William Wycherley [Four Plays]. William Wycherley
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he has; 'tis not free and natural like yours.
Ran. He has more courage than wit, but wants neither.
Dap. As a pump gone dry, if you pour no water down you will get none out, so—
Ran. Nay, I bar similes too, to-night.
Dap. Why, is not the thought new? don't you apprehend it?
Ran. Yes, yes, but—
Dap. Well, well, will you comply with his sottishness too, and hate brisk things in complaisance to the ignorant dull age? I believe shortly 'twill be as hard to find a patient friend to communicate one's wit to, as a faithful friend to communicate one's secret to. Wit has as few true judges as painting, I see.
Ran. All people pretend to be judges of both.
Dap. Ay, they pretend; but set you aside, and one or two more—
Ran. But why, has Vincent neither courage nor wit?
Dap. He has no courage, because he beat his wench for giving me les doux yeux once; and no wit, because he does not comprehend my thoughts; and he is a son of a whore for his ignorance. I take ignorance worse from any man than the lie, because 'tis as much as to say I am no wit.
Re-enter Vincent.
You need not take any notice, though, to him what I say.
Vin. Ranger, there is a woman below in a coach would speak with you.
Ran. With me? [Exit Ranger.
Dap. This Ranger, Mr. Vincent, is as false to his friend as his wench.
Vin. You have no reason to say so, but because he is absent.
Dap. 'Tis disobliging to tell a man of his faults to his face. If he had but your grave parts and manly wit, I should adore him; but, a pox! he is a mere buffoon, a jack-pudding, let me perish!
Vin. You are an ungrateful fellow. I have heard him maintain you had wit, which was more than e'er you could do for yourself.—I thought you had owned him your Mæcenas.
Dap. A pox! he cannot but esteem me, 'tis for his honour; but I cannot but be just for all that—without favour or affection. Yet I confess I love him so well, that I wish he had but the hundredth part of your courage.
Vin. He has had courage to save you from many a beating, to my knowledge.
Dap. Come, come, I wish the man well, and, next to you, better than any man! and, I am sorry to say it, he has not courage to snuff a candle with his fingers. When he is drunk, indeed, he dares get a clap, or so—and swear at a constable.
Vin. Detracting fop! when did you see him desert his friend?
Dap. You have a rough kind of a raillery, Mr. Vincent; but since you will have it, (though I love the man heartily, I say,) he deserted me once in breaking of windows, for fear of the constables—
Re-enter Ranger.
But you need not take notice to him of what I tell you; I hate to put a man to the blush.
Ran. I have had just now a visit from my mistress, who is as jealous of me as a wife of her husband when she lies in:—my cousin Lydia—you have heard me speak of her.
Vin. But she is more troublesome than a wife that lies in, because she follows you to your haunts. Why do you allow her that privilege before her time?
Ran. Faith, I may allow her any privilege, and be too hard for her yet. How do you think I have cheated her to-night?—Women are poor credulous creatures, easily deceived.
Vin. We are poor credulous creatures, when we think 'em so.
Ran. Intending a ramble to St. James's Park to-night, upon some probable hopes of some fresh game I have in chase, I appointed her to stay at home; with a promise to come to her within this hour, that she might not spoil the scent and prevent my sport.
Vin. She'll be even with you when you are married, I warrant you. In the meantime here's her health, Dapperwit.
Ran. Now had he rather be at the window, writing her anagram in the glass with his diamond, or biting his nails in the corner for a fine thought to come and divert us with at the table.
Dap. No, a pox! I have no wit to-night. I am as barren and hide-bound as one of your damned scribbling poets, who are sots in company for all their wit; as a miser is poor for all his money. How do you like the thought?
Vin. Drink, drink!
Dap. Well, I can drink this, because I shall be reprieved presently.
Vin. Who will be so civil to us?
Dap. Sir Simon Addleplot:—I have bespoke him a supper here, for he treats to-night a new rich mistress.
Ran. That spark, who has his fruitless designs upon the bed-ridden rich widow, down to the suckling heiress in her pissing-clout. He was once the sport, but now the public grievance, of all the fortunes in town; for he watches them like a younger brother that is afraid to be mumped of his snip,[29] and they cannot steal a marriage, nor stay their stomachs, but he must know it.
Dap. He has now pitched his nets for Gripe's daughter, the rich scrivener, and serves him as a clerk to get admission to her; which the watchful fop her father denies to all others.
Ran. I thought you had been nibbling at her once, under pretence of love to her aunt.
Dap. I confess I have the same design yet, and Addleplot is but my agent, whilst he thinks me his. He brings me letters constantly from her, and carries mine back.
Vin. Still betraying your best friends!
Dap. I cannot in honour but betray him. Let me perish! the poor young wench is taken with my person, and would scratch through four walls to come to me.
Vin. 'Tis a sign she is kept up close indeed.
Dap. Betray him! I'll not be traitor to love for any man.
Enter Sir Simon Addleplot with the Waiter.
Sir Sim. Know 'em! you are a saucy Jack-straw to question me, faith and troth; I know everybody, and everybody knows me.
All. Sir Simon! Sir Simon! Sir Simon!
Ran. And you are a welcome man to everybody.
Sir Sim. Now, son of a whore, do I know the gentlemen?—A dog! would have had a shilling of me before he would let me come to you!
Ran. The rogue has been bred at Court, sure.—Get you out, sirrah. [Exit Waiter.
Sir Sim. He has been bred at a French-house, where they are more unreasonable.
Vin. Here's to you, Sir Simon.
Sir Sim. I cannot drink, for I have a mistress within; though I would not have the people of the house to know it.
Ran. You need not be ashamed of your mistresses, for they are commonly rich.
Sir Sim. And because she is rich, I would conceal her; for I never had a rich mistress yet, but one or other got her from me presently, faith and troth.
Ran. But this is an ill place to conceal a mistress in; every waiter is an intelligencer to your rivals.
Sir Sim. I have a trick for that:—I'll let no waiters come into the room; I'll lay the cloth myself rather.
Ran. But who is your mistress?
Sir Sim. Your servant—your servant, Mr. Ranger.
Vin.