Much controversy straight arose-
These chose the back, the belly those;
By some, 'tis confidently said,

He meant not to forbid the head;
While others at that doctrine rail,
'And piously prefer the tail.

Thus, conscience freed from every clog,
Mohammedans eat up the hog.

You laugh-'tis well. The tale applied May make you laugh on t'other side. Renounce the world! the preacher cries. We do! a multitude replies.

While one as innocent regards

A snug and friendly game at cards;
And one, whatever you may say,

Can see no evil in a play;

Some love a concert, or a race;

And others shooting, and the chase. Reviled and loved, renounced and followed, Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallowed; Each thinks his neighbour makes too free, Yet likes a slice as well as he.

With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten.

Hannah Cowley

Miss Letitia Plays the Hoyden

MRS. RACKETT and LETITIA HARDY.

Mrs. R. Come, prepare, prepare your lover is coming! Let. My lover! Confess, now, that my absence at dinner was a severe mortification to him.

Mrs. R. I can't absolutely swear it spoiled his appetite; he ate as if he was hungry, and drank his wine as though he liked it.

Let. What was the apology?

Mrs. R. That you were ill; but I gave him a hint that your extreme bashfulness could not support his eye.

Let. If I comprehend him, awkwardness and bashfulness are the last faults he can pardon in a woman; so expect to see me transformed into the veriest maukin.

Mrs. R. You persevere, then?

Let. Certainly. I know the design is a rash one, and the event important; it either makes Doricourt mine by all the tenderest ties of passion, or deprives me of him forever; and never to be his wife will afflict me less than to be his wife and not be beloved.

Mrs. R. So you won't trust to the good old maxim, "Marry first, and love will follow "?

Let. As readily as I would venture my last guinea that good fortune might follow. The woman that has not touched the heart of a man before he leads her to the altar, has scarcely a chance to charm it when possession and security turn their powerful arms against her.

Doric. (without). Up-stairs, hey?

Let. But here he comes! I'll disappear for a moment. Don't spare me.

Enter DORICOURT, not seeing MRS. RACKETT.

(Exit.)

Doric. So! (Looking at a picture.) This is my mistress, I presume. Ma foi! the painter has hit her off. The downcast eye-the blushing cheek-timid-apprehensive-bashful. A tear and a prayer-book would have made her La Belle Magdalena.

"Give me a woman in whose touching mien

A mind, a soul, a polished art is seen;

Whose motion speaks, whose poignant air can move;
Such are the darts to wound with endless love."

Mrs. R. Is that an impromptu?

(Touching him on the shoulder with her fan.) Doric. (starting). Madam! (Aside.) Finely caught! Not absolutely. It struck me, during the dessert, as a motto for your picture.

Mrs. R. Gallantly turned! 1 perceive, however, Miss Hardy's charms have made no violent impression on you. And who can wonder? The poor girl's defects are so obvious.

Doric. Defects?

Mrs. R. Merely those of education. Her father's indulgence ruined her. Mauvaise honte, conceit and ignorance all unite in the lady you are to marry.

Doric. Marry! I marry such a woman! Your picture, I hope, is overcharged. I marry mauvaise honte, pertness and ignorance!

Mrs. R. Thank your stars that ugliness and ill-temper are not added to the list. You must think her handsome.

Doric. Half her personal beauty would content me; but could the Medicean Venus be animated for me, and endowed with a vulgar soul, I should become the statue, and my heart transformed to marble.

Mrs. R. Bless us! We are in a hopeful way, then!

Doric. (aside). There must be some envy in this. I see she is a coquette. Ha-ha-ha! And you imagine I am persuaded of the truth of your character! Ha-ha-ha! Miss Hardy, I have been assured, madam, is elegant and accomplished--but one must allow for a lady's painting. (Bows.)

Mrs. R. (aside). I'll be even with him for that. Ha-haha! And so you have found me out? Well, I protest I meant no harm; 'twas only to increase the éclat of her appearance that I threw a veil over her charms. Here comes the lady; her elegance and accomplishments will announce themselves.

Enter LETITIA, running.

Let. La, cousin, do you know that our John- Oh, dear heart! I didn't see you, sir.

(Hanging down her head, and dropping behind MRS. RACKETT.)

Mrs. R. Fie, Letitia, Mr. Doricourt thinks you a woman of elegant manners. Stand forward and confirm his opinion. Let. No, no; keep before me. He's my sweetheart, and 'tis impudent to look one's sweetheart in the face, you know. Mrs. R. You'll allow in future for a lady's painting, sir. Ha-ha-ha!

Doric. I am astonished.

Let. Well, hang it, I'll take heart. Why, he is but a man,

you know, cousin—and I'll let him see I wasn't born in a wood to be scared by an owl. (Half apart; advances, and looks at him through her fingers.) He-he-he! (Crosses, and makes a very stiff, formal courtesy. He bows.) You have been a great traveller, sir, I hear. I wish you'd tell us about the fine sights you saw when you went over sea. I have read in a book that there are some other countries, where the men and women are all horses. Did you see any of them?

Mrs. R. Mr. Doricourt is not prepared, my dear, for these inquiries. He is reflecting on the importance of the question, and will answer you-when he can.

Let. When he can! Why, he's as slow in speech as Aunt Margery when she's reading "Thomas Aquinas," and stands gaping like mumchance.

Mrs. R. Have a little discretion.

Let. Hold your tongue! Sure I may say what I please before I am married, if I can't afterward. D'ye think a body does not know how to talk to a sweetheart? He is not the first I have had.

Doric. Indeed!

Let. O lud, he speaks! Why, if you must know, there was the curate at home. When papa was a-hunting, he used to come a-suitoring, and make speeches to me out of books. Nobody knows what a mort of fine things he used to say to me, and call me Venis, and Jubah, and Dinah.

Doric. And pray, fair lady, how did you answer him? Let. Why, I used to say, "Look you, Mr. Curate, don't think to come over me with your flimflams, for a better man than ever trod in your shoes is coming over sea to marry me." But 'ifags, I begin to think I was out. Parson Dobbins was the sprightfuler man of the two.

Doric. Surely this cannot be Miss Hardy?