![William Wycherley [Four Plays] - William Wycherley](/cover_866146.jpg "William Wycherley [Four Plays] - William Wycherley")
For lovers.
Dap. And for the Muses.
Ran. When I was a boy I loved the night so well, I had a strong vocation to be a bellman's apprentice.
Vin. I, a drawer.
Dap. And I, to attend the waits of Westminster, let me perish!
Ran. But why do we not do the duty of this and such other places;—walk, censure, and speak ill of all we meet?
Dap. 'Tis no fault of mine, let me perish!
Vin. Fy, fy! satirical gentlemen, this is not your time; you cannot distinguish a friend from a fop.
Dap. No matter, no matter; they will deserve amongst 'em the worst we can say.
Ran. Who comes here, Dapperwit? [People walk slowly over the stage.
Dap. By the toss of his head, training of his feet, and his elbows playing at bo-peep behind his back, it should be my Lord Easy.
Ran. And who the woman?
Dap. My Lord what-d'ye-call's daughter, that had a child by—
Vin. Dapperwit, hold your tongue.
Ran. How! are you concerned?
Vin. Her brother's an honest fellow, and will drink his glass.
Ran. Prithee, Vincent, Dapperwit did not hinder drinking to-night, though he spake against it; why, then, should you interrupt his sport?—Now, let him talk of anybody.
Vin. So he will—till you cut his throat.
Ran. Why should you on all occasions thwart him, contemn him, and maliciously look grave at his jests only?
Vin. Why does he always rail against my friends, then, and my best friend—a beer-glass?
Ran. Dapperwit, be your own advocate: my game, I think, is before me there. [Exit.
Dap. This Ranger, I think, has all the ill qualities of all your town fops;—leaving his company for a spruce lord or a wench.
Vin. Nay, if you must rail at your own best friends, I may forgive you railing at mine.
Enter Lydia and Lady Flippant.—They walk over the stage.
Lyd. False Ranger, shall I find thee here? [Aside.
Vin. Those are women, are they not? [To Dapper.
Dap. The least seems to be my Lucy, sure. [Aside.
Vin. Faith, I think I dare speak to a woman in the dark!—let's try.
Dap. They are persons of quality of my acquaintance;—hold!
Vin. Nay, if they are persons of quality of your acquaintance, I may be the bolder with 'em. [The Ladies go off, they follow them.
Re-enter Lydia and Lady Flippant.
Lyd. I come hither to make a discovery to-night.
L. Flip. Of my love to you, certainly; for nobody but you could have debauched me to the Park, certainly. I would not return another night, if it were to redeem my dear husband from his grave.
Lyd. I believe you:—but to get another, widow.
L. Flip. Another husband, another husband, foh!
Lyd. There does not pass a night here but many a match is made.
L. Flip. That a woman of honour should have the word match in her mouth!—but I hope, madam, the fellows do not make honourable love here, do they? I abominate honourable love, upon my honour.
Lyd. If they should make honourable love here, I know you would prevent 'em.
Re-enter Vincent and Dapperwit.—They walk slowly towards the Ladies.
But here come two men will inform you what to do.
L. Flip. Do they come?—are they men certainly?
Lyd. Prepare for an assault, they'll put you to't.
L. Flip. Will they put us to't certainly? I was never put to't yet. If they should put us to't, I should drop down, down, certainly.
Lyd. I believe, truly, you would not have power to run away.
L. Flip. Therefore I will not stay the push.—They come! they come! oh, the fellows come! [Lady Flippant runs away, Lydia follows, and Vincent and Dapperwit after them.
Re-enter Lady Flippant at the other side, alone.
L. Flip. So! I am got off clear! I did not run from the men, but my companion. For all their brags, men have hardly courage to set upon us when our number is equal; now they shall see I defy 'em:—for we women have always most courage when we are alone. But, a pox! the lazy rogues come not! or they are drunk and cannot run. Oh drink! abominable drink! instead of inflaming love, it quenches it; and for one lover it encourages, it makes a thousand impotent. Curse on all wine! even Rhenish wine and sugar—
Enter Sir Simon Addleplot, muffled in a cloak.
But fortune will not see me want; here comes a single bully—I wish he may stand;—
For now a-nights the jostling nymph is bolder
Than modern satyr with his cloak o'er shoulder.
Well met, sir. [She puts on her mask.
Sir Sim. How shall I know that, forsooth? Who are you? do you know me?
L. Flip. Who are you? don't you know me?
Sir Sim. Not I, faith and troth!
L. Flip. I am glad on't; for no man e'er liked a woman the better for having known her before.
Sir Sim. Ay, but then one can't be so free with a new acquaintance as with an old one; she may deny one the civility.
L. Flip. Not till you ask her.
Sir Sim. But I am afraid to be denied.
L. Flip. Let me tell you, sir, you cannot disoblige us women more than in distrusting us.
Sir Sim. Pish! what should one ask for, when you know one's meaning?—but shall I deal freely with you?
L. Flip.
