did not mix a little of the acid with it, a matrimonial society would be so luscious, that there would be no bearing 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 bout; for it grew so sour at last, that-I think-I almost told him he was a fool-and again, he-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. 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 being as sober as he.

Lady T. Oh, you wicked thing! how could you tease 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 asssemblies-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 G. 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 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 gulp-and swallow it.

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

Lady T. Oh, yes-I have fursw rn 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 a prude, and design to live soberly

Lady G. Why, I confess, my nature and my education do, in a good degree, incline me that way.

Lady T. 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, 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 London 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?

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

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

Lady G. Why, in summer, I could pass my leisure hours 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 of 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, sure, such primitive antediluvian notions of life have not been in any head these thousand yearsUnder a great tree! [Laughing.] Oh, my soul ! 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, however.

Lady G. Why, 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 I can't think it any disgrace to a woman of my private fortune, not to wear her lace as fine as the wedding-suit of a first duchess. Though there is one extravagance I would venture to come up to

Lady T. Ay, now for it!

Lady G. I would every day be as neat as a bride.

Lady T. Why, the men say that's a great step to be made one. Well, now you are dressed, pray let's see to what purpose?

Lady G. I would visit—that is, my real friends; but as little for form as possible.-I would go to courtsometimes to an assembly-nay, play at quadrille-soberly; I would see all the good plays; and, because 'tis the fashion, now and then an opera-but I would not expire there, for fear I should never go again: and, lastly. I can't say but, for curiosity, if I liked my company, I might be drawn in once to a masquerade: and this, I think, is as far as any woman can go-soberly!

Lady T. Well, if it had not been for this last piece of sobriety, I was just going to call for some surfeit-water.

Lady G. Why, don't you think, with the farther aid of breakfasting, dining, and taking the air, supping, sleeping, not to say a word of devotion, the four-andtwenty hours might roll over in a tolerable manner?

Lady T. Tolerable? deplorable! Why, child, all you propose is but to endure life; now, I want to enjoy it.

Enter MRS. TRusty, L.

Mrs. T. (L.) Ma'am, your ladyship's chair is ready. Lady T. Have the footmen their white flambeaux yet? for last night I was poisoned.

Mrs. T. Yes, ma'am, there were some come in this morning. [Exit, L. Lady T. (L. C.) My dear, you will excuse ine; but you know my time is so precious

Lady G. That I beg I may not hinder your least enjoyment of it.

Lady T. You will call on me at Lady Revel's?

Lady G. Certainly.

Lady T. But I am so afraid it will break into your scheme, my dear!

Lady G. When it does, I will-soberly break from you.

Lady T. Why then, till we meet again, dear sister, I wish you all tolerable happiness.

[Facit, L. Lady G. There she goes!-Dash, into her stream of pleasures! Poor woman, she is really a fine creature ; and sometimes infinitely agreeable! Nay, take her out of the madness of this town, rational in her notions, and easy to live with; but she is so borne down by this torrent of vanity in vogue, she thinks every hour of her life is lost, that she does not lead at the head of it. What it will end in I tremble to imagine ! [Exit, R.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.—Mrs. Motherly's House.

Enter SIR FRANCIS WRONGHEAD, L.

Sir Fran. (R. C.) What! my wife and daughter abroad, say you?

Mrs. M. (c.) Oh, dear sir, they have been mighty busy all day long; they just came home to snap up a short dinner, and so went out again.

Sir Fran. Well, well, I sha'n't stay supper for them, I can tell them that: for, ods heart! I have nothing in me, but a toast and tankard, since morning.

Mrs. M. I am afraid, sir, these late parliament hours won't agree with you.

Sir Fran. Why, truly, Mrs. Motherly, they don't do right with us country gentlemen; to lose one meal out of three is a hard tax upon a good stomach.

Mrs. M. It is so, indeed, sir.

Sir Fran. But howsomever, Mrs. Motherly, when we consider that what we suffer is for the good of our country

Mrs. M. Why truly, sir, that is something.

Sir Fran. Oh, there's a great deal to be said for't. I have heard of some gentlemen so very zealous, that, for

the good of their country, they would sometimes go to dinner at midnight.

Mrs. M. Oh, the goodness of them! sure their country must have a vast esteem for them?

Sir Fran. So they have, Mrs. Motherly; they are so respected, when they come home to their boroughs after a session, and so beloved, that their country will come and dine with them every day in the week.

Mrs. M. Dear me! what a fine thing 'tis to be so populous !-Here's company, sir.

Enter MANLY, L.

Manly. (L.) Sir Francis, your servant.
Sir Fran. (c.) Cousin Manly!

[Exit, R.

Manly. I am come to see how the family goes on here.

Sir Fran. Troth, all as busy as bees! I have been upon the wing ever since eight o'clock this morning.

Manly. (L. C.) By your early hour, then, I suppose you have been making your court to some of the great men.

Sir Fran. Why, 'faith, you have hit it, sir! I was advised to lose no time; so I e'en went straight forward to one great man I had never seen in my life before.

Manly. Right! that was doing business: but who had you to introduce you?

Sir Fran. Why, nobody. I remember I had heard a wise man say-My son, be bold-so, troth, I introduced myself.

Manly. As how, pray?

Sir Fran. Why, thus-look ye.-Please your lordship, says I, I am Sir Francis Wronghead, of Bumper Hail, and member of Parliament for the borough of Guzzledown. Sir, your humble servant, says my lord; thof' I have not the honour to know your person, I have heard you are a very honest gentleman, and I am glad your borough has made choice of so worthy a representative; and so, says he, Sir Francis, have you any service to command me? Naw, cousin, those last words, you may be sure, gave me no small encouragement, And thof' I know, sir, you have no extraordinary opi. nion of my parts, yet, I believe, you won't say I mist it

naw!

Manly, Well, I hope I shall have no cause.

Sir Fran. So, when I found him so courteous-my lord, says I, I did not think to ha' troubled your lord.