And this is the Sum of what you cou'd collect last Night.

PETULANT. The Quintessence. May be Witwoud knows more, he stay'd longer –– Besides they never mind him; they say any thing before him.

MIRABELL. I thought you had been the greatest Favourite.

PETULANT. Ay teste a teste; But not in publick, because I make Remarks.

MIRABELL. Do you.

PETULANT. Ay, ay, pox I'm malicious, Man. Now he's soft you know, they are not in awe of him –– The Fellow's well bred, he's what you call a –– What-dee-call–'em. A fine Gentleman, but he's silly withal.

MIRABELL. I thank you, I know as much as my Curiosity requires. Fainall, are you for the Mall?

FAINALL. Ay, I'll take a turn before Dinner.

WITWOUD. Ay, we'll all walk in the Park, the Ladies talk'd of being there.

MIRABELL. I thought you were oblig'd to watch for your Brother Sir Wilfull's arrival.

WITWOUD. No, no, he comes to his Aunts, my Lady Wishfort; pox on him, I shall be troubled with him too; what shall I do with the Fool?

PETULANT. Beg him for his Estate; that I may beg you afterwards; and so have but one Trouble with you both.

WITWOUD. O rare Petulant; thou art as quick as a Fire in a frosty Morning; thou shalt to the Mall with us; and we'll be very severe.

PETULANT. Enough, I'm in a Humour to be severe.

MIRABELL. Are you? Pray then walk by your selves, –– Let not us be accessary to your putting the Ladies out of Countenance, with your senseless Ribaldry; which you roar out aloud as often as they pass by you; and when you have made a handsome Woman blush, then you think you have been severe.

PETULANT. What, what? Then let 'em either shew their Innocence by not understanding what they hear, or else shew their Discretion by not hearing what they would not be thought to understand.

MIRABELL. But hast not thou then Sense enough to know that thou ought'st to be most asham'd thy Self, when thou hast put another out of Countenance.

PETULANT. Not I, by this Hand –– I always take blushing either for a Sign of Guilt, or ill Breeding.

MIRABELL. I confess you ought to think so. You are in the right, that you may plead the error of your Judgment in defence of your Practice.

 

Where Modesty's ill Manners, 'tis but fit

That Impudence and Malice, pass for Wit.

 

Exeunt.

 

 

Act II.

Scene I.

St. James's Park.

 

Enter Mrs. Fainall and Mrs. Marwood.

 

MRS. FAINALL. Ay, ay, dear Marwood, if we will be happy, we must find the means in our selves, and among our selves. Men are ever in Extreams; either doating or averse.