The Way of the World(如此世道)

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The Way of the World

William Congreve

The Way of the World

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE RALPH, EARL OF

MOUNTAGUE, ETC.

My Lord,--Whether the world will arraign me of vanity or not, that I

have presumed to dedicate this comedy to your lordship, I am yet in doubt;

though, it may be, it is some degree of vanity even to doubt of it. One who

has at any time had the honour of your lordship's conversation, cannot be

supposed to think very meanly of that which he would prefer to your

perusal. Yet it were to incur the imputation of too much sufficiency to

pretend to such a merit as might abide the test of your lordship's censure.

Whatever value may be wanting to this play while yet it is mine, will

be sufficiently made up to it when it is once become your lordship's; and it

is my security, that I cannot have overrated it more by my dedication than

your lordship will dignify it by your patronage.

That it succeeded on the stage was almost beyond my expectation; for

but little of it was prepared for that general taste which seems now to be

predominant in the palates of our audience.

Those characters which are meant to be ridiculed in most of our

comedies are of fools so gross, that in my humble opinion they should

rather disturb than divert the well-natured and reflecting part of an

audience; they are rather objects of charity than contempt, and instead of

moving our mirth, they ought very often to excite our compassion.

This reflection moved me to design some characters which should

appear ridiculous not so much through a natural folly (which is

incorrigible, and therefore not proper for the stage) as through an affected

wit: a wit which, at the same time that it is affected, is also false. As there

is some difficulty in the formation of a character of this nature, so there is

some hazard which attends the progress of its success upon the stage: for

many come to a play so overcharged with criticism, that they very often let

fly their censure, when through their rashness they have mistaken their

aim. This I had occasion lately to observe: for this play had been acted two

or three days before some of these hasty judges could find the leisure to

distinguish betwixt the character of a Witwoud and a Truewit.

I must beg your lordship's pardon for this digression from the true

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course of this epistle; but that it may not seem altogether impertinent, I

beg that I may plead the occasion of it, in part of that excuse of which I

stand in need, for recommending this comedy to your protection. It is only

by the countenance of your lordship, and the FEW so qualified, that such

who write with care and pains can hope to be distinguished: for the

prostituted name of poet promiscuously levels all that bear it.

Terence, the most correct writer in the world, had a Scipio and a Lelius,

if not to assist him, at least to support him in his reputation. And

notwithstanding his extraordinary merit, it may be their countenance was

not more than necessary.

The purity of his style, the delicacy of his turns, and the justness of his

characters, were all of them beauties which the greater part of his audience

were incapable of tasting. Some of the coarsest strokes of Plautus, so

severely censured by Horace, were more likely to affect the multitude;

such, who come with expectation to laugh at the last act of a play, and are

better entertained with two or three unseasonable jests than with the artful

solution of the fable.

As Terence excelled in his performances, so had he great advantages to

encourage his undertakings, for he built most on the foundations of

Menander: his plots were generally modelled, and his characters ready

drawn to his hand. He copied Menander; and Menander had no less light

in the formation of his characters from the observations of Theophrastus,

of whom he was a disciple; and Theophrastus, it is known, was not only

the disciple, but the immediate successor of Aristotle, the first and greatest

judge of poetry. These were great models to design by; and the further

advantage which Terence possessed towards giving his plays the due

ornaments of purity of style, and justness of manners, was not less

considerable from the freedom of conversation which was permitted him

with Lelius and Scipio, two of the greatest and most polite men of his age.

And, indeed, the privilege of such a conversation is the only certain means

of attaining to the perfection of dialogue.

If it has happened in any part of this comedy that I have gained a turn

of style or expression more correct, or at least more corrigible, than in

those which I have formerly written, I must, with equal pride and gratitude,

The Way of the World

ascribe it to the honour of your lordship's admitting me into your

conversation, and that of a society where everybody else was so well

worthy of you, in your retirement last summer from the town: for it was

immediately after, that this comedy was written. If I have failed in my

performance, it is only to be regretted, where there were so many not

inferior either to a Scipio or a Lelius, that there should be one wanting

equal in capacity to a Terence.

If I am not mistaken, poetry is almost the only art which has not yet

laid claim to your lordship's patronage. Architecture and painting, to the

great honour of our country, have flourished under your influence and

protection. In the meantime, poetry, the eldest sister of all arts, and parent

of most, seems to have resigned her birthright, by having neglected to pay

her duty to your lordship, and by permitting others of a later extraction to

prepossess that place in your esteem, to which none can pretend a better

title. Poetry, in its nature, is sacred to the good and great: the relation

between them is reciprocal, and they are ever propitious to it. It is the

privilege of poetry to address them, and it is their prerogative alone to give

it protection.

This received maxim is a general apology for all writers who

consecrate their labours to great men: but I could wish, at this time, that

this address were exempted from the common pretence of all dedications;

and that as I can distinguish your lordship even among the most deserving,

so this offering might become remarkable by some particular instance of

respect, which should assure your lordship that I am, with all due sense of

your extreme worthiness and humanity, my lord, your lordship's most

obedient and most obliged humble servant, WILL. CONGREVE.

The Way of the World

PROLOGUE--Spoken by Mr.

Betterton.

Of those few fools, who with ill stars are curst, Sure scribbling fools,

called poets, fare the worst: For they're a sort of fools which fortune

makes, And, after she has made 'em fools, forsakes. With Nature's oafs 'tis

quite a diff'rent case, For Fortune favours all her idiot race. In her own

nest the cuckoo eggs we find, O'er which she broods to hatch the

changeling kind: No portion for her own she has to spare, So much she

dotes on her adopted care.

Poets are bubbles, by the town drawn in, Suffered at first some trifling

stakes to win: But what unequal hazards do they run! Each time they write

they venture all they've won: The Squire that's buttered still, is sure to be

undone. This author, heretofore, has found your favour, But pleads no

merit from his past behaviour. To build on that might prove a vain

presumption, Should grants to poets made admit resumption, And in

Parnassus he must lose his seat, If that be found a forfeited estate.

He owns, with toil he wrought the following scenes, But if they're

naught ne'er spare him for his pains: Damn him the more; have no

commiseration For dulness on mature deliberation. He swears he'll not

resent one hissed-off scene, Nor, like those peevish wits, his play maintain,

Who, to assert their sense, your taste arraign. Some plot we think he has,

and some new thought; Some humour too, no farce--but that's a fault.

Satire, he thinks, you ought not to expect; For so reformed a town who

dares correct? To please, this time, has been his sole pretence, He'll not

instruct, lest it should give offence. Should he by chance a knave or fool

expose, That hurts none here, sure here are none of those. In short, our

play shall (with your leave to show it) Give you one instance of a passive

poet, Who to your judgments yields all resignation: So save or damn, after

your own discretion.

The Way of the World

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MEN.

FAINALL, in love with Mrs. Marwood,--Mr. Betterton MIRABELL,

in love with Mrs. Millamant,--Mr. Verbruggen WITWOUD, follower of

Mrs. Millamant,--Mr. Bowen PETULANT, follower of Mrs. Millamant,--

Mr. Bowman SIR WILFULL WITWOUD, half brother to Witwoud, and

nephew to Lady Wishfort,--Mr. Underhill WAITWELL, servant to

Mirabell,--Mr. Bright

WOMEN.

LADY WISHFORT, enemy to Mirabell, for having falsely pretended

love to her,--Mrs. Leigh MRS. MILLAMANT, a fine lady, niece to Lady

Wishfort, and loves Mirabell,--Mrs. Bracegirdle MRS. MARWOOD,

friend to Mr. Fainall, and likes Mirabell,--Mrs. Barry MRS. FAINALL,

daughter to Lady Wishfort, and wife to Fainall, formerly friend to

Mirabell,--Mrs. Bowman FOIBLE, woman to Lady Wishfort,--Mrs. Willis

MINCING, woman to Mrs. Millamant,--Mrs. Prince DANCERS,

FOOTMEN, ATTENDANTS.

The Way of the World

SCENE: London.

The time equal to that of the presentation.

The Way of the World

ACT I.

The Way of the World

SCENE I.

A Chocolate-house.

MIRABELL and FAINALL rising from cards. BETTY waiting.

MIRA. You are a fortunate man, Mr. Fainall.

FAIN. Have we done?

MIRA. What you please. I'll play on to entertain you.

FAIN. No, I'll give you your revenge another time, when you are not

so indifferent; you are thinking of something else now, and play too

negligently: the coldness of a losing gamester lessens the pleasure of the

winner. I'd no more play with a man that slighted his ill fortune than I'd

make love to a woman who undervalued the loss of her reputation.

MIRA. You have a taste extremely delicate, and are for refining on

your pleasures.

FAIN. Prithee, why so reserved? Something has put you out of

humour.

MIRA. Not at all: I happen to be grave to-day, and you are gay; that's

all.

FAIN. Confess, Millamant and you quarrelled last night, after I left

you; my fair cousin has some humours that would tempt the patience of a

Stoic. What, some coxcomb came in, and was well received by her, while

you were by?

MIRA. Witwoud and Petulant, and what was worse, her aunt, your

wife's mother, my evil genius--or to sum up all in her own name, my old

Lady Wishfort came in.

FAIN. Oh, there it is then: she has a lasting passion for you, and with

reason.--What, then my wife was there?

MIRA. Yes, and Mrs. Marwood and three or four more, whom I never

saw before; seeing me, they all put on their grave faces, whispered one

another, then complained aloud of the vapours, and after fell into a

profound silence.

FAIN. They had a mind to be rid of you.

MIRA. For which reason I resolved not to stir. At last the good old

The Way of the World

lady broke through her painful taciturnity with an invective against long

visits. I would not have understood her, but Millamant joining in the

argument, I rose and with a constrained smile told her, I thought nothing

was so easy as to know when a visit began to be troublesome; she

reddened and I withdrew, without expecting her reply.

FAIN. You were to blame to resent what she spoke only in compliance

with her aunt.

MIRA. She is more mistress of herself than to be under the necessity

of such a resignation.

FAIN. What? though half her fortune depends upon her marrying with

my lady's approbation?

MIRA. I was then in such a humour, that I should have been better

pleased if she had been less discreet.

FAIN. Now I remember, I wonder not they were weary of you; last

night was one of their cabal-nights: they have 'em three times a week and

meet by turns at one another's apartments, where they come together like

the coroner's inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.

You and I are excluded, and it was once proposed that all the male sex

should be excepted; but somebody moved that to avoid scandal there

might be one man of the community, upon which motion Witwoud and

Petulant were enrolled members.

MIRA. And who may have been the foundress of this sect? My Lady

Wishfort, I warrant, who publishes her detestation of mankind, and full of

the vigour of fifty-five, declares for a friend and ratafia; and let posterity

shift for itself, she'll breed no more.

FAIN. The discovery of your sham addresses to her, to conceal your

love to her niece, has provoked this separation. Had you dissembled better,

things might have continued in the state of nature.

MIRA. I did as much as man could, with any reasonable conscience; I

proceeded to the very last act of flattery with her, and was guilty of a song

in her commendation. Nay, I got a friend to put her into a lampoon, and

compliment her with the imputation of an affair with a young fellow,

which I carried so far, that I told her the malicious town took notice that

she was grown fat of a sudden; and when she lay in of a dropsy, persuaded

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TheWayoftheWorld1TheWayoftheWorldWilliamCongreveTheWayoftheWorld2TOTHERIGHTHONOURABLERALPH,EARLOFMOUNTAGUE,ETC.MyLord,--Whethertheworldwillarraignmeofvanityornot,thatIhavepresumedtodedicatethiscomedytoyourlordship,Iamyetindoubt;though,itmaybe,itissomedegreeofvanityeventodoubtofit.Onewhohasatanytimeh...

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