Page images
PDF
EPUB

L. Grace. Will not that have a very odd look from me?

Ld Town. Not at all, if you use my name in it: if he is innocent, his impatience to appear so will discover his regard to you: If he is guilty, it will be your best way of preventing his addresses.

L. Grace. But what pretence have I to put him out of countenance?

Ld Town. I cann't think there's any fear of that. L. Grace. Pray what is't you do think then? Ld Town. Why certainly, that it's much more probable this letter may be all an artifice, than that he is in the least concern'd in it——

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Mr Manly, my lord.

Ld Town. Do you receive him; while I step a minute in to my lady. [Exit Lord TOWNLY.

Enter MANLY.

Man. Madam, your most obedient; they told me my lord was here.

L. Grace. He will be here presently: He is but just gone in to my sister.

Man. So! then my lady dines with us? 1. Grace. No; she is engaged.

Man. I hope you are not of her party, madam?

L. Grace. Not till after dinner.

Man. And pray how may she have disposed of the rest of the day?

Man. Why really, where fancy only makes the choice, madam, no wonder if we are generally bubbled, in those sort of bargains, which, I confess, has been often my case: for I had con stantly some coquette, or other, upon my hands, whom I could love perhaps just enough to put it in her power to plague me.

L. Grace. And that's a power, I doubt, commonly made use of.

Man. The amours of a coquette, madam, seldom have any other view. I look upon them and prudes to be nuisances, just alike; though they seem very different: The first are always plaguing the men, and the other are always abusing the women.

L. Grace. And yet both of them do it for the same vain ends; to establish a false character of being virtuous.

Man. Of being chaste, they mean; for they know no other virtue: and, upon the credit of that, they traffic in every thing else that's vicious: they (even against nature) keep their chastity, only because they find they have more power to do mischief with it, than they could possibly put in practice without it.

L. Grace. Hold, Mr Manly! I am afraid this severe opinion of the sex is owing to the ill choice you have made of your mistresses.

Man. In a great measure it may be so: But, madam, if both these characters are so odious, how vastly valuable is that woman who has attained all they aim at without the aid of the folor vice of either.

L. Grace. Much as usual: She has visits tillly about eight; after that, till court time, she is to be at quadrille, at Mrs Idie's: After the drawing room, she takes a short supper with my Lady Moonlight; and from thence they go together to my Lord Noble's assembly.

Man. And are you to do all this with her, madam?

L. Grace. Only a few of the visits: I would indeed have drawn her to the play, but I doubt we have so much upon our hands, that it will not be practicable.

Man. But how can you forbear all the rest of it?

L. Grace. There's no great merit in forbearing what one is not charm'd with.

Man. And yet I have found that very difficult in my time.

L. Grace. How do you mean?

Man. Why, I have pass'd a great deal of my life in the hurry of the ladies, though I was generally better pleased when I was at quiet without 'em.

L. Grace. What induced you, then, to be with them?

Man. Idleness and the fashion.

L. Grace. No mistresses in the case? Man. To speak honestly-Yes-being often in the toyshop, there was no forbearing the baubles.

L. Grace. And of course, I suppose, sometimes you were tempted to pay for them twice as much as they were worth.

L. Grace. I believe those sort of women to be as scarce, sir, as the men that believe there are any such; or that, allowing such, have virtue enough to deserve them.

Mun. That could deserve them then—had been a more favourable reflection.

L. Grace. Nay, I speak only from my little experience; for (I'll be free with you, Mr Manly) I don't know a man in the world, that, in appearance, might better pretend to a woman of the first merit, than yourself: and yet I have a reason in my hand here to think you have your failings.

Man. I have infinite, madam; but I am sure the want of an implicit respect for you is not among the number-Pray what is in your hand,

madam?

L. Grace. Nay, sir, I have no title to it; for the direction is to you. [Gives him a letter. Man. To me! I don't remember the hand[Reads to himself. L. Grace. I cann't perceive any change of guilt in him, and his surprise seems natural. [Aside.]

-Give me leave to tell you one thing by the way, Mr Manly; that I should never have shewn you this, but that my brother enjoined me to it.

Man. I take that to proceed from my lord's good opinion of me, madam.

L. Grace. I hope, at least, it will stand as an excuse for my taking this liberty.

Man. I never yet saw you do any thing, ma dam, that wanted an excuse; and, I hope, you

will not give me an instance to the contrary, by refusing the favour I am going to ask you.

L. Grace. I don't believe I shall refuse any that you think proper to ask.

Man. Only this, madam, to indulge me so far, as to let me know how this letter came into your hands.

L. Grace. Inclosed to me in this, without a

name.

Man. If there be no secret in the contents, madam

L. Grace. Why-there is an impertinent insinuation in it: but, as I know your good sense will think it so too, I will venture to trust you. Man. You'll oblige me, madam.

[He takes the other letter and reads. L. Grace. [Aside.] Now am I in the oddest situation methinks our conversation grows terribly critical! This must produce something:O lud! would it were over!

:

Man. Now, madam, I begin to have some light into the poor project that is at the bottom of all this

L. Grace. I have no notion of what could be proposed by it!

Man. A little patience, madam

to the insinuation you mention—

-First, as

L. Grace. O! what is he going to say now! Aside. Man. Though my intimacy with my lord may have allowed my visits to have been very frequent here of late, yet, in such a talking town as this, you must not wonder, if a great many of those visits are placed to your account: and this taken for granted, I suppose has been told to my Lady Wronghead, as a piece of news, since her arrival, not improbably without many more imaginary circumstances.

young woman in the house, where my Lady Wronghead lodges, that I heard somebody call Myrtilla: this letter may be written by her-but how it came directed to me, I confess is a mystery, that, before I ever presume to see your ladyship again, I think myself obliged, in honour, to find out. [Going.

L. Grace. Mr Manly--you are not going? Man. 'Tis but to the next street, madam; I shall be back in ten minutes.

L. Grace. Nay! but dinner's just coming up. Man. Madam, I can neither eat nor rest till I see an end of this affair!

L. Grace. But this is so odd! Why should any silly curiosity of mine drive you away?

Man. Since you won't suffer it to be yours, madam, then it shall be only to satisfy my own curiosity[Exit MANLY.

L. Grace. Well-and now, what am I to think of all this? Or, suppose an indifferent person had heard every word we have said to one another, what would they have thought on't? Would it have been very absurd to conclude, he is seriously inclined to pass the rest of his life with me?-I hope not-for I am sure, the case is terribly clear on my side; and why may not I, without vanity, suppose my-unaccountable somewhat-has done as much execution upon him?-Why-because he never told me so-nay, he has not so much as mentioned the word love, or ever said one civil thing to my person-Well -but he has said a thousand to my good opinion, and has certainly got it--Had he spoke first to my person, he had paid a very ill compliment

to

my understanding-I should have thought him impertinent, and never have troubled my head about him; but, as he has managed the matter, at least I am sure of one thing; that, let his thoughts be what they will, I shall never trouble Mun. Ay, madam, for I am positive this is my head about any other man as long as I live. her hand.

L. Grace. My Lady Wronghead!

L. Grace. What view could she have in writing it?

Man. To interrupt any treaty of marriage she may have heard I am engaged in: because, if I die without heirs, her family expects that some part of my estate may return to them again. But, I hope, she is so far mistaken, that, if this letter has given you the least uneasiness--I shall think that the happiest moment of my life. L. Grace. That does not carry your usual complaisance, Mr Manly.

Man. Yes, madam, because I am sure I can convince you of my innocence.

L. Grace. I am sure I have no right to inquire into it.

Man. Suppose you may not, madam, yet you may very innocently have so much curiosity.

L. Grace. With what an artful gentleness he steals into my opinion! [Aside.] Well, sir, I won't pretend to have so little of the woman in me as to want curiosity-But pray, do you suppose then, this Myrtilla is a real or a fictitious name?

Man. Now I recollect, madam, there is a

Enter Mrs TRUSTY.

Well, Mrs Trusty, is my sister dressed yet?

Trus. Yes, madam; but my lord has been courting her so, I think, till they are both out of humour.

L. Grace. How so?

Trus. Why, it begun, madam, with his lordship's desiring her ladyship to dine at home today-upon which my lady said she could not be ready; upon that, my lord ordered them to stay the dinner, and then my lady ordered the coach; then my lord took her short, and said, he had ordered the coachman to set up: then my lady made him a great curtsey, and said, she would wait till his lordship's horses had dined, and was mighty pleasant: but, for fear of the worst, madam, she whispered me-to get her chair ready. [Exit TRUSTY.

L. Grace. O! here they come; and, by their looks, scem a little unfit for company.

[Exit Lady GRACE. Enter Lady TOWNLY, Lord TOWNLY following. Lady Town. Well! look you, my lord; I can

bear it no longer! nothing still but about my faults, my faults! an agreeable subject truly!

Ld Town. Why, madam, if you won't hear of them, how can I ever hope to see you mend them?

Lady Town. Why, I don't intend to mend them-I cann't mend them-you know I have tried to do it an hundred times, and-it hurts me so I cann't bear it!

Ld Town. And I, madam, cann't bear this daily licentious abuse of your time and character. Lady Town. Abuse! Astonishing! when the universe knows I am never better company, than when I am doing what I have a mind to! But to see this world! that men can never get over that silly spirit of contradiction-Why, but last Thursday now-there you wisely amended one of my faults, as you call them-you insisted upon my not going to the masquerade-and pray, | what was the consequence? was not I as cross as the devil all the night after? was not I forced to get company at home? and was not it almost three o'clock in the morning before I was able to come to myself again? and then the fault is not mended neither,-for next time, I shall only have twice the inclination to go: so that all this mending and mending, you see, is but darning an old ruffle, to make it worse than it was before. Ld Town. Well, the manner of women's living, of late, is insupportable; and, one way or otherLady Toun. It's to be mended, I suppose? Why so it may; but then, my dear lord, you must give one time-and when things are at worst, you know, they may mend themselves; ha, ha.

Ld Town. Madam, I am not in a humour now to trifle.

Lady Town. Why then, my lord, one word of fair argument-to talk with you your own way now-You complain of my late hours, and I of your early ones-so far are we even, you'll allow-but pray which gives us the best figure in the eye of the polite world, my active, spirited three in the morning, or your dull drowsy eleven at night? Now, I think one has the air of a woman of quality, and t'other of a plodding mechanic, that goes to bed betimes, that he may rise early to open his shop!-Faugh!

Ld Town. Fie, fie, madam! is this your way of reasoning? 'tis time to wake you then-'Tis not your ill hours alone that disturb me, but as often the ill company, that occasion those ill hours.

Lady Town. Sure I don't understand you now, my lord; what ill company do I keep?

Ld Town. Why, at best, women that lose their money, and men that win it; or, perhaps, men that are voluntary bubbles at one game, in hopes a lady will give them fair play at another. Then that unavoidable mixture with known rakes, concealed thieves, and sharpers in embroidery-or what, to me, is still more shocking, that herd of familiar, chattering, crop-eared coxcombs, who are so often like monkeys, there

would be no knowing them asunder, but that their tails hang from their head, and the monkey's grows where it should do.

Lady Town. And a husband must give eminent proof of his sense, that thinks their powder-puffs dangerous.

Ld Town. Their being fools, madam, is not always the husband's security: Or, if it were, fortune sometimes gives them advantages might make a thinking woman tremble.

Lady Town. What do you mean?

Ld Town. That women sometimes lose more than they are able to pay; and, if a creditor be a little pressing, the lady may be reduced to try if, instead of gold, the gentleman will accept of a trinket.

Lady Town. My lord, you grow scurrilous; you'll make me hate you. I'll have you to know, I keep company with the politest people in town, and the assemblies I frequent are full of such. Ld Town. So are the churches-now and then.

Lady Town. My friends frequent them too, as well as the assemblies.

Ld Town. Yes, and would do it oftner, if a groom of the chambers there were allowed to furnish cards to the company.

Lady Town. I see what you drive at all this while; you would lay an imputation on my fame, to cover your own avarice: I might take any pleasures, I find, that were not expensive.

Ld Town. Have a care, madam; don't let me think you only value your chastity, to make me reproachable for not indulging you in every thing else that's vicious- -I, madam, have a reputation too to guard, that's dear to me as yoursThe follies of an ungoverned wife may make the wisest man uneasy; but 'tis his own fault, if ever they make him contemptible.

Lady Town. My lord-you would make a woman mad!

Ld Town. You'd make a man a fool. Lady Town. If heaven has made you otherwise, that won't be in my power.

Ld Town. Whatever may be in your inclination, madam, I'll prevent you making me a beggar at least.

Lady Town. A beggar! Cræsus! I'm out of patience! I won't come home till four to-morrow morning.

Ld Town. That may be, madam; but I'll order the doors to be locked at twelve.

Lady Town. Then I won't come home till tomorrow night.

Ld Town. Then, madam-you shall never come home again. [Exit Lord Town. Lady Town. What does he mean? I never heard such a word from him in my life before! the man always used to have manners in his worst hu mours! there's something, that I don't see, at the bottom of all this--but his head's always upon some impracticable scheme or other, so I won't trouble mine any longer about him. Mr Manly,

your servant.

[blocks in formation]

Lady Town. O! my dear Lady Grace! how could you leave me so unmercifully alone all this while?

L. Grace. I thought my lord had been with you. Lady Town. Why yes- -and therefore I wanted your relief; for he has been in such a fluster here

L. Grace. Bless me! for what?

Lady Town. Only our usual breakfast; we have each of us had one dish of matrimonial comfort this morning we have been charming company.

L. Grace. I am mighty glad of it: sure it must be a vast happiness, when a man and a wife can give themselves the same turn of conversation. Lady Town. O! the prettiest thing in the world!

L. Grace. Now I should be afraid, that, where two people are every day together so, they must often be in want of something to talk upon.

L. Grace. But pray, in such sort of family dialogues (though extremely well for passing the time) don't there, now and then, enter some little witty sort of bitterness?

Lady Town. O yes! which does not do amiss at all: a smart repartee, with a zest of recrimination at the head of it, makes the prettiest sherbet. Ay, ay! if we did not mix a little of the acid with it, a matrimonial society would be so luscious, that nothing but an old liquorish prude would be able to bear it.

L. Grace. Well,-certainly you have the most elegant taste

Lady Town. Though, to tell you the truth, my dear, I rather think we squeezed a little too much lemon into it this bout; for it grew so sour at last, that I think I almost told him, he was a fool- —and he again—talked something oddly of-turning me out of doors.

L. Grace. O! have a care of that! Lady Town. Nay, if he should, I may thank my own wise father for that.

L. Grace. How so?

Lady Town. Why-when my good lord first opened his honourable trenches before me, my unaccountable papa, in whose hands I then was, gave me up at discretion.

L. Grace. How do you mean? Lady Town. He said, the wives of this sage were come to that pass, that he would not desire even his own daughter should be trusted with pin-money; so that my whole train of separate inclinations are left entirely at the mercy of an husband's odd humours.

L. Grace. Why, that indeed is enough to make a woman of spirit look about her.

Lady Town. Nay, but to be serious, my dear; what would you really have a woman do in my case?

Lady Town. O, my dear, you are the most mistaken in the world! married people have things to talk of, child, that never enter into the imagination of others.- Why, there's my lord and I now, we have not been married above two short years, you know, and we have already eight or ten things constantly in bank, that, whenever we want L. Grace. Why-if I had a sober husband company, we can take up any one of them for as you have, I would make myself the happiest two hours together, and the subject never the flat-wife in the world by being as sober as he. ter; nay, if we have occasion for it, it will be as fresh next day too as it was the first hour it entertained us.

L. Grace. Certainly that must be vastly pretty. Lady Town. O! there's no life like it! Why t'other day, for example, when you dined abroad, my lord and I, after a pretty chearful tête-a-tête meal, sat us down by the fire-side, in an easy indolent, pick-tooth way, for about a quarter of an hour, as if we had not thought of any other's being in the room-at last stretching himself, and yawning-My dear, says he,- aw-you came home very late last night- 'Twas but just turned of two, says I-I was in bedaw -by eleven, says he; so you are every night, says I-Well, says he, I am amazed you can sit up so late-How can you be amazed, says I, at a thing that happens so often?-upon which we entered into a conversation—and though this is a point has entertained us above fifty times already, we always find so many pretty new things to say upon it, that, I believe in my soul, it will last as long as we live.

Lady Town. O you wicked thing! how can you teaze one at this rate? when you know he is so very sober, that (except giving me money) there is not one thing in the world he can do to please me! And I at the same time, partly by nature, and partly, perhaps, by keeping the best company, do with my soul love almost every thing he hates! I dote upon assemblies; my heart bounds at a ball; and at an opera--I expire! Then I love play to distraction; cards enchant me; and dice—put me out of my little wits! Dear! dear hazard! Oh! what a flow of spirits it gives one! Do you never play at hazard, child ?

|
L. Grace. Oh! never! I don't think it sits well
upon women; there's something so masculine, so
much the air of a rake in it; you see how it makes
the men swear and curse; and when a woman is
thrown into the same passion-why-

Lady Town. That's very true; one is a little put to it, sometimes, not to make use of the same words to express it.

L. Grace. Welland, upon ill luck, pray what words are you really forced to make use of?

Lady Town. Why, upon a very hard case, indeed, when a sad wrong word is rising just to one's tongue's end, I give a great gulp-and swallow it.

L. Grace. Well—and is not that enough to make you forswear play as long as you live? Lady Town. O yes! I have forsworn it. L. Grace. Seriously?

Lady Town. Solemnly! a thousand times; but then one is constantly forsworn.

L. Grace. And how can you answer that? Lady Town. My dear, what we say, when we are losers, we look upon to be no more binding than a lover's oath, or a great man's promise. But I beg pardon, child; I should not lead you so far into the world; you are a prude, and design to live soberly.

L. Grace. Why, I confess, my nature, and my education, do, in a good degree, incline me that

way.

Lady Town. Well! how a woman of spirit, (for you don't want that, child,) can dream of living soberly, is to me inconceivable! for you will marry, I suppose?

L. Grace. I cann't tell but I may.

Lady Town. And won't you live in town? L. Grace. Half the year-1 should like it very well.

Lady Town. My stars! and you would really live in London half the year to be sober in it? L. Grace. Why not?

Lady Town. Why cann't you as well go and be sober in the country?

L. Grace. So I would-t'other half year. Lady Town. And pray, what comfortable scheme of life would you form now for your summer and winter sober entertainments?

L. Grace. A scheme that, I think, might very well content us.

Lady Town. O! of all things let's hear it.

L. Grace. Why, in summer, I could pass my leisure hours in riding, in reading, walking by a canal, or sitting at the end of it under a great tree; in dressing, dining, chatting with an agreeable friend, perhaps hearing a little music, taking a dish of tea, or a game of cards, soberly; managing my family, looking into its accounts, playing with my children, (if I had any,) or in a thousand other innocent amusements--soberly! and possibly, by these means, I might induce my husband to be as sober as myself.

Lady Town. Well, my dear, thou art an astonishing creature! For sure such primitive antediluvian notions of life have not been in any head these thousand years- -Under a great tree! O, my soul!--But I beg we may have the sober town-scheme too-for I am charmed with the Country one.

L. Grace. You shall, and I'll try to stick to my sobriety there too.

Lady Town. Well, though I'm sure it will give me the vapours, I most hear it however.

L. Grace. Why then, for fear of your fainting, madam, I will first so far come into the fashion, that I would never be dressed out of it--but

still it should be soberly. For I cann't think it any disgrace to a woman of my private fortune, not to wear her lace as fine as the wedding-suit of a first duchess. Though there is one extravagance I would venture to come up to. Lady Town. Ay, now for it

L. Grace. I would every day be as clean as a bride.

Lady Town. Why the men say, that's a great step to be made one.-Well, now you are drestpray let's see to what purpose.

L. Grace. I would visit-that is, my real friends, but as little for form as possible.-I would go to court; sometimes to an assembly, nay, play at quadrille-soberly; I would see all the good plays; and (because 'tis the fashion) now and then an opera-but I would not expire there, for fear I should never go again; and lastly, I cann't say, but, for curiosity, if I liked my company, I might be drawn in once to a masquerade; and this, I think, is as far as any woman can gosoberly.

Lady Town. Well, if it had not been for that last piece of sobriety, I was just going to call for some surfeit water.

L. Grace. Why, don't you think, with the farther aid of breakfasting, dining, taking the air, supping, sleeping, not to say a word of devotion, the four and twenty hours might roll over in a tolerable manner?

Lady Town. Tolerable? Deplorable! Why, child, all you propose is but to endure life; now I want to enjoy it

[blocks in formation]

[Exit Lady Town.

L. Grace. There she goes-dash ! into her stream of pleasures. Poor woman! she is really a fine creature, and sometimes infinitely agree able! Nay, take her out of the madness of this town, rational in her notions, and easy to live with; but she is so borne down by this torrent of vanity in vogue, she thinks every hour of her life is lost that she does not lead at the head of it. What it will end in, I tremble to imagine.Ha! my brother, and Manly with him! I guess what they have been talking of-I shall hear it in

« PreviousContinue »