Witwoud Monologue from The Way of the World

From The Way of the World by William Congreve

male · sarcastic · 1:00 min

Well, well, he does not always think before he speaks. We have all our failings; you are too hard upon him, you are, faith. Let me excuse him,—I can defend most of his faults, except one or two; one he has, that’s the truth on’t,—if he were my brother I could not acquit him—that indeed I could wish were otherwise. (MIRA: Ay, marry, what’s that, Witwoud?) Oh, pardon me. Expose the infirmities of my friend? No, my dear, excuse me there. (FAIN: What, I warrant he’s unsincere, or ’tis some such trifle.) No, no; what if he be? ’Tis no matter for that, his wit will excuse that. A wit should no more be sincere than a woman constant: one argues a decay of parts, as t’other of beauty.

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