SIR FOPLING FLUTTER
BY SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE
A dressing-room. A table covered with a toilet; clothes laid ready.
Enter DORIMANT in his gown and slippers, with a note in his hand, made up, repeating verses.
Now for some ages had the pride of Spain
Made the sun shine on half the world in vain.1
(Then looking on the note.)
'For Mrs. Loveit.' -- What a dull, insipid thing is a billet-doux written in cold blood, after the heat of the
|business is over! It is a tax upon good nature||5|
|of late; 'twill not be thought kind enough.||10|
HAND. Sir --
|DOR. Call a footman.||15|
HAND. None of 'em are come yet.
DOR. Dogs! Will they ever lie snoring abed till noon?
HAND. 'Tis all one, sir; if they're up, you indulge
|'em so they're ever poaching after whores all the||20|
DOR. Take notice henceforward who's wanting in his duty; the next clap he gets, he shall rot for an example. What vermin are those chattering without?
|HAND. Foggy3 Nan, the orange-woman, and||25|
DOR. Go, call in that over-grown jade with the flasket4 of guts before her; fruit is refreshing in a morning. Exit HANDY.
|It is not that I love you less||30|
Enter Orange-Woman [and HANDY].
-- How now, double tripe, what news do you bring?
OR. WOM. News! Here's the best fruit has come to town t'year; gad, I was up before four o'clock this
|morning and bought all the choice i'the market.||35|
DOR. The nasty refuse of your shop.
OR. WOM. You need not make mouths at it; I assure you, 'tis all culled ware.
DOR. The citizens buy better on a holiday in their
|walk to Totnam.6||40|
OR. WOM. Good or bad, 'tis all one; I never knew you commend anything. Lord! would the ladies had heard you talk of 'em as I have done! (Sets down the fruit.) Here, bid your man give me an
DOR. [to HANDY]. Give the bawd her fruit again.
OR. WOM. Well, on my conscience, there never was the like of you! -- God's my life, I had almost forgot to tell you there is a young gentlewoman lately come
|to town with her mother, that is so taken with||50|
DOR. Is she handsome?
OR. WOM. Nay,8 gad, there are few finer women, I tell you but so, and a hugeous fortune, they say.
|Here, eat this peach. It comes from the stone;9||55|
DOR. (taking the peach). This fine woman, I'll lay my life, is some awkward, ill-fashioned country toad who, not having above four dozen of black hairs on
|her head, has adorned her baldness with a large,||60|
OR. WOM. Gad, you'd change your note quickly if you did but see her.
|DOR. How came she to know me?||65|
OR. WOM. She saw you yesterday at the Change;12 she told me you came and fooled with the woman at the next shop.____________________
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Publication information: Book title: British Dramatists from Dryden to Sheridan. Contributors: George Henry Nettleton - Editor, Arthur Eillicot Case - Editor. Publisher: Boston ; Houghton Mifflin company,.. Place of publication: Boston; New York. Publication year: 1939. Page number: 159.