The Town

The Town-Fop Monologue Essay A monologue from the play by Aphra Behn NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. 3. Ed. Montague Summers. London: Heinemann, 1915. SIR TIMOTHY: I vow to Fortune, Ned, thou must come to London, and be a little manag\d: \slife, Man, shouldst thou talk so aloud in good Company, thou wouldst be counted a strange Fellow. Prettyand drest with Lovea find Figure, by Fortune: No, Ned, the painted Chariot gives a Lustre to every ordinary Face, and makes a Woman look like Quality; Ay, so like, by Fortune, that you shall not know one from t\other, till some scandalous, out-of-favour\d laid-aside Fellow of the Town, cryDamn her for a Bitchhow scornfully the Whore regards meShe has forgot since Jacksuch a one, and I, club\d for the keeping of her, when both our Stocks well manag\d wou\d not amount to above seven Shillings six Pence a week; besides now and then a Treat of a Breast of Mutton from the next Cook\s.Then the other laughs, and crysAy, rot herand tells his Story too, and concludes with, Who manages the Jilt now; Why, faith, some dismal Coxcomb or other, you may be sure, replies the first. But, Ned, these are Rogues, and Rascals, that value no Man\s Reputation, because they despise their own. But faith, I have laid aside all these Vanities, now I have thought of Matrimony; but I desire my Reformation may be a Secret, because, as you know, for a Man of my Address, and the rest\tis not altogether so Jantee.