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more humbly of me than I do of myself, I would take bis opinion, and forego my own.

Stock. And were I to choose a pupil, it should be one of your complexion : so if you will come along with me, we will agree upon your admission, and enter upon a course of lectures directly. Bel. With all my heart. II.-Lady Townly and Lady Grace.

PROVOKED HUSBAND. Lady T. , my dear Lady Grace! How could you leave me so unmercifully alone all this while?

Lady G. I thought my Lord had been with you.

Lady T. Why, yes-and therefore I wanted your relief; for he has been in such a fluster here."

Lady G. Bless me! For what?

Lady T. Only our usual breakfast; we have each of us had our dish of matrimonial 'comfort this morning-we have been charming company.

Lady G. I am mighty glad of it; sure it must be a vast happiness, when man and wife can give themselves the same turn or conversation !

Lady T. Oh, the prettiest thing in the world!

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

Lady T. Oh, 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, here'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 company, we can take up any one of them for two hours together, and the subject never the flatter; nay,

if we have occasion for it, it will be as fresh next day too, as it was the first hour it entertained us.

Lady G. Certainly that must be vastly pretty.

Lady T. Oh, there's no life like it ! lvhy, t'other day, for example, when you dined abroad, my Lord and I, af ter a pretty cheerful tete a tete 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 one an.



other's being in the room. At last, stretching himself and yawning-My dear, says he-aw. -you came liome very late last night.- -'Twas but just turned of two, says I.-I was in bed

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 amazed, says i, at a thing that happens so often? -Upon which we entered into a conversation-and though this is a point that 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 I live,

Lady G. But pray, in such sort of family dialogues, (thougli extremely well for passing the time) does’nt there now and then enter some little witty sort of bitterness ?

Lady T. 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 sherbert. Aye, aye, 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 G. Well, certainly you have the most elegant taste

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

Lady G. Oh! Have a care of that.

Lady T. Nay, if he should, I may thank my own wise father for it.

Lady G. How so?

Lady T. Why, when my good Lord first opened his honorable trenches before me, my unaccountable whose hands I then was, gave me up at discretion.

Lady G. How do you mean?

Lady T. 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 pinmoney; so that my whole train of separate inclinations are left entirely at the mercy of a husband's odd humour.

papa, in

· Lady G. 'Why, that indeed is enough to make a woman of spirit look about her.

Lady T. Nay, but to be serious, my dear-What would you really have a woman do in my case ?

Lady G. Why if I had a sober husband as you have, I would make myself the happiest wife in the world, by be. ing as sober as he.

Lady T. 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 ine. 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 & ball, and at an opera-I expire. Then I love play to dis. traction ; cards enchant me--and dice-put me out of my little wits. Dear, dear hazard ! O what a flow of spirits it gives one! Do you never play at hazard, child ?

Lady G. Oh, never! I dont think it sits well upon wo. men ; 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 passa ion--why

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

Lady G. Well, and upon ill luck, pray what words are you really forced to make use of ?

Lady T. 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 gulph and-swallow it.

Lady G. Well--and is it not enough to make you forswear play as long as you live?

Lady T. Oh yes: I have forsworn it.
Lady G. Seriously?

Lady T. Solemnly, a thousand tines; but then one is constantly forsworn.

Lady G. And how can you answer that?

Lady T. 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 G. Why, I confess my nature and my eduoation o in a good degree confine me that way.

Lady T. Well, how a woman of spirit (for you don't ant that, child,) can dream of living soberly, is to me inonceivable; for you will marry, I suppose. . Lady G. I can't tell but I may. Lady T. And wont you live in town? Lady G. Half the year I should like it very well. Lady T. My stars! And you would really live in Lonlon half the year, to be sober in it! Lady G. Whiy not? Lady T. Why can't you as well go and be sober in the ountry? Lady G. So I would-t'other half year. Lady T. And pray, What comfortable scheme of life would

you form now for your summer and winter sober Entertainments ? Lady G. A scheme that I think might very well content

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Lady T. Oh, of all things, let's hear it.

Lady G. 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 at 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 T. Well, my dear, thou art an astonishing creature! For such primitive antediluvian notions of life have have not been in any head these thousand years. Under a great tree! ha! ha! ha! But I beg we may have the sober town scheme too--for I am charmed with the country one. Lady G. You shall, and I try to stick to my sobriety

Lady T. Well, though I am sure it will give me the vapours, I must hear it.

Lady G. Well, 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

there too.

Attend you both; continual discord make
Your days and nights bitter and grievous still:
May the hard hand of a vexatious need
Oppress and grind you; till, at last; you find
The curse of disobedience all your portion.

Jaff. Half of your curse you have bestow'd in vain :
Heaven has already crown'd our faithful loves
With a young boy, sweet as his mother's beauty.
May he live to prove more gentle than his grandsire,
And happier than his father.

Pri. No more.
Jaff. Yes, all; and then--adieu forever.
There's not a wretch that lives on common charity
But's happier than I; for I have known
The luscious sweets of plenty ; every night
Have slept with soft content about my head,
And never wak'd but to a joyful morning ;
Yet now must fall; like a full ear of corn,
Whose blossom 'scap'd, yet's wither'd in the ripening.

Pri. Home and be humble, study to retrench;
Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall,
Those pageants of thy folly;
Reduce the glitt'ring trappings of thy wife,
To humble weeds, fit for thy little state:
Then to some suburb cottage both retire:
Drudge to feed a loathsome life.
Home, home, I say.-

Jaff. Yes, if my heart would let me-
This proud, this swelling heart, home would I go,
But that my doors are hateful to my eyes,
Filld and damm'd up with gaping creditors.
I've now not fifty ducats in the world ;
Yet still I am in love, and pleas'd with ruin.
Oh, Belvidera! Oh! She is my wife-
And we will bear our wayward fate together-
But ne'er know comfort more.

way, this

IV.- Boniface and Aimwell.-BEAUX STRATAGEM, Bon. THIS


Aim. Your'e my landlord, I suppose.

Bon. Yes, Sir, I'm old Will Boniface; pretty well known upon this road, as the saying is.

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