[To them] PETULANT drunk.
Now, Petulant? All's over, all's well? Gad, my head begins
to whim it about. Why dost thou not speak? Thou art both as drunk
and as mute as a fish.
Look you, Mrs. Millamant, if you can love me, dear Nymph, say
it, and that's the conclusion--pass on, or pass off--that's all.
Thou hast uttered volumes, folios, in less than decimo sexto,
my dear Lacedemonian. Sirrah, Petulant, thou art an epitomiser of
Witwoud,--you are an annihilator of sense.
Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of
remnants, like a maker of pincushions; thou art in truth
(metaphorically speaking) a speaker of shorthand.
Thou art (without a figure) just one half of an ass, and
Baldwin yonder, thy half-brother, is the rest. A Gemini of asses
split would make just four of you.
Thou dost bite, my dear mustard-seed; kiss me for that.
Stand off--I'll kiss no more males--I have kissed your Twin
yonder in a humour of reconciliation till he [hiccup] rises upon my
stomach like a radish.
Eh! filthy creature; what was the quarrel?
There was no quarrel; there might have been a quarrel.
If there had been words enow between 'em to have expressed
provocation, they had gone together by the ears like a pair of
You were the quarrel.
If I have a humour to quarrel, I can make less matters
conclude premises. If you are not handsome, what then? If I have a
humour to prove it? If I shall have my reward, say so; if not,
fight for your face the next time yourself--I'll go sleep.
Do, wrap thyself up like a woodlouse, and dream revenge. And,
hear me, if thou canst learn to write by to-morrow morning, pen me a
challenge. I'll carry it for thee.
Carry your mistress's monkey a spider; go flea dogs and read
romances. I'll go to bed to my maid.
He's horridly drunk--how came you all in this pickle?
A plot, a plot, to get rid of the knight--your husband's
advice; but he sneaked off.