William Wycherley [Four Plays]. William Wycherley

       SCENE—London.

LOVE IN A WOOD;

       OR,

       ST. JAMES'S PARK.

       Table of Contents

ACT THE FIRST.

       Table of Contents

      SCENE I.—Gripe's House, in the evening.

      Enter Lady Flippant and Mrs. Joyner.

      Lady Flip. Not a husband to be had for money!—Come, come, I might have been a better housewife for myself, as the world goes now, if I had dealt for an heir with his guardian, uncle, or mother-in-law; and you are no better than a chouse, a cheat.

      Mrs. Joyn. I a cheat, madam!

      L. Flip. I am out of my money, and patience too.

      Mrs. Joyn. Do not run out of your patience, whatever you do:—'tis a necessary virtue for a widow without a jointure, in truly.

      L. Flip. Vile woman! though my fortune be something wasted, my person's in good repair. If I had not depended on you, I had had a husband before this time. When I gave you the last five pounds, did you not promise I should be married by Christmas?

      Mrs. Joyn. And I had kept my promise if you had co-operated.

      L. Flip. Co-operated! what should I have done? 'Tis well known no woman breathing could use more industry to get her a husband than I have. Has not my husband's 'scutcheon walked as much ground as the citizens' signs since the Fire?—that no quarter of the town might be ignorant of the widow Flippant.

      Mrs. Joyn. 'Tis well known, madam, indeed.

      L. Flip. Have I not owned myself (against my stomach) the relict of a citizen, to credit my fortune?

      Mrs. Joyn. 'Tis confessed, madam.

      L. Flip. Have I not constantly kept Covent-Garden church, St. Martin's, the playhouses, Hyde Park, Mulberry garden,[26] and all the other public marts where widows and maids are exposed?

      Mrs. Joyn. Far be it from me to think you have an aversion to a husband. But why, madam, have you refused so many good offers?

      L. Flip. Good offers, Mrs. Joyner! I'll be sworn I never had an offer since my late husband's.—If I had an offer, Mrs. Joyner!—there's the thing, Mrs. Joyner.

      Mrs. Joyn. Then your frequent and public detestation of marriage is thought real; and if you have had no offer, there's the thing, madam.

      L. Flip. I cannot deny but I always rail against marriage;—which is the widow's way to it certainly.

      Mrs. Joyn. 'Tis the desperate way of the desperate widows, in truly.

      L. Flip. Would you have us as tractable as the wenches that eat oatmeal, and fooled like them too?

      Mrs. Joyn. If nobody were wiser than I, I should think, since the widow wants the natural allurement which the virgin has, you ought to give men all other encouragements, in truly.

      L. Flip. Therefore, on the contrary, because the widow's fortune (whether supposed or real) is her chiefest bait, the more chary she seems of it, and the more she withdraws it, the more eagerly the busy gaping fry will bite. With us widows, husbands are got like bishoprics, by saying "No:" and I tell you, a young heir is as shy of a widow as of a rook, to my knowledge.

      Mrs. Joyn. I can allege nothing against your practice—but your ill success; and indeed you must use another method with Sir Simon Addleplot.

      L. Flip. Will he be at your house at the hour?

      Mrs. Joyn. He'll be there by ten:—'tis now nine. I'll warrant you he will not fail.

      L. Flip. I'll warrant you then I will not fail:—for 'tis more than time I were sped.

      Mrs. Joyn. Mr. Dapperwit has not been too busy with you, I hope?—Your experience has taught you to prevent a mischance.

      L. Flip. No, no, my mischance (as you call it) is greater than that. I have but three months to reckon, ere I lie down with my port and equipage, and must be delivered of a woman, a footman, and a coachman:—for my coach must down, unless I can get Sir Simon to draw with me.

      Mrs. Joyn. He will pair with you exactly if you knew all. [Aside.

      L. Flip. Ah, Mrs. Joyner, nothing grieves me like the putting down my coach! For the fine clothes, the fine lodgings—let 'em go; for a lodging is as unnecessary a thing to a widow that has a coach, as a hat to a man that has a good peruke. For, as you see about town, she is most properly at home in her coach:—she eats, and drinks, and sleeps in her coach; and for her visits, she receives them in the playhouse.

      Mrs. Joyn. Ay, ay, let the men keep lodgings, as you say, madam, if they will.

      Enter behind, at one door, Gripe and Sir Simon Addleplot, the latter in the dress of a Clerk; at the other, Mrs. Martha.

      L. Flip. Do you think if things had been with me as they have been, I would ever have housed with this counter-fashion brother of mine, (who hates a vest as much as a surplice,) to have my patches assaulted every day at dinner, my freedom censured, and my visitants shut out of doors?—Poor Mr. Dapperwit cannot be admitted.

      Mrs. Joyn. He knows him too well to keep his acquaintance.

      L. Flip. He is a censorious rigid fop, and knows nothing.

      Gripe. So, so! [Behind.

      Mrs. Joyn. [Aside.] Is he here?—[To Lady Flippant.] Nay, with your pardon, madam, I must contradict you there. He is a prying commonwealth's-man, an implacable magistrate, a sturdy pillar of his cause, and—[To Gripe] But, oh me, is your worship so near then? if I had thought you heard me—

      Gripe. Why, why, Mrs. Joyner, I have said as much of myself ere now; and without vanity, I profess.

      Mrs. Joyn. I know your virtue is proof against vainglory; but the truth to your face looks like flattery in your worship's servant.

      Gripe. No, no; say what you will of me in that kind, far be it from me to suspect you of flattery.

      Mrs.

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