(Scene-1)
Arittro walks in drunk, holding a wine glass. He stumbles a little and starts talking to himself, his words
slurred.
Arittro: Ah—hah! Ladies and gentlemen… or whoever is still listening… let me tell you something true
about this fine age of ours. I’ve had a little bit to drink, not much. Our whole Neoclassical world—oh, it
runs on two big things: consumption and self-projection. Believe me, I’ve lived long enough and wasted
enough money to know. Consumption, yes! That’s the life we live. We go to theatres, court parties,
coffeehouses… and why? Not only for enjoyment—no, no, no. We go to be seen. We buy fancy
perfumes from France, powders from Italy, fans from the Indies, wigs higher than common sense. Our
shops are full of imported luxury goods, and we use them to show our status. People think spending is
the same as being important. And maybe… maybe it is in this age.
But the bigger thing——is self-projection. Oh, we’re all actors in this world. Ladies sit at their dressing
tables for hours, arranging every curl and powder. Pope showed it perfectly in The Rape of the
Lock—Belinda doing her morning toilette like some holy ceremony. Well, don’t laugh, because that’s
exactly how it looks. Every woman in society treats beauty like a duty. Reputation depends on how you
shine in public.
And writers—ha! Don’t get me started. Everyone wants to be famous now that printing is cheap. Even
the worst of poets fight for attention. Dryden was right in Mac Flecknoe—Shadwell becomes ‘king’ of
dullness only because he never stops shouting his own name. That’s our age: you don’t need talent,
you only need visibility.
So here I am, telling you plainly—yes, even drunk, I can say it—our England is obsessed with display,
image, performance. People rise because they know how to present themselves, not because they
have depth or virtue. Consumption gives us all the fancy things, and self-projection teaches us how to
parade them. Pope and Dryden weren’t lying; they saw right through us. And now so do you… thanks
to my wine-loosened tongue.
Dryden: (after seeing Freeport) Hey you Gentleman! Why are you drunk and behaving in such an
absurd way? Don't you know that drinking wine in a coffee house is not a gentleman's behavior?
Freeport: So, you are from the society who supports monarchy. You have come to teach me so-called
"manner," you monarch supporter.
(Andrew Freeport stumbles in with a wine glass, staring at Belinda.)
Andrew Freeport (adoring, exaggerating): Oh! Goddess-like! Why, I have never sent you a billet-doux
worthy of your grace. All my letters, all my ardent devotion… wasted!
Belinda (playful, tilting her head): Yes, the greatest favor you may hope for… is that I glance at your
name once, if Fortune permits. Otherwise… your letters lie unopened… in my toilette, along with my
puffs, powder, patches, and my Bible.
Andrew Freeport (laughing): Well, even to watch such a divine creature mock me… that is a blessing
enough! To see a goddess face to face…
Belinda (fanning herself, chuckling): Yes! Every man, gazing on such beauty, forgets all the errors of
women. Ha!
Andrew Freeport: And these… your jewels and attire… from India, yes?
Belinda (grinning, tilting a shoulder): Indeed, my jewels are from India, and this delicate box… Arabia.