The Comedies of William Congreve Part 30

LORD FROTH. Oh, foy, don't misapprehend me; I don't say so, for I often smile at your conceptions. But there is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality than to laugh; 'tis such a vulgar expression of the pa.s.sion; everybody can laugh. Then especially to laugh at the jest of an inferior person, or when anybody else of the same quality does not laugh with one--ridiculous! To be pleased with what pleases the crowd! Now when I laugh, I always laugh alone.

BRISK. I suppose that's because you laugh at your own jests, i'gad, ha, ha, ha.

LORD FROTH. He, he, I swear though, your raillery provokes me to a smile.

BRISK. Ay, my lord, it's a sign I hit you in the teeth, if you show 'em.

LORD FROTH. He, he, he, I swear that's so very pretty, I can't forbear.

CARE. I find a quibble bears more sway in your lords.h.i.+p's face than a jest.

LORD TOUCH. Sir Paul, if you please we'll retire to the ladies, and drink a dish of tea to settle our heads.

SIR PAUL. With all my heart. Mr. Brisk, you'll come to us, or call me when you joke; I'll be ready to laugh incontinently.

SCENE V.

MELLEFONT, CARELESS, LORD FROTH, BRISK.

MEL. But does your lords.h.i.+p never see comedies?

LORD FROTH. Oh yes, sometimes; but I never laugh.

MEL. No?

LORD FROTH. Oh no; never laugh indeed, sir.

CARE. No! why, what d'ye go there for?

LORD FROTH. To distinguish myself from the commonalty and mortify the poets; the fellows grow so conceited, when any of their foolish wit prevails upon the side-boxes. I swear,--he, he, he, I have often constrained my inclinations to laugh,--he, he, he, to avoid giving them encouragement.

MEL. You are cruel to yourself, my lord, as well as malicious to them.

LORD FROTH. I confess I did myself some violence at first, but now I think I have conquered it.

BRISK. Let me perish, my lord, but there is something very particular in the humour; 'tis true it makes against wit, and I'm sorry for some friends of mine that write; but, i'gad, I love to be malicious. Nay, deuce take me, there's wit in't, too. And wit must be foiled by wit; cut a diamond with a diamond, no other way, i'gad.

LORD FROTH. Oh, I thought you would not be long before you found out the wit.

CARE. Wit! In what? Where the devil's the wit in not laughing when a man has a mind to't?

BRISK. O Lord, why can't you find it out? Why, there 'tis, in the not laughing. Don't you apprehend me? My lord, Careless is a very honest fellow, but harkee, you understand me, somewhat heavy, a little shallow, or so. Why, I'll tell you now, suppose now you come up to me--nay, prithee, Careless, be instructed. Suppose, as I was saying, you come up to me holding your sides, and laughing as if you would--well--I look grave, and ask the cause of this immoderate mirth. You laugh on still, and are not able to tell me, still I look grave, not so much as smile.

CARE. Smile, no, what the devil should you smile at, when you suppose I can't tell you!

BRISK. Pshaw, pshaw, prithee don't interrupt me. But I tell you, you shall tell me at last, but it shall be a great while first.

CARE. Well, but prithee don't let it be a great while, because I long to have it over.

BRISK. Well then, you tell me some good jest or some very witty thing, laughing all the while as if you were ready to die, and I hear it, and look thus. Would not you be disappointed?

CARE. No; for if it were a witty thing I should not expect you to understand it.

LORD FROTH. Oh, foy, Mr. Careless, all the world allows Mr. Brisk to have wit; my wife says he has a great deal. I hope you think her a judge.

BRISK. Pooh, my lord, his voice goes for nothing; I can't tell how to make him apprehend. Take it t'other way. Suppose I say a witty thing to you?

CARE. Then I shall be disappointed indeed.

MEL. Let him alone, Brisk, he is obstinately bent not to be instructed.

BRISK. I'm sorry for him, the deuce take me.

MEL. Shall we go to the ladies, my lord?

LORD FROTH. With all my heart; methinks we are a solitude without 'em.

MEL. Or what say you to another bottle of champagne?

LORD FROTH. Oh, for the universe not a drop more, I beseech you. Oh, intemperate! I have a flus.h.i.+ng in my face already. [_Takes out a pocket- gla.s.s and looks in it_.]

BRISK. Let me see, let me see, my lord, I broke my gla.s.s that was in the lid of my snuff-box. Hum! Deuce take me, I have encouraged a pimple here too. [_Takes the gla.s.s and looks_.]

LORD FROTH. Then you must mortify him with a patch; my wife shall supply you. Come, gentlemen, _allons_, here is company coming.

SCENE VI.

LADY TOUCHWOOD _and_ MASKWELL.

LADY TOUCH. I'll hear no more. You are false and ungrateful; come, I know you false.

MASK. I have been frail, I confess, madam, for your ladys.h.i.+p's service.

LADY TOUCH. That I should trust a man whom I had known betray his friend!

MASK. What friend have I betrayed? or to whom?

LADY TOUCH. Your fond friend Mellefont, and to me; can you deny it?

MASK. I do not.

LADY TOUCH. Have you not wronged my lord, who has been a father to you in your wants, and given you being? Have you not wronged him in the highest manner, in his bed?

MASK. With your ladys.h.i.+p's help, and for your service, as I told you before. I can't deny that neither. Anything more, madam?