ic] the play for this program, the way of the world by william congreve. special guest, miss anna russell. now, your host, mr. jose ferrer. characteristically, comedy is bound to the time, location and social context in which it is written. take for example william congreve's the way of the world, a late 17th-century restoration comedy. in 1642, with cromwell and the puritans in control of the government, parliament decreed that public stage plays "shall cease and be forborne." and so it was for the next 18 years

until charles ii was restored to the throne. he removed many imposed restraints and allowed theaters to reopen. for the first time on the english stage, women, not boys, played the roles written for women. those who had forsaken london for paris returned with new interest in fashions, court behavior and theater. theatrical conventions changed, and the written drama reflected the changed taste of these 17th-century citizens. the aristocratic audience of city dwellers in 1700 enjoyed the wit tailored to their special interest. it was a dazzling display of mainly verbal exchanges on society and particularly on the relations between husbands, wives and mistresses. this unsentimental group of pleasure seekers knew the rules: love is possible but should never be sentimental. another rule was money counts. don't bore people with your lack of it, but never forget its importance.

it really is needed for the expensive pleasures you enjoy. also, the money must be either inherited or married, never earned on the job. that would spoil the fun. another, act your age. if you forget and try to make an impression on someone younger, you deserve the ridicule of everyone who knows about it. and finally, what you say matters a lot less than the clever way in which you say it. there's not a sentimental note in any of this. not a shred of compassion or charity to worry about the less fortunate. the city was london and this tough-minded wisdom was considered the way of the world. to possess comic vision is an extraordinary gift. to express this vision comically calls for incredible ability. our guest is an exceptionally gifted comedienne who has created laughter throughout the world, anna russell. [applause]

congreve was a very jolly fellow who wrote quite a number of smash hit comedies. well, now, it's a funny thing about works like this that are written purely for entertainment and amusement, the creator finally dies and the period is past, and all of a sudden, it becomes classical. and it's taken over by possibly a snob minority who get so arty-crafty about the whole thing as to antagonize the audience for whom it was originally intended. in fact, you might get a program note. the plot of the way of the world is impossibly complicated,

but you don't have to bother with it in order to enjoy the comical moments and the splendid language. and i think this is perfectly ridiculous. the language is certainly very splendid and charming, but it's very obscure to us in our day and age. and so, how can you enjoy the comical moments if you don't know what on earth they're talking about? so later on, i thought we'd do it in plain talk and see how it comes off. to quote brooks atkinson, "all the characters are shallow, obscene, decadent and very artificial." in fact, a bunch of jerks. congreve is well aware of this. in the poem at the beginning of the play, which we're not going to get, he says in effect, "fortune does not smile on poor poets,"

himself i presume. "no matter how successful you've been in the past, "one flop and you've had it. "on the other hand, fortune smiles on nature's oafs. "no matter how ridiculous and stupid they become, they always seem to get away with it." and here is the cast. there's lady wishfort. she is an elderly, wealthy and rather silly dowager who's still looking for romance. today, she would be in the plastic surgery set. she is in love with mirabell, that's a fella. and then there's her nephew, sir wilful witwoud, who is a country bumpkin-type drunk, who's not the slightest bit interested in auntie's carryings-on.

then there is mirabell, who in spite of his name is very macho. he's had an affair with mistress fainall, who is the daughter of lady wishfort, and mistress marwood, and he's pretending to have an affair with lady wishfort, so as to get to her niece, millamant, who's in love with mirabell. but she's very fashionable and spoilt, and everybody is in love with her, including two rather silly fellows, witwoud and petulant, who, personally, i think are going with each other. and then there is fainall, a very disagreeable fellow, who is married to lady wishfort's daughter and having an affair with mistress marwood. lady wishfort controls millamant's fortune

and she can only have it if the old lady approves of her choice of husband. well, she's obviously not going to approve of mirabell because she wants him for herself. so this, of course, is the motivating gimmick. so here we have the play. [applause] ay, dear marwood, if we will be happy, we must find the means. men are ever in extremes, either doting or averse. while they are lovers, their jealousies are insupportable, and when they cease to love, they loathe. say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved. to refuse the sweets of life because they once must leave us is as preposterous as to wish to have been born old. for my part, my youth may wear and waste, but it shall never rust in my possession. then it seems you but dissemble an aversion to mankind.

certainly. bless me, how have i have been deceived? why, you profess a libertine. come, be as sincere, acknowledge that your sentiments agree with mine. never. you hate mankind? heartily, inveterately. your husband? most transcendently; ay, though i say it, meritoriously. give me your hand upon it. there. i join with you. what i have said has been to try you. is it possible? dost thou hate those vipers, men? oh, i have done hating 'em, and am now come to despise 'em. the next thing i have to do is eternally to forget 'em. there spoke the spirit of an amazon. though i'm sometimes thinking to carry my aversion further. - how? - faith, by marrying. if i could but find one that loved me very well, and would be thoroughly sensible of ill usage,

i sometimes think i should do myself the violence of undergoing the ceremony. you would not make him a cuckold? no. but i'd make him believe i did and that's as bad. why had not you as good do it? oh, if he should ever discover it, he would then know the worst and be out of his pain. i would have him ever to continue on the rack of fear and jealousy. oh, ingenious mischief. my dear. my soul. you don't look well today, child. do you think so? he's the only man that does, madam. the only man who would tell me so, at least. oh, my dear, i'm satisfied of your tenderness. i know you cannot resent anything from me. mr. mirabell, my mother interrupted you last night. i would fain hear you out. excellent creature.

well, sure, if i should live to be rid of my wife, i will be a miserable man. ay. for having only that one hope, the accomplishment of it must of consequence end all my hopes, and what a wretch is he who must survive his hopes. while i only hated my husband, i could bear to see him, but since i have despised him, oh, he's too offensive. oh, you should hate with prudence. yes, for i have loved with indiscretion. you should have just so much disgust for your husband as may be sufficient to make you relish your lover. why did you make me marry this man? why do we daily commit dangerous and disagreeable actions? to save that idle reputation. if the familiarities of our loves had produced that consequence of which you were apprehensive, where would you have fixed a father's name with credit

but on a husband? when you're weary of him, you know your remedy. i ought to stand in some degree of credit with you, mirabell. in justice to you, i have made you privy to my whole design, and put it in your power to ruin or advance my fortune. whom have you instructed to represent your pretended uncle, sir rowland? waitwell, my servant. oh, he is a humble servant to foible, my mother's woman, and may win her to your interest. care is taken for that. she is won and worn by this time. foible and waitwell were married this morning. so if my poor mother is caught in the contract, you will discover the imposture and release her by producing a certificate of her gallant's former marriage. yes, on the condition that she consent to my marriage with millamant and surrender the moiety of millamant's fortune in her possession. well, i have an opinion of your success, for i believe my lady wishfort

will do anything to get a husband. yes, i think the good lady would marry anything that resembled a man, though 'twere no more than what a butler could pinch out of a napkin. oh, female frailty. we must all come to it, if we live to be old. here comes your mistress. here she comes, i'faith, full sail, with fan spread and streamers out. you seem to be unattended, madam. you used to have the beau monde throng after you. oh, i have denied myself airs. today, i have walked forth through the crowd. dear millamant, why were you so long? long? lord, have i not made violent haste? i have asked every living thing i met for you. i have enquired after you, as after a new fashion. you were dressed before i came abroad. ay, that's true. oh, but then i had--mincing, what had i? why was i so long? oh, mem, your ladyship stayed to peruse a packet of letters. oh, ay, letters. i had letters.

i am persecuted with letters. i hate letters. nobody knows how to write letters. and yet, one has them, and one does not know why. they serve one to pin up one's hair. is that the way? pray, madam, do you pin up your hair with all your letters? i find that i must keep copies. only those written in verse, mr. mirabell. i never pin up my hair with prose. i fancy one's hair would not curl if it were pinned up with prose. i think i tried once, mincing. oh, mem, i shall never forget it. mirabell, did not you take exception last night? oh, ay, and went away. now, i think on't i'm angry--no. now, i think on't i'm pleased, for i believe i gave you some pain. - does that please you? - infinitely. you would affect a cruelty that is not in your nature. one's cruelty is one's power. and when one has parted with that, i fancy one's old and ugly. suffer one's cruelty to destroy one's lover. and then how vain, how lost a thing you'll be, for beauty is the lover's gift. 'tis he bestows your charms.

your glass is all a cheat. oh, the vanity of men. beauty the lover's gift. lord, what is a lover that it can give? why one makes lovers as fast as one pleases, and they live as long as one pleases, and they die as soon as one pleases. and then, if one pleases, one makes more. very pretty. fainall, let us leave these men. i would beg a little private audience, madam. you had the tyranny to deny me last night. - you saw i was engaged. - unkind. you had the leisure to entertain a herd of fools. how do you find delight in such society? i please myself. besides, sometimes to converse with fools is for my health. for your health. is there a worse disease than the conversation of fools? mirabell, if you persist in this offensive freedom, you'll displease me.

i think i must resolve after all not to have you. we shan't agree. i shan't endure to be reprimanded nor instructed. 'tis so dull to act always by advice, and so tedious to be told of one's faults, i can't bear it. well, i won't have you, mirabell. i'm resolved, i think. you may go. what would you give that you could help loving me? i'd give something that you did not know i could not help it. come, don't be grave then. well, what do you say to me? i say that a man may as soon make a friend by his wit or a fortune by his honesty, as win a woman with plain-dealing and sincerity. sententious mirabell. you are merry, madam, but i would persuade you for one moment to be serious. what, with that face? oh, no, if you keep your countenance, 'tis impossible i should hold mine. well, after all, there is something very moving

in a lovesick face. well, i won't laugh then. don't be peevish. heigho. now, i'll be melancholy, as melancholy as a watch-light. well, mirabell, if ever you will win me, woo me now. nay, if you're so tedious then fare you well. can you not in the variety of your disposition find one moment-- to hear you tell me foible is married and your plot like to speed? no. but how came you to know it? i shall leave you to consider. and when you have done thinking of that, think of me. gone. think of you?

to think of a whirlwind, though 'twere in a whirlwind, were a case of more steady contemplation, a very tranquility of mind and mansion. a fellow who lives in a windmill has not a more whimsical dwelling than the heart of a man that's lodged in a woman. i'm surprised to find your ladyship in deshabille at this time of day. foible's a lost thing. she's been abroad since morning and never heard of since. i saw her but now, in conference with mirabell. with mirabell? you call the blood into my face with mentioning that creature.

i sent her to negotiate an affair, in which if i'm detected, i'm undone. oh, madam, you cannot suspect mistress foible's integrity. oh, he carries poison in his tongue that would corrupt integrity itself. hark. i hear her. dear friend, dear marwood, retire into my closet, that i may dress with more freedom. you'll pardon me, dear friend, i can make bold with you. where hast thou been, foible? what hast thou been doing? madam, i have seen sir rowland. but what hast thou done? nay, 'tis your ladyship has done and are to do. i have only promised. a man so enamored, so transported. well, here it is, all that is left, all that is not kissed away. but hast thou not betrayed me, foible? hast thou not detected me to that faithless mirabell?

so that devil has been beforehand with me. what shall i say? alas, madam, could i help it if i met that confident thing? or if you heard how he used me and all upon your ladyship's account, ay, he had a fling at your ladyship too. me? what did the filthy fellow say? madam, 'tis a shame to say what he said, with his taunts and fleers and tossing up his nose. odds my life, i'll have him murdered. i'll have him poisoned. where does he eat? poison him? poisoning's too good for him. starve him, madam. starve him. marry sir rowland and get him disinherited. hmm, says he, i hear you are laying designs against me, says he, and mistress millamant is to marry my uncle. oh, he does not suspect a word of your ladyship. but, says he, i'll hamper you for that,

says he, you and your superannuated old frippery, too, says he, i'll handle you. audacious villain. handle me? would he durst? frippery? old frippery? i'll be married to sir rowland tomorrow, i'll be contracted tonight. oh, the sooner the better, madam. frippery? superannuated frippery? i'll frippery the villain. i'll reduce him to frippery and rags, a tatterdemalion. a slander-mouthed railer. i shall never recompose my features to receive sir rowland with any economy of face. that wretch has fretted me that i'm absolutely decayed. look, foible. your ladyship has frowned a little too rashly, indeed, madam. there are some cracks discernible in the white varnish.

let me see the glass. cracks, say'st thou? why, i am arrantly flayed. i look like an old peeled wall. thou must repair me, foible, before sir rowland comes, or i shall never keep up to my picture. i warrant you, madam, a little art once made your picture like you and now a little of the same art must make you like your picture. you see this picture has a sort of--aha, foible? a swimmingness in the eyes. yes, i'll look so. let my toilet be removed. i'll dress above. is he handsome? is sir rowland handsome? don't answer me. i won't know. i'll be surprised. i'll be taken by surprise. oh, by storm, madam. sir rowland's a brisk man, i'll vow. is he?

oh, he'll importune, if he's a brisk man. i shall save decorums if sir rowland importunes. oh, i'm glad he's a brisk man. let my things be removed, good foible. [bell rings] oh, foible, i have been in a fright, lest i should come too late. that devil, marwood, saw you with mirabell, and i'm afraid will discover it to my lady. discover what, madam? nay, put not on that strange face with me. i am privy to the whole design and know that waitwell, to whom thou wert this morning married, is to impersonate mirabell's uncle. i beg your pardon, madam. i thought the former good correspondence between your ladyship and mr. mirabell might have hindered his communicating the secr.

dear foible, forget that. dear madam, mistress marwood had told my lady wishfort, but i warrant you. i turned it all for the better. i told her that mr. mirabell railed at her. and now, my lady is so incensed she'll be contracted with sir rowland tonight, she says. i warrant you i worked her up so that he may have her for asking for, as they say of a welsh maidenhead. oh, rare foible. i beg your ladyship, acquaint mr. mirabell of his success. i would be seen as little as possible to speak with him. besides, i believe madam marwood watches me. she has a month's mind, but i know mr. mirabell can't abide her. john, remove my lady's toilet. madam, your servant. i fear my lady is so impatient that she'll come for me if i stay.

i'll go with you up the back stairs, lest i should meet her. indeed, mistress engine, is it thus with you? are you become a go-between of this importance? why this wench foible is the passe-partout, the very master-key to everybody's strong box. my friend mistress fainall. i thought there was something in it with mirabell, but it seems 'tis over with you. "madam marwood has a month's mind, but mr. mirabell can't abide her." 'twere better for mirabell if she had not been his confessor in that affair, without she could have kept his counsel closer. ah, i shall not prove a pattern of generosity and stalk for him. he has not obliged me to that. and now, i'll have none of him.

why, then, foible's a bawd, an errant, rank, match-making bawd. and i, it seems, am a husband, a rank husband, and my wife is a very errant, rank wife, all in the way of the world. 'sdeath, to be out-witted, to be out-jilted, to be out-matrimonied. if i had kept my speed like a stag, 'twere somewhat, but to crawl after, with my horns like a snail, to be outstripped by my wife, 'tis scurvy wedlock. then shake it off. you have often wished for an opportunity to part, and now you have it. but first prevent their plot. the half of millamant's fortune is too considerable to be parted with to a foe, to mirabell. damn him. that had been forfeited, had they been married. my wife had added luster to my horns with that increase of fortune. they may prove a cap of maintenance to you still, if you can away with your wife. the means, the means? discover to my lady wishfort your wife's conduct with mirabell. threaten to part with her. my lady loves her and will come to any composition

to save her reputation. and if she should flag in her part, i will not fail to prompt her. faith, this has an appearance. well, how do you stand affected towards your lady? why, faith, i'm thinking of it. let me see. i'm married already, so that's over. my wife has played the jade with me, so that's over, too. i never loved her, or if i had, why, that would have been over too by this time. jealous of her i cannot be, for i am certain. weary of her i am and shall be. no, there's no end of that. no, no, that were too much to hope. so much for my repose. now to my reputation, as to my own, well, i married not for it, so that's out of the question. and as to my part in my wife's, well, she had parted with hers before. and so bringing none to me, she can take none from me. 'tis against all rules of play that i should lose to one who has not the wherewithal to stake.

besides you forget, marriage is honorable. hmm. faith, and that's well said. marriage is, as you say, honorable and being so, wherefore should cuckoldom be a discredit, being derived from so honorable a root? if the worse come to the worst, i'll turn my wife to grass. i have already a deed of settlement of the best part of her estate, which i have wheedled out of her. that, you shall partake at least. i hope you are convinced that i hate mirabell now? you'll be no longer jealous? jealous? no, by this kiss, let husbands be jealous, but let the lover still believe, or if he doubt, let it be only to endear his pleasure and to prepare the joy that follows, when he proves his mistress true. but let husbands' doubts convert to endless jealousy. or if they have belief, let it corrupt to superstition and blind credulity.

i'm single. i'll herd no more with them. true, i wear the badge, but i disown the order. and since i am to leave 'em, i care not if i leave 'em a common motto to their common crest. all husbands must or pain or shame endure, the wise too jealous are, the fools too secure. is sir rowland coming, say'st thou, foible? and is all in order? yes, madam. i've put wax-lights in the sconces, and i placed the footmen in a row in the hall. and are the dancers and the music ready? all is ready, madam. and, well, how do i look? most killing well, madam. well, and how shall i receive him? in what figure shall i give his heart the first impression? there is a great deal in the first impression. shall i sit?

no, i won't sit. i'll walk. ay, i'll walk from the door upon his entrance, and then turn full upon him. no, that will be too sudden. i'll lie. ay, i'll lie down. i'll make the first impression on a couch. no. i won't lie neither. i'll loll and lean upon one elbow, with one foot a little dangling off, jogging in a thoughtful way. and as soon as he appears, i'll start and be surprised and rise to meet him in some disorder. there's nothing more alluring than a levee from a couch in some confusion.