walks away, but not without first letting drop the hint that she knows all about his plot. As the act closes, Waitwell and Foible enter the scene, obviously enjoying their recent nuptials. Foible tells Mirabell how his plot is progressing.
Mirabell is happy with the report and gives her money. He promises her that her future will be secure if all goes well. Just as Foible is about to return to her mistress, she sees Mrs. Marwood go by disguised in her mask. He speaks the amusing closing line again in rhyming couplet that feigns grief over the fact that he must lose his title and yet keep his wife. Act 3 Finally Lady Wishfort appears. The scene is a room in her house.
In a fit of anxiety, Lady Wishfort tells Peg to bring the Ratifia after all. The exchange shines a light on the silly vanity and bawdy, colorful humor of the Lady. She indeed has reached the Lady before Foible and relates what she saw in St. When the Lady hears Foible entering, she bids Marwood hide in her closet so she can sound out her maid. Foible, however, is up to the task. She admits speaking to Mirabell, but only because he begged her.
She has a difficult time keeping her face together and must practically lay on the paint with a trowel. Their exchange ends with Lady Wishfort pondering how best to receive Sir Rowland. Fainall enters and tells Foible that she, too, is privy to the plot against her mother, Lady Wishfort. They discuss the details, not knowing that Mrs.
Marwood is still hiding in the closet. Fainall that she is afraid Mrs. Marwood is watching her and so she must be careful. Lady Wishfort enters and Mrs. The Lady and Foible exit to change for dinner. Millamant accuses Marwood of revealing to her aunt the secret love between her and Mirabell. Marwood taunts her, and Millamant pretends to be amused that Mirabell loves her so much that he has no use for the rest of the world, including Marwood.
Marwood says she hates Mirabell and Millamant merrily agrees that she does, too, although this is just to have another go at Marwood, who is older than her and still unmarried.Couples Therapy with Juan - David Lopez
Enter Petulant and Witwoud, who strive to showcase their combined wit in an amusing sally that further proves the aptness of their names. He roundly berates Witwoud for leaving the service of an attorney to become a professional dandy. Lady Wishfort and Fainall enter, and Lady Wishfort greets her guests. Mincing announces dinner and everyone exits except Mrs. Marwood and Fainall, who have been talking apart. She reassures Fainall that his wife had given up her affair before marriage and that he should be satisfied to stay with her as soon as he has got hold of all her money.
Marwood suggests a counter-plot: Tell Lady Wishfort that Mrs. Marwood admits that her idea of matching Millamant and Sir Wilfull may now be an obstacle to their plan, for if they should marry, Millamant will claim her rightful fortune. However, Fainall promises to get him drunk so that he will be unable to make proper advances. Marwood determines to write an anonymous letter to Lady Wishfort revealing all.
As they hear his coach approaching, Foible tells the Lady that Sir Wilfull is on his way toward getting drunk and the Lady anxiously sends Foible to bring Millamant and return so that she is not left alone long with Sir Rowland.
They exit and Mrs. Millamant and Fainall enter. Foible tells Millamant that Mirabell has been waiting to see her.
She hesitates coyly and then decides to receive him. Meanwhile, Sir Wilfull enters terribly drunk, and Mrs. He is unable to make any headway with Millamant. It is clear that he is no match for her intellect or sophistication, and she sends him away somewhat frustrated as Mirabell enters.
Mirabell finishes the Suckling verse that Millamant has been quoting, which alludes to the mythical romance between Phoebus and Daphne and, by extension, the two of them.
Millamant is outraged that he should think her capable of such behavior, and so they agree as Mrs. Fainall shares in their joy but hurries Mirabell out since her mother, the Lady Wishfort is on her way in. Millamant admits her love for Mirabell and conveys her disdain of Sir Wilfull. Apparently, Petulant has defended her beauty and his claim to it, but moodily he relinquishes her by his next remark: Fainall find his smell so offensive they exit the scene. After a third round of song, Foible enters to whisper to Lady Wishfort that her suitor is impatiently awaiting her.
Waitwell enters disguised as Sir Rowland and pretends to be mad with desire for her. The Lady is taken in by his advances. Sir Rowland, of course, is a gallant courtier, and he reassures the Lady that her honor is not suspect. Foible enters to tell her a letter has come for her and she exits. Lady Wishfort soon reappears with the letter. Lady Wishfort nearly faints.
Waitwell, however, quick on his feet, denounces the letter as the work of Mirabell. He vows to revenge himself but Lady Wishfort pleads with him to act sensibly. But Foible has the last word. Lady Wishfort, in some of the most colorful language of the play, is roundly dressing down Foible for her discovered part in the humiliating charade. She threatens to send her back to the streets where she found her, and Foible is desperately trying to defend herself.
Fainall cheers Foible by telling her that Mirabell is releasing her husband. Foible then reveals that Mrs. Marwood and Fainall have been having an affair. Fainall is surprised but quick to understand the opportunity this discovery allows.
Mincing enters and tells them that Lady Wishfort is waiting to see Foible and that Mirabell has freed Waitwell. Mincing delivers a message from Mirabell that Foible is to hide in the closet until Lady Wishfort has calmed down.
Mincing reports that Millamant is ready to marry Sir Wilfull to save her fortune. Fainall when she calls her. Mincing and Foible exit. Lady Wishfort and Mrs. Lady Wishfort thanks Marwood for her friendship and her timely discovery of the several plots against her. Fainall protests her innocence and claims that they have both been wronged.
Marwood takes offense and Lady Wishfort is embarrassed for her. But the clever and ambitious Mrs. Marwood regales her with scurrilous scenes of what will happen in court. The Lady shudders to think of what havoc such a course will wreck on her reputation and she backs down. Fainall enters and details the condition under which she must surrender her estate. The Lady asks for time to consider and Fainall grants her the amount of time needed to draw up the papers. He exits and Lady Wishfort is left to the cold comforts of Marwood who, she thinks, is still her friend.
Millamant and Sir Wilfull then enter with the news that they will wed. Lady Wishfort is greatly comforted that Millamant has nullified her contract with Mirabell, who waits to be admitted outside.
Lady Wishfort can not bear to see him, but Millamant persuades her by saying that he plans to travel with Sir Wilfull and never trouble her again. Sir Willful corroborates her statement and Marwood, who senses another plot, exits.
Sir Wilfull and Mirabell enter. Mirabell apologizes and Sir Wilfull acts as his supporter. Mirabell asserts that he has already done so. Despite her distrust of Mirabell, she is attracted. Marwood enter together, Fainall with the papers for the Lady to sign. But Fainall is undeterred. The Lady is overwhelmed by his generosity and agrees that he shall have Millamant if he can save her from Fainall. Fainall, Foible, and Mincing. They expose the affair between Marwood and Fainall, but Fainall still will not back down and stands on his threat to expose Mrs.
Enter Waitwell with the black box and soon after Petulant and Witwoud. The box contains Mrs. Fainall is forced to admit that the settlement he thought had been signed over to him is a fake. He tries to run at his wife with his sword but is stopped by Sir Wilfull. He exits vowing revenge. Marwood, who also warns that she will get even. Nothing remains but to celebrate the restored lovers and the truce between Lady Wishfort and Mirabell.
He restores the deed of trust to Mrs. The act ends with a quatrain warning against the evils of adultery. Bracegirdle, the actress who has played the part of Mrs. Millamant, speaks the closing lines of the play, which, according to comic convention, takes a satirical punch at drama critics.
While he is carrying on an affair with Mrs. As his name implies, he is a pretender, but one whose talent for getting along serves him well in society. Fainall is daughter to Lady Wishfort and heir to her fortune. Unfortunately, her mother raised her to hate and revile men. Thus, while she can hardly bear her husband, she has warm regards still for her former lover, whom she is compelled to relinquish before she is remarried to preserve her good reputation.
She is professed intimate friends with Mrs. Marwood until she learns that Mrs. She is a loyal friend to her cousin, Mrs. Millamant, whom she helps to obtain Mirabell as a husband. In so doing, she is also generous: Foible Foible is a simple yet quick-witted, dissembling yet good-hearted waiting woman to Lady Wishfort.
She nonetheless helps dupe the Lady by means of a clever yet harmless ploy hatched by Mirabell. Since her betrayal is in the cause of love, and since no one is injured only mildly embarrassedshe is forgiven in the end. Marwood Pretended friend to Mrs. Fainall and secret lover of her husband, Mrs. Marwood schemes to spoil the happiness of others to enrich herself. She almost succeeds in foiling the hoped-for marriage between the true lovers Mirabell and Millamant by exposing their love and so inciting the rage of Lady Wishfort who scorns Mirabell because he made false advances to her.
Although she pretends she hates him and all men, Marwood also likes Mirabell and is jealous of his attentions to Millamant. Of all the characters in this comedy of manners, Mrs. Marwood is perhaps the least sympathetic: Because she deliberately sets out to destroy the happiness of others, and because she is duplicitous in her friendships, she is finally despised as an adulteress and a traitor. She affects a coy demeanor, as well as disdain for the opposite sex. She is willful and witty in her own right and adeptly manages to steer clear of the convoluted plots and schemes that pack the action and threaten to undo most of the characters by their twists and turns.
Despite her good breeding, she is not above abiding fools for her own mischievous ends. Mincing Mincing is a somewhat affected yet dutiful and loyal waiting woman to Mrs. Fainall and extort from Lady Wishfort her entire estate.
Mirabell Mirabell is a clever, handsome, young, and headstrong gentleman of good manners who is the admirer of and persistent suitor to Millamant. He also is the former lover of Mrs. Fainall, and he is liked by Mrs. While once the object of desire, he is now the sworn enemy of Lady Wishfort for pretending love to her. While likeable, he is also ruthless in his exploitation of both servants and peers to get his own way.
But since nearly everyone benefits from his schemes, no one seems to mind, except Fainall and Marwood, whom he exposes at the end as perfidious and maladroit traitors. Mirabell is a proud, artful, and generous man of the world who knows he is suffering from a love sickness from which he cannot and does not want to escape.
Petulant This dandy and follower of Mrs. Millamant is every bit as rude and ill humored, as peevish and capricious, as the name would suggest. Friend to Witwoud, he is perceived by other characters to be the inferior wit of the two. He is illiterate and proud, boorish and vain. To give the impression that he is popular, he pays ladies of questionable virtue to call on him in public places, and he has also disguised himself precisely to call upon himself in public.
Millamant but really would just as soon sleep with his maid. His raillery is pure brilliance to Witwoud, but he is barely tolerated by people of any sensibility. Petulant is endowed with a brutal tactlessness but is unable to speak a truth since everything he says and does is a performance based on his mood at the moment. As a fool, he is rather more dour than deft. It is his gallant love act that places Lady Wishfort in the embarrassing and precarious position of being fooled once again by a suitor, and, by helping to place her at the mercy of her enemies, clears the way for Mirabell to extricate her.
Fainall and aunt to Mrs. Millamant, she holds the key to the money and the maid that will bring the action to its conclusion. She is the dupe of nearly everyone close to her, including her own daughter, and while she is in danger of loosing her fortune, she is more worried about damaging her reputation.
While she raises her daughter to hate men, she cannot be reconciled to life without them. And while she is at great pains to keep up appearances, her mighty constitution suffers all forms of indignities and humiliation, yet she is able to recover with some modicum of good grace and in the end forgive all.
Millamant and a pretended favorite of the ladies. But spare to speak and spare to speed, as they say. If it is of no great importance, Sir Wilfull, you will oblige me to leave me: I have just now a little business. Yes, yes, all a case.
When you're disposed, when you're disposed. Now's as well as another time; and another time as well as now. All's one for that. Yes, yes; if your concerns call you, there's no haste: I think this door's locked. You may go this way, sir.
Your servant; then with your leave I'll return to my company. Ay, ay; ha, ha, ha! Like Phoebus sung the no less am'rous boy. Like Daphne she, as lovely and as coy. Do you lock yourself up from me, to make my search more curious? Or is this pretty artifice contrived, to signify that here the chase must end, and my pursuit be crowned, for you can fly no further?
No—I'll fly and be followed to the last moment; though I am upon the very verge of matrimony, I expect you should solicit me as much as if I were wavering at the grate of a monastery, with one foot over the threshold. I'll be solicited to the very last; nay, and afterwards. What, after the last? Oh, I should think I was poor and had nothing to bestow if I were reduced to an inglorious ease, and freed from the agreeable fatigues of solicitation.
But do not you know that when favours are conferred upon instant and tedious solicitation, that they diminish in their value, and that both the giver loses the grace, and the receiver lessens his pleasure? It may be in things of common application, but never, sure, in love. Oh, I hate a lover that can dare to think he draws a moment's air independent on the bounty of his mistress.
There is not so impudent a thing in nature as the saucy look of an assured man confident of success: Ah, I'll never marry, unless I am first made sure of my will and pleasure. Would you have 'em both before marriage? Or will you be contented with the first now, and stay for the other till after grace? Ah, don't be impertinent. My dear liberty, shall I leave thee? My faithful solitude, my darling contemplation, must I bid you then adieu?
I can't do't, 'tis more than impossible—positively, Mirabell, I'll lie a-bed in a morning as long as I please. Then I'll get up in a morning as early as I please. Idle creature, get up when you will. And d'ye hear, I won't be called names after I'm married; positively I won't be called names.
Ay, as wife, spouse, my dear, joy, jewel, love, sweet-heart, and the rest of that nauseous cant, in which men and their wives are so fulsomely familiar—I shall never bear that. Good Mirabell, don't let us be familiar or fond, nor kiss before folks, like my Lady Fadler and Sir Francis; nor go to Hyde Park together the first Sunday in a new chariot, to provoke eyes and whispers, and then never be seen there together again, as if we were proud of one another the first week, and ashamed of one another ever after.
Let us never visit together, nor go to a play together, but let us be very strange and well-bred. Let us be as strange as if we had been married a great while, and as well-bred as if we were not married at all.
Have you any more conditions to offer? Hitherto your demands are pretty reasonable. Trifles; as liberty to pay and receive visits to and from whom I please; to write and receive letters, without interrogatories or wry faces on your part; to wear what I please, and choose conversation with regard only to my own taste; to have no obligation upon me to converse with wits that I don't like, because they are your acquaintance, or to be intimate with fools, because they may be your relations.
Come to dinner when I please, dine in my dressing- room when I'm out of humour, without giving a reason. To have my closet inviolate; to be sole empress of my tea-table, which you must never presume to approach without first asking leave. And lastly, wherever I am, you shall always knock at the door before you come in.
These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into a wife. Your bill of fare is something advanced in this latter account.
Well, have I liberty to offer conditions: You have free leave: IMPRIMIS, then, I covenant that your acquaintance be general; that you admit no sworn confidant or intimate of your own sex; no she friend to screen her affairs under your countenance, and tempt you to make trial of a mutual secrecy. I go to the play in a mask! ITEM, I article, that you continue to like your own face as long as I shall, and while it passes current with me, that you endeavour not to new coin it.
To which end, together with all vizards for the day, I prohibit all masks for the night, made of oiled skins and I know not what—hog's bones, hare's gall, pig water, and the marrow of a roasted cat.
In short, I forbid all commerce with the gentlewomen in what-d'ye-call-it court. ITEM, I shut my doors against all bawds with baskets, and pennyworths of muslin, china, fans, atlases, etc.
Ah, name it not! I denounce against all strait lacing, squeezing for a shape, till you mould my boy's head like a sugar-loaf, and instead of a man-child, make me father to a crooked billet. Lastly, to the dominion of the tea-table I submit; but with proviso, that you exceed not in your province, but restrain yourself to native and simple tea-table drinks, as tea, chocolate, and coffee.
As likewise to genuine and authorised tea-table talk, such as mending of fashions, spoiling reputations, railing at absent friends, and so forth.
But that on no account you encroach upon the men's prerogative, and presume to drink healths, or toast fellows; for prevention of which, I banish all foreign forces, all auxiliaries to the tea-table, as orange-brandy, all aniseed, cinnamon, citron, and Barbadoes waters, together with ratafia and the most noble spirit of clary. But for cowslip-wine, poppy-water, and all dormitives, those I allow. These provisos admitted, in other things I may prove a tractable and complying husband.
I toast fellows, odious men! I hate your odious provisos. Shall I kiss your hand upon the contract? And here comes one to be a witness to the sealing of the deed. Fainall, what shall I do? Shall I have him? I think I must have him. Ay, ay, take him, take him, what should you do? Well then—I'll take my death I'm in a horrid fright— Fainall, I shall never say it.
Well—I think—I'll endure you. Fie, fie, have him, and tell him so in plain terms: I think I have; and the horrid man looks as if he thought so too. Well, you ridiculous thing you, I'll have you. I won't be kissed, nor I won't be thanked. Mirabell, there's a necessity for your obedience: My mother is coming; and in my conscience if she should see you, would fall into fits, and maybe not recover time enough to return to Sir Rowland, who, as Foible tells me, is in a fair way to succeed.
Therefore spare your ecstasies for another occasion, and slip down the back stairs, where Foible waits to consult you. In the meantime I suppose you have said something to please me. I am all obedience. Yonder Sir Wilfull's drunk, and so noisy that my mother has been forced to leave Sir Rowland to appease him; but he answers her only with singing and drinking. What they may have done by this time I know not, but Petulant and he were upon quarrelling as I came by. Well, if Mirabell should not make a good husband, I am a lost thing: So it seems; for you mind not what's said to you.
If you doubt him, you had best take up with Sir Wilfull. How can you name that superannuated lubber? So, is the fray made up that you have left 'em?
I could stay no longer. I have laughed like ten Christ'nings. I am tipsy with laughing—if I had stayed any longer I should have burst,—I must have been let out and pieced in the sides like an unsized camlet. What was the dispute? They could neither of 'em speak for rage; and so fell a sputt'ring at one another like two roasting apples.
All's over, all's well? Gad, my head begins to whim it about. Why dost thou not speak? Thou art both as drunk and as mute as a fish. Millamant, if you can love me, dear Nymph, say it, and that's the conclusion—pass on, or pass off—that's all. Thou hast uttered volumes, folios, in less than decimo sexto, my dear Lacedemonian. Sirrah, Petulant, thou art an epitomiser of words. Witwoud,—you are an annihilator of sense. Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of remnants, like a maker of pincushions; thou art in truth metaphorically speaking a speaker of shorthand.
Thou art without a figure just one half of an ass, and Baldwin yonder, thy half-brother, is the rest. A Gemini of asses split would make just four of you. Thou dost bite, my dear mustard-seed; kiss me for that. Stand off—I'll kiss no more males—I have kissed your Twin yonder in a humour of reconciliation till he [hiccup] rises upon my stomach like a radish.
There was no quarrel; there might have been a quarrel. If there had been words enow between 'em to have expressed provocation, they had gone together by the ears like a pair of castanets. You were the quarrel. If I have a humour to quarrel, I can make less matters conclude premises. If you are not handsome, what then?
If I have a humour to prove it? If I shall have my reward, say so; if not, fight for your face the next time yourself—I'll go sleep. Do, wrap thyself up like a woodlouse, and dream revenge. And, hear me, if thou canst learn to write by to-morrow morning, pen me a challenge. I'll carry it for thee. Carry your mistress's monkey a spider; go flea dogs and read romances. I'll go to bed to my maid. He's horridly drunk—how came you all in this pickle? A plot, a plot, to get rid of the knight—your husband's advice; but he sneaked off.
Out upon't, out upon't, at years of discretion, and comport yourself at this rantipole rate! As I'm a person, I'm ashamed of you. How you stink of wine! D'ye think my niece will ever endure such a Borachio? You're an absolute Borachio. But if you would have me marry my cousin, say the word, and I'll do't.
Wilfull will do't, that's the word. Wilfull will do't, that's my crest,—my motto I have forgot. My nephew's a little overtaken, cousin, but 'tis drinking your health. If I drunk your health to-day, cousin,—I am a Borachio. If not, dust it away, and let's have t'other round.
We'll drink and we'll never ha' done, boys, Put the glass then around with the sun, boys, Let Apollo's example invite us; For he's drunk every night, And that makes him so bright, That he's able next morning to light us. The sun's a good pimple, an honest soaker, he has a cellar at your antipodes. If I travel, aunt, I touch at your antipodes—your antipodes are a good rascally sort of topsy-turvy fellows.
If I had a bumper I'd stand upon my head and drink a health to 'em. A match or no match, cousin with the hard name; aunt, Wilfull will do't. If she has her maidenhead let her look to 't; if she has not, let her keep her own counsel in the meantime, and cry out at the nine months' end. Your pardon, madam, I can stay no longer. Sir Wilfull grows very powerful. I shall be overcome if I stay. He would poison a tallow-chandler and his family. Beastly creature, I know not what to do with him.
Travel, quotha; ay, travel, travel, get thee gone, get thee but far enough, to the Saracens, or the Tartars, or the Turks—for thou art not fit to live in a Christian commonwealth, thou beastly pagan. No; no Turks, aunt. Your Turks are infidels, and believe not in the grape.
Your Mahometan, your Mussulman is a dry stinkard. My map says that your Turk is not so honest a man as your Christian—I cannot find by the map that your Mufti is orthodox, whereby it is a plain case that orthodox is a hard word, aunt, and [hiccup] Greek for claret. Let Mahometan fools And be damned over tea-cups and coffee. Go lie down and sleep, you sot, or as I'm a person, I'll have you bastinadoed with broomsticks.
Call up the wenches with broomsticks. Where are the wenches? Dear Cousin Witwoud, get him away, and you will bind me to you inviolably. I have an affair of moment that invades me with some precipitation. Pox on him, I don't know what to say to him.
Will you go to a cock-match? With a wench, Tony? Is she a shake-bag, sirrah? Let me bite your cheek for that.
He has a breath like a bagpipe. Ay, ay; come, will you march, my Salopian? Lead on, little Tony. I'll follow thee, my Anthony, my Tantony. Sirrah, thou shalt be my Tantony, and I'll be thy pig.