ever have any thoughts of me, that could lay down such severe rules upon wives in my hear ng. Lord Town. Did you think his rules unreason able? Lady Grace. I can't say I did; but he might have had a little more complaisance before me, at least. Lord Town. Complaisance is only a proof of good breeding, but his plainness was a certain proof of his honesty; nay, of his good opinion of you: for he would never have opened himself so freely, but in confidence that your good sense could not be disobliged at it. Lady Grace. My good opinion of him, brother, has hitherto been guided by yours: but I have received a letter this morning, that shews him a very different man from what I thought him. Lord Town. A letter! from whom? is. < Lady Grace. That I don't know; but there it [Gives a letter. Lord Town. Pray, let's see. [Reads.] "The inclosed, madam, fell accidentally into my hands; if it no way concerns you, you will only have the trouble of reading this, from your sincere 'friend, and humble servant, Unknown,' &c. Lady Grace. And this was the inclosed. [Gives another. Lord Town. [Reads.] To Charles Manly, Esq.-Your manner of living with me of late, 'convinces me that I now grow as painful to you as to myself: but, however, though you can 'love me no longer, I hope you will not let me live worse than I did, before I left an honest income for the vain hopes of being ever yours. MYRTILLA DUPE.' 'P. S. 'Tis above four months since I received a shilling from you.' 6 6 Lady Grace. What think you now? Lady Grace. You see it's directed to himLord Town. That's true; but the postscript seems to be a reproach that I think he is not capable of deserving. Lady Grace. But who could have concern enough to send it to me? Lord Town. I have observed that these sort of letters, from unknown friends, generally come from secret enemies. Lady Grace. What would you have me do in it? Lord Town. What I think you ought to dofairly shew it to him, and say I advised you to it. Lady Grace. Will not that have a very odd look from me? Lord 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 the best way of preventing his addresses. Lady Grace. But what pretence have I to put him out of countenance ? a Ser. Mr Manly, my lord. Lord Town. Do you receive him, while I step minute in to my lady. [Erit LORD TOWNLY. Enter MANLY. Man. Madam, your most obedient; they told me my lord was here. Lady Grace. He will be here presently; he is but just gone in to my sister. Man. So, then, my lady dines with us? Man. And, pray, how may she have disposed of the rest of the day? Lady Grace. Much as usual; she has visits till about eight; after that, till court-time, she is to be at quadrille, at Mrs Idle'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? Lady 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? Lady Grace. There's no great merit in forbearing what one is not charmed with. Man. And, yet, I have found that very difficult in my time. Lady Grace. How do you mean? Man. Why, I have passed a great deal of my life in the hurry of the ladies, though I was generally better pleased when I was at quiet without them. Lady Grace. What induced you, then, to be with them? Man. Idleness, and the fashion. Lady Grace. No mistresses in the case? Man. To speak honestly-yes-Being often in the toy-shop, there was no forbearing the baubles. Lady Grace. And of course, I suppose, sometimes you were tempted to pay for them twice as much as they were worth? 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 constantly some coquette or other upon my hands, whom I could love, perhaps, just enough to put it in her power to plague me. Lady 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 others are always abusing the women. Lady Grace. And yet both of them do it for the same vain ends; to establish a false character of being virtuous. will not give me an instance to the contrary, by refusing the favour I am going to ask you. Lady 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 hand. Lady Grace. Inclosed to me in this, without a name. Man. If there be no secret in the contents, madam Lady 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 will oblige me, madam. 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. [He takes the other letter, and reads. They (even against nature) keep their chastity, Lady Grace, [Aside.] Now am i in the oddest only because they find they have more power to situation! methinks our conversation grows terdo mischief with it, than they could possibly putribly critical. This must produce somethingin practice without it. Oh, lud! would it were over. Lady 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 folly or vice of either! Lady 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. Man. That could deserve them, then--had been a more favourable reflection. Lady 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? Lady 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. Lady Grace. I can'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. Lady 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, madam, that wanted an excuse; and I hope you Man. Now, madam, I begin to have some light into the poor project that is at the bottom 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 with many more imaginary circumstances. Lady Grace. My lady Wronghead! Man. Ay, madam; for I am positive this is her hand. Lady 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 uncasiness --I shall think that the happiest moment of my life. Lady Grace. That does not carry your usual complaisance, Mr Manly! Man. Yes, madam, because I am sure I can convince you of my innocence. Lady 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. Lady 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 sup pose, then, this Myrtilla is a real, or a fictitious | mighty pleasant: but, for fear of the worst, maname? dam, she whispered me-to get her chair ready. [Exit TRUSTY. Lady Grace. Oh, here they come! and, by their looks, seem a little unfit for company. Man. Now I recollect, madam, there is a 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. Lady Grace. Mr Manly-you are not going? Man. 'Tis but to the next street, madam; I shall be back in ten minutes. up. Lady Grace. Nay, but dinner's just coming [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! Lord 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 Man. Madam, I can neither eat nor rest, till I-I can't mend them-you know I have tried see an end of this affair. to do it a hundred times-and-it hurts me so Lady Grace. But this is so odd! why should|—I can't bear it. any silly curiosity of mine drive you away? Lord Town. And I, madam, can't bear this daily licentious abuse of your time and charac ter. 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 Man. Since you won't suffer it to be yours, madam, then it shall be only to satisfy my own curiosity[Exit MAN. Lady 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?—that silly spirit of contradiction-Why, but last 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 myunaccountable 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 opininion, 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 my head about any other man as long as I live. 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 it not 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. Lord Town. Well, the manner of women's living of late is insupportable; and one way or other Lady Town. 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! Lord 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 in your own way, now-You complain of my late hours, and I of your early ones-so far we are 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! Lord Town. Fy, fy, madam! is this your way of reasoning? 'tis time to wake you, then- 'Tis not your ill hours alone that disturb me, but | patience!-I won't come home till four to-moras often the ill company that occasion those ill row morning. hours. Lady Town. Sure I don't understand you now, my lord, what ill company do I keep? Lord 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 uuavoidable 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 heads, and the monkey's grows where it should do. Lady Town. And a husband must give eminent proof of his sense, that thinks these powder-puffs dangerous. Lord Town. Their being fools, madam, is not always the husband's security; or, if it were, fortune sometimes gives them advantages that might make a thinking woman tremble. Lady Town. What do you mean? Lord 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. Lord Town. So are the churches-now and then. Lady Town. My friends frequent them, too, as well as the assemblies. Lord Town. Yes, and would do it oftener, if a groom of the chambers were there 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. Lord 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 yours-The 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! Lord 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. Lord Town. Then, madam--you shall never come home again. [Exit LORD TOWNLY. 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 humours. 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. Enter MANLY. Man. I ask pardon for intrusion, madam; but I hope my business with my lord will excuse it. Lady Town. I believe you'll find him in the next room, sir. Man. Will you give me leave, madam? Lady Town. Sir-you have my leave, though you were a lady. Man. [Aside.] What a well-bred age do we live in! [Exit MANLY. Enter LADY GRACE. Lady Town. Oh, my dear lady Grace! how could you leave me so unmercifully alone all this while ? Lady 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 flutter here Lady Grace. Bless me! for what? Lady Town. Only our usual breakfast; we have each of us had our dish of matrimonial comfort this morning-We have been charming company! Lady 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. Oh, the prettiest thing in the world! Lady Grace. Now I should be afraid, that where two people are every day together so, they must often be in the want of something to talk upon. Lady Town. Oh, my dear, you are the most mistaken in the world! married people have things to talk of, child, that never enter into the Lord Town. You'd make a man a fool! imagination of others. Why, here's my lord and Lady Town. If Heaven has made you other-I, now, we have not been married above two wise, that won't be in my power. short years, you know, and we have already eight Lord Town. Whatever may be in your inclina- or ten things constantly in bank, that, whenever tion, madam, I'll prevent your making me a beg-we want company, we can take up any one of gar, at least. them for two hours together, and the subject neLady Town. A beggar! Croesus! I'm out of ver the flatter; nay, if we have occassion for it, it will be as fresh next day, too, as it was the first | as you have, I would make myself the happiest hour it entertained us. wife in the world, by being as sober as he. Lady Grace. Certainly that must be vastly pretty! Lady Town. Oh, there's no life like it! Why, t'other day, for example, when you dined abroad, my lord and I, after a pretty cheerful téte à 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 bed-aw-by eleven, says he-So you are every night, says IWell, 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 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. Oh, 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. Lady 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. Lady Grace. Oh, have a care of that! Lady Town. Nay, if he should, I may thank my own wise father for that Lady 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. Lady Grace. How do you mean? Lady Town. He said, the wives of this age 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 a husband's odd humours. Lady 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 Grace. Why-if I had a sober husband, Lady Town. Oh, 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? Lady 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 passionwhy 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. Lady Grace. Well--and, upon il 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. Lady Grace. Well; and is not that enough to make you forswear play as long as you live? Lady Town. Oh, yes: I have forsworn it. Lady Grace. Seriously? Lady Town. Solemnly! a thousand times; but then one is constantly forsworn, Lady 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. Lady 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, suppose? I Lady Grace. I can't tell but I may. Lady Town. And won't you live in town? Lady Grace. Half the year, I should like it very well. Lady Town. My stars! and you would really live in London half the year, to be sober in it? Lady Grace. Why not? Lady Town. Why can't you as well go and be sober in the country? Lady Grace. So I would-t'other half year. Lady Town. And pray, what comfortable |