Wycherley wrote his first play in 1667. In comparing him with Shakespeare we find the same difference as existed between the old and new comedy in Greece. Political characters have disappeared together with hostility and combats on the stage, while amorous intrigue is largely developed. There is at the same time considerable sprightliness in the dialogue, and the tricks, deceptions and misadventures of lovers fill the pages with much that is ingenious and amusing. In the "Gentleman Dancing Master," a young spark pretends to a rich father that he is only visiting his daughter to teach her to dance. A rival lover—a Frenchified puppy—is made unconsciously to co-operate in his own discomfiture, while the duped father jokes with the supposed "dancing master," and asks him whether he is not engaged to one of his rich pupils, laughing heartily at the picture he draws to himself of her father's indignation. Again, in "A Country Wife," a jealous husband obliges his spouse to write a disdainful letter to a gallant, but the lady slyly substitutes one of quite a different character, which the husband duly and pompously delivers to him. The humour of Wycherley is almost entirely of this kind. Here are no verbal quips, no sallies of professed fools, no stupidities of country boobies. These have passed away from good comedy. Speaking of the change, he says that formerly they were contented to make serving-men fools on the stage, "but now you shall scarcely see a fool on the stage who is not a knight." The fact was that a higher kind of humour was required, and accordingly we now, for the first time, hear of "wits"—men of good birth and position, who prided themselves on their talent. They were generally remarkable for their manners and address, and affected a superiority in acuteness, but not always in humour. Wycherley speaks of wits not exactly in the sense of humorists, but rather as coxcombs, endued with a certain cunning: "Your court wit is a fashionable, insinuating, flattering, cringing, grimacing fellow, and has wit enough to solicit a suit of love; and if he fail he has malice enough to ruin the woman with a dull lampoon; but he rails still at the man that is absent, for all wits rail; and his wit properly lies in combing perukes, matching ribbons, and being severe, as they call it, upon other peoples' clothes."
Lydia. Now, what is your coffee wit?
Dapperwit. He is a lying, censorious, gossiping, quibbling wretch, and sets people together by the ears over that sober drink—coffee; he is a wit as he is a commentator upon the Gazette; and he rails at the pirates of Algiers, the Grand Signior of Constantinople, and the Christian Grand Signior.
Lydia. What kind of wit is your pollwit?
Dap. He is a fidgetting, busy, dogmatical, hot-headed fop, that speaks always in sentences and proverbs, and he rails perpetually against the present Government. His wit lies in projects and monopolies, and penning speeches for Parliament men—
He goes on to speak of the scribble wit, and judge wit or critic, but in general wits were regarded as rakes and not long afterwards we find it debated whether a woman can be witty and virtuous.
Wycherley did not aim much at facetiousness, nor introduce many humorous episodes, but passages incidentally occur which show he had considerable talent in that direction. The first from "Love in a Wood," is an ironical conflict between one Gripe, a rich but parsimous Alderman, and a Mrs. Joyner, a sly, designing old woman.
Gripe. I am full of your praise, and it will run over.
Joyner. Nay, sweet Sir, you are——
Gripe. Nay, sweet Mrs. Joyner, you are——