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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, 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 a 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 passion-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 for swear play as long as you live?

Lady T. Oh yes: I have forsworn it.

Lady G. Seriously?

Lady T. Solemnly, a thousand times; 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 design to live soberly.

prude, and

Lady G. Why, I confess my nature and my education lo 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. Why not?

Lady T. Why can't you as well go and be sober in the Country?

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?

us.

Lady G. A scheme that I think might very well content

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'll try to stick to my sobriety

there too.

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

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,
Fill'd 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.

-

[Exit.

IV. Boniface and Aimwell.-BEAUX STRATAGEM. Bon. THIS way, this way, Sir.

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.

Aim. O, Mr. Boniface, your servant.

Bon. O, Sir-What will your honour please to drink, as the saying is ?

Aim. I have heard your town of Litchfield much famed for ale; I think I'll taste that.

chila

Bon. Sir I have now in my cellar ten tun of the best ale in Staffordshire; 'tis smooth as oil, sweet as milk, clear as amber, and strong as brandy; and will be just fourteen years old on the fifth day of next March, old style. Aim. You're very exact, I find, in the age of your ale. Bon. As punctual, Sir, as I am in the age of my dren-I'll show you such ale !-Here, tapster, broach number 1706, as the saying is. -Sir, you shall taste my anno domini.-I have lived in Litchfield, man and boy, above eight and fifty years, and I believe, have not consumed eight and fifty ounces of meat.

Aim. At a meal, you mean, if one may guess by your bulk.

Bon. Not in my life, Sir: I have fed purely upon ale: I have eat my ale, drank my ale, and I always sleep upon ale. [Enter tapster, with a tankard. Now, Sir, you shall see. Your worship's health: [drinks] -Ha! Delicious, delicious! Fancy it Burgundy, only fancy it and 'tis worth ten shillings a quart.

Aim. [drinks] 'Tis confounded strong.

Bon. Strong! It must be so, or how should we be strong. that drink it!

Aim. And have you lived so long upon this ale, landlord?

Bon. Eight and fifty years upon my credit, Sir; but it killed my wife, poor woman, as the saying is.

Aim. How came that to pass!

Bon. I don't know how, Sir-She would not let the ale take its natural course, Sir; she was for qualifying it every now and then with a dram, as the saying is; and an honest gentleman, that came this way from Ireland, made her a present of a dozen bottles of usquebaugh-but the poor woman was never well after-but, however, I was obliged to the gentleman, you know.

Aim. Why, Was it the usquebaugh that killed her?

Bon. My lady Bountiful said so-she, good lady, did what could be done; she cured her of three tympanies

but the fourth carried her off. But she's happy, and I'm contented, as the saying is.

Aim. Who is that lady Bountiful you mentioned ? Bon. Odd's my life, Sir, we'll drink her health:-[drinks] -My lady Bountiful is one of the best of women. Her last husband, Sir Charles Bountiful, left her worth a thousand pounds a year; and I believe she lays out one half on't in charitable uses, for the good of her neighbours.

Aim. Has the lady been any other way useful in her generation?

Bon. Yes, Sir, she has had a daughter by Sir Charlesthe finest woman in all our country, and the greatest fortune. She has a son too, by her first husband; 'squite Sullen, who married a fine lady from London t'other day; if you please, Sir, we'll drink his health. [drinks]

Aim. What sort of a man is he?

Bon. Why, Sir, the man's well enough; says little, thinks less, and does-nothing at all, faith; but he's a inan of great estate, and values nobody.

Aim. A sportsman, I suppose!

Bon. Yes, he's a man of pleasure; he plays at whist, and smokes his pipe eight and forty hours together some

times.

Aim. A fine sportsman truly !-and married, you say

?

Bon. Ay; and to a curious woman, Sir-But he's my landlord; and so a man, you know, would not--Sir, my humble service to you. [drinks.]--Though I value not a farthing what he can do to me; I pay him his rent at quarter day I have a good running trade-I have but one daughter, and I can give her-but no matter for that. Aim. You're very happy, Mr. Boniface; pray What other company have you in town?

Bon. A power of fine ladies; and then we have the French Officers.

Aim. O, that's right, you have a good many of those gentlemen: Pray how do you like their company?

Bon. So well as the saying is, that I could wish we had as many more of them. They're full of money, and pay double for every thing they have. They know, Sir, that we paid good round taxes for the taking of 'em ;—and so they are willing to reimburse us a little; one of 'em lodges in my house. [Bell rings]I beg your worship's pardon- -I'll wait on you again in half a minute.

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