mentioned. You may read if you please—[holding out the parchment] though perhaps what is written on the back may serve your occasions.

Fain. Very likely, sir. What’s here? Damnation! [Reads.] “A deed of conveyance of the whole estate real of Arabella Languish, widow, in trust to Edward Mirabell.”—Confusion!

Mira. Even so, sir, ’tis the way of the world, sir; of the widows of the world. I suppose this deed may bear an elder date than what you have obtained from your lady.

Fain. Perfidious fiend! then thus I’ll be revenged.—

[Offers to run at Mrs. Fain.

Sir Wil. Hold, sir, now you may make your bear-garden flourish somewhere else, sir.

Fain. Mirabell, you shall hear of this, sir, be sure you shall.—Let me pass, oaf.

Mrs. Fain. Madam, you seem to stifle your resentment: you had better give it vent.

Mrs. Mar. Yes, it shall have vent—and to your confusion, or I’ll perish in the attempt.

SCENE XIV (The Last)

Lady Wishfort, Millamant, Mirabell, Mrs. Fainall, Sir Wilfull, Petulant, Witwoud, Foible, Mincing, Waitwell.

Lady. O daughter, daughter, ’tis plain thou hast inherited thy mother’s prudence.

Mrs. Fain. Thank Mr. Mirabell, a cautious friend, to whose advice all is owing.

Lady. Well, Mr. Mirabell, you have kept your promise—and I must perform mine.—First I pardon for your sake Sir Rowland there and Foible—the next thing is to break the matter to my nephew—and how to do that—

Mira. For that, madam, give yourself no trouble,—let me have your consent—Sir Wilfull is my friend; he has had compassion upon lovers, and generously engaged a volunteer in this action, for our service; and now designs to prosecute his travels.

Sir Wil. ’Sheart, aunt, I have no mind to marry. My cousin’s a fine lady, and the gentleman loves her, and she loves him, and they deserve one another; my resolution is to see foreign parts—I have set on’t—and when I’m set on’t, I must do’t. And if these two gentlemen would travel too, I think they may be spared.

Pet. For my part, I say little—I think things are best off or on.

Wit. I gad, I understand nothing of the matter,—I’m in a maze yet, like a dog in a dancing-school.

Lady. Well, sir, take her, and with her all the joy I can give you.

Milla. Why does not the man take me? Would you have me give myself to you over again?

Mira. Ay, and over and over again.—[Kisses her hand.] I would have you as often as possibly I can. Well, Heaven grant I love you not too well, that’s all my fear.

Sir Wil. ’Sheart, you’ll have time enough to toy after you’re married; or if you will toy now, let us have a dance in the meantime; that we who are not lovers may have some other employment, besides looking on.