[To them] PETULANT drunk.
       WITWOUD
       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.
       PETULANT
       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.
       WITWOUD
       Thou hast uttered volumes, folios, in less than decimo sexto, my dear Lacedemonian. Sirrah, Petulant, thou art an epitomiser of words.
       PETULANT
       Witwoud,--you are an annihilator of sense.
       WITWOUD
       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.
       PETULANT
       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.
       WITWOUD
       Thou dost bite, my dear mustard-seed; kiss me for that.
       PETULANT
       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.
       MILLAMANT
       Eh! filthy creature; what was the quarrel?
       PETULANT
       There was no quarrel; there might have been a quarrel.
       WITWOUD
       If there had been words enow between 'em to have expressed provocation, they had gone together by the ears like a pair of castanets.
       PETULANT
       You were the quarrel.
       MILLAMANT
       Me?
       PETULANT
       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.
       WITWOUD
       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.
       PETULANT
       Carry your mistress's monkey a spider; go flea dogs and read romances. I'll go to bed to my maid.
       MRS. FAINALL
       He's horridly drunk--how came you all in this pickle?
       WITWOUD
       A plot, a plot, to get rid of the knight--your husband's advice; but he sneaked off.

Prologue--Spoken by Mr. Betterton.
Dramatis Personae.
act i
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.
   Scene IV.
   Scene V.
   Scene VI.
   Scene VII.
   Scene VIII.
   Scene IX.
act ii
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.
   Scene IV.
   Scene V.
   Scene VI.
   Scene VII.
   Scene VIII.
   Scene IX.
act iii
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.
   Scene IV.
   Scene V.
   Scene VI.
   Scene VII.
   Scene VIII.
   Scene IX.
   Scene X.
   Scene XI.
   Scene XII.
   Scene XIII.
   Scene XIV.
   Scene XV.
   Scene XVI.
   Scene XVII.
   Scene XVIII.
act iv
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.
   Scene IV.
   Scene V.
   Scene VI.
   Scene VII.
   Scene VIII.
   Scene IX.
   Scene X.
   Scene XI.
   Scene XII.
   Scene XIII.
   Scene XIV.
   Scene XV.
act v
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.
   Scene IV.
   Scene V.
   Scene VI.
   Scene VII.
   Scene VIII.
   Scene IX.
   Scene X.
   Scene XI.
   Scene XII.
   Scene XIII.
   Scene the Last.
Epilogue--Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle.