Lord _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 do----fairly shew it him, and
say I advis'd 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 your best way of preventing his addresses.
Lady _Grace._ But what pretence have I to put him out of countenance?
Lord _Town._ I can't think there's any fear of that.
Lady _Grace._ Pray what is't you do think then?
Lord _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.
Lord _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.
Lady _Grace._ He will be here presently: He is but just gone in to my
sister.
_Man._ So! then my Lady dines with us.
Lady _Grace._ No; she is engag'd.
_Man._ I hope you are not of her party, Madam?
Lady _Grace._ Not till after dinner.
_Man._ And pray how may she have dispos'd 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
charm'd with.
_Man._ And yet I have found that very difficult in my time.
Lady _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 pleas'd when I was at quiet
without 'em.
Lady _Grace._ What induc'd 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 toyshop, there was no
forbearing the bawbles.
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 pow'r, 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 nusances, just alike; tho' they seem
very different: The first are always plaguing the Men; and the other
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.
_Man._ Of being chaste, they mean; for they know no other virtue: and,
upon the credit of that, they traffick 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.
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
attain'd 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
reflexion!
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 enjoin'd 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 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 hands.
Lady _Grace._ Inclos'd 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 oblige me, Madam.
[_He takes the other Letter and reads._
Lady _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.
Lady _Grace._ I have no notion of what could be proposed by it.
_Man._ A little patience, Madam----First, as to the insinuation you
mention----
Lady _Grace._ O! what is he going to say now!
[_Aside._
_Man._ Tho' my intimacy with my Lord may have allow'd 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 plac'd 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.
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
uneasiness,----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 suppose then, this
_Myrtilla_ is a real, or a fictitious name?
_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 oblig'd, 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.
Lady _Grace._ Nay! but dinner's just coming up.
_Man._ Madam, I can neither eat, nor rest, till I see an end of this
affair!
Lady _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~._
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? 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
manag'd 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.
_Enter Mrs. ~Trusty~._
Well, Mrs. _Trusty_, is my sister dress'd yet?
_Trusty._ Yes, Madam, but my Lord has been courting her so, I think,
'till they are both out of humour.
Lady _Grace._ How so?
_Trusty._ Why, it begun, Madam, with his Lordship's desiring her
Ladyship to dine at home to-day----upon which my Lady said she could
not be ready; upon that, my Lord order'd them to stay the dinner, and
then my Lady order'd the coach; then my Lord took her short, and said,
he had order'd the coachman to set up: Then my Lady made him a great
curt'sy, and said, she would wait 'till his Lordship's horses had
din'd, and was mighty pleasant: But for fear of the worst, Madam, she
whisper'd me----to get her chair ready.
[_Exit ~Trusty~._
Lady _Grace._ O! here they come; and, by their looks, seem 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!
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----I can't mend
them----you know I have try'd to do it an hundred times, and--it hurts
me so--I can't bear it!
Lord _Town._ And I, Madam, can'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 forc'd
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 dearning an old ruffle, to make it worse than it was before.
Lord _Town._ Well, the manner of womens 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, 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!
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 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?
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
unavoidable mixture with known rakes, conceal'd thieves, and Sharpers
in embroidery----or what, to me, is still more shocking, that herd of
familiar chattering crop-ear'd 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.
Lord _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!
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 reduc'd 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, at well as the Assemblies.
Lord _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.
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 ungovern'd 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._ You'd make a man a fool.
Lady _Town._ If Heav'n has made you otherwise, that won't be in my
power.
Lord _Town._ Whatever may be in your inclination, Madam; I'll prevent
you making me a Beggar at least.
Lady _Town._ A Beggar! _Crœsus_! I'm out of Patience! I won't come home
'till four to-morrow morning.
Lord _Town._ That may be, Madam; but I'll order the doors to be lock'd
at twelve.
Lady _Town._ Then I won't come home 'till to-morrow night.
Lord _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 us'd 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 my 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, tho' you were a lady.
_Man._ [_Aside._] What a well bred age do we live in?
[_Exit ~Manly~._
_Enter Lady ~Grace~._
Lady _Town._ O! 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 fluster 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._ O! 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 want of something to talk upon.
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, 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 entertain'd us.
Lady _Grace._ Certainly that must be vastly pretty.
Lady _Town._ O! there's no life like it! why t'other day for example,
when you din'd abroad; my Lord and I, after a pretty chearful _tête
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 turn'd of Two, says I----I was in
bed--aw----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 amaz'd,
says I, at a thing that happens so often?----upon which we enter'd into
a conversation----and tho' this is a point has entertain'd 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 (tho'
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.