What wou'd you give, that you cou'd help loving me?

MIRABELL. I would give something that you did not know, I cou'd not help it.

MILLAMANT. Come, don't look grave then. Well, what do you say to me?

MIRABELL. I say that a Man may as soon make a Friend by his Wit, or a Fortune by his Honesty, as win a Woman with plain Dealing and Sincerity.

MILLAMANT. Sententious Mirabell! Prithee don't look with that violent and inflexible wise Face, like Solomon at the dividing of the Child in an old Tapestry-hanging.

MIRABELL. You are merry, Madam, but I wou'd perswade you for one Moment to be serious.

MILLAMANT. What, with that Face? No, if you keep your Countenance, 'tis impossible I shou'd hold mine. Well, after all, there is something very moving in a love-sick Face. Ha, ha, ha –– Well I won't laugh, don't be peevish –– Heigho! Now I'll be melancholly, as melancholly as a Watch-light. Well Mirabell, If ever you will win me woe me now –– Nay, if you are so tedious, fare you well; – I see they are walking away.

MIRABELL. Can you not find in the variety of your Disposition one Moment –

MILLAMANT. To hear you tell me that Foible's married, and your Plot like to speed –– No.

MIRABELL. But how you came to know it –

MILLAMANT. Unless by the help of the Devil you can't imagine; unless she shou'd tell me her self. Which of the two it may have been, I will leave you to consider; and when you have done thinking of that; think of me.

 

Exit.

 

MIRABELL. I have something more –– Gone –– Think of you! To think of a Whirlwind, tho' 'twere in a Whirlwind, were a Case of more steady Contemplation; a very tranquility of Mind and Mansion. A Fellow that lives in a Windmill, has not a more whimsical Dwelling than the Heart of a Man that is lodg'd in a Woman. There is no Point of the Compass to which they cannot turn, and by which they are not turn'd; and by one as well as another; for Motion not Method is their Occupation. To know this, and yet continue to be in Love, is to be made wise from the Dictates of Reason, and yet persevere to play the Fool by the force of Instinct –– O here come my pair of Turtles – What, billing so sweetly! Is not Valentine's Day over with you yet?

 

Enter Waitwell and Foible.

 

Sirrah, Waitwell, why sure you think you were married for your own Recreation, and not for my Conveniency.

WAITWELL. Your Pardon, Sir. With Submission, we have indeed been solacing in lawful Delights; but still with an Eye to Business, Sir. I have instructed her as well as I cou'd. If she can take your Directions as readily as my Instructions, Sir, your Affairs are in a prosperous way.

MIRABELL. Give you Joy, Mrs. Foible.

FOIBLE. O las Sir, I'm so asham'd –– I'm afraid my Lady has been in a thousand Inquietudes for me. But I protest, Sir, I made as much haste as I could.

WAITWELL. That she did indeed, Sir. It was my Fault that she did not make more.

MIRABELL.