The Libertine (NHB Modern Plays)

She is in her teens, dark with strong features.

Now. Ladies. An announcement. (Looks around.) I am up for it. All the time. That’s not a boast. Or an opinion. It is bone-hard medical fact. I put it around, d’y’know? And you will watch me putting it around and sigh for it. Don’t. It is a deal of trouble for you and you are better off watching and drawing your conclusions from a distance than you would be if I got my tarse pointing up your petticoats. Gentlemen. (Looks around.) Do not despair, I am up for that as well. When the mood is on me. And the same warning applies.

My most neglected wife, till you are a m

r it on the floor. Close to the end of the bottle, he repents and tries to bring the bottle to his lips. MALET is quickly beside

to paint it for me sometime. You see that monkey yonder, dancing with the organ-grinder. If you have observ

George, what more can be said of him?
To Etherege
I drink a pledge
His life has run the gamut:
He’s penned naught good
Since She Would If She Could
He would if he could but he cannot.
The WITS hammer the table again.
ETHEREGE. Well, Johnny, it was a damned well-said thing, but it ain’t true, d’y’see.
ROCHESTER. Oh, but it is true, Georgie. You’re one of those literary types who think they can enjoy the town’s esteem for ever for something they wrote seven years ago. You can’t be promising for ever. Sooner or later you have to do something.
ETHEREGE. That’s what I’m saying. I’ve done it. I’ve written a new play.
A sensation. Everyone awaits ROCHESTER’s reaction.
ROCHESTER. Oooooh. Written a new play, has he? All those afternoons he was pretending to slope off and roger his mistress like a decent chap, he was lurking in his rooms poking away at a play.
SACKVILLE. That’s disgusting, George.
ROCHESTER. Disgusting and shameful.
SACKVILLE. Come on, out with it. Tell us what it’s called.
ETHEREGE. Well, it doesn’t actually have a title yet.
SACKVI