Less of yourselves you'll think, and more
Of others, than you did before.

You'll learn that in their own right sphere
All things with dignity appear;

And have, when in their proper place

Peculiar use, intrinsic grace."

Methought the polished Scissors blushed

To have said so much and all was hushed.

MRS. FOLLEN.

QUEER; odd, droll, singular. BOUQUET; bo-ka'; a bunch of flowers LACKEY; servant. EMERY; a hard mineral, used for polishing steel MAULED; pounded, bruised. UNCOUTH; impolite, awkward. INTRINSIC; genuine, inherent.

Shendan

SCENE BETWEEN SIR PETER TEAZLE AND LADY TEAZLE.

Sir Peter. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it! Lady Teazle. Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in every thing, and what's more, I will, too. What though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married. Sir P. Very well, ma'am, very well! so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?

Lady T. Authority! No, to be sure. If you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me,

married me; I am sure you were old enough.

and not

Sir P. Old enough! ay, there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance.

Lady T. My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of fashion ought to be.

Sir P. No, no, madam; you shall throw away no more

sums on such unmeaning luxury. Odds-life! to spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a greenhouse.

Lady T. Lord, Sir Peter, am I to blame because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, not with me. For my part, I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet.

Sir P. Zounds, madam! if you had been born to this, 1 shouldn't wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I married you.

Lady T. No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you.

Sir P. Yes, yes, madam; you were then in somewhat a humbler style the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side ; your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your own working.

Lady T. O, yes; I remember it very well, and a curious life I led. My daily occupation to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family receiptbook, and comb my aunt Deborah's lapdog.

Sir P. Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed.

Lady T. And then, you know, my evening amusements. To draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up, to play Pope Joan with the curate, to read a novel to my aunt, or to be stuck down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.

;

Sir P. I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these were the recreations I took from you but now you must have your coach, and three powdered footmen before your chair! and, in the summer, a pair of white colts to draw you to Kensington Gardens. No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, behind the butler, on a docked coach-horse.

Lady T. No, I never did that; I deny the butler and the coach-horse.

Sir P. This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done for you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank; in short, I have made you my wife.

Lady T. Well, then; and there is but one thing more you can make me, to add to the obligation, and that is

Sir P. My widow, I suppose?

Lady T Hem! hem!

Sir P. I thank you, madam, but don't flatter yourself; for though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you: however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.

Lady T. Then why will you endeavor to make yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense?

Sir P. Odds-life, madam! I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me?

Lady T. Mercy, Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?

Sir P. The fashion, indeed? What had you to do with the fashion before you married me?

Lady T. For my part, I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of taste. Sir P. Ay, there again; taste - zounds! madam, you had no taste when you married me.

Lady T. That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter; and after having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow; but now, Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's.

Sir P. Ay, there's another precious circumstance; a charming set of acquaintance you have made there.

Lady T. Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation.

vengeance; for they don't choose any body should have a character but themselves. Such a crew! Ah! many a

wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation.

Lady T. What! would you restrain the freedom of speech?

Sir P. Ah! they have made you just as bad as any one of their society.

Lady T. Why I believe I do bear a part with a tolerable grace.

Sir P. Grace, indeed!

Lady T. But truly, I bear no malice against the people 1 abuse. When I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure good humor; and I take it for granted they deal exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's, too.

Sir P. Well, well, I'll call in just to look after my own character.

Lady T. Then indeed you must make haste after me, or you'll be too late. So good-by to ye.

[Exit Lady Teazle.

Sir P. So- I have gained much by my intended expostulation; yet, with what a charming air she contradicts every thing I say, and how pleasingly she shows her contempt for my authority! Well, when an old bachelor marries a young wife, what is he to expect? 'Tis now six months since Lady Teazle made me the happiest of men — and I have been the most miserable dog ever since. We tiffed a little going to before the bells had done

church, and came to a quarrel ringing, and I had nearly lost all comfort in life before my friends had done wishing me joy. Yet I chose with caution a girl bred wholly in the country, who never krew luxury beyond one silk gown, nor dissipation above the annual gala of a race ball. Yet she now plays her part in all the extravagant fopperies of fashion and the town with as ready

a grace as if she had never seen a bush or a grass-plot out of Grosvenor Square! I am sneered at by all my ucquaintance, and paragraphed in the newspapers. She dissipates my fortune and contradicts all my humors; yet the worst of it is, I doubt I love her, or I should never bear all this. However, I'll never be weak enough to own it.

SHERIDAN..

THE BUSY IDLER AND THE FASHIONABLE IDLER.

As industry is habitual activity in some useful pursuit, so not only inactivity, but also all efforts without the design of usefulness, are of the nature of idleness. The supine sluggard is no more indolent than the busy, bustling do-nothing. Men may walk much, read much, talk much, and pass the day without an unoccupied moment, and yet be substan tially idle; because industry requires, at least, the intention of usefulness.

But gadding, gazing, lounging, mere pleasure-mongering, reading for the relief of ennui, these are as useless as sleeping, dozing, or the stupidity of a surfeit.

He

The busy, buzzing idler attends closely to every body's business except his own. His wife earns his children's bread, while he is busy watching the building of a neighbor's barn, or advising him how to trim and train his vines. has good advice for every one how to save money, how to make money, and how to do every thing. He can tell the saddler about his trade, and he can give advice to the smith about his work. He is a reader of newspapers, almanacs, and receipt-books, and with scraps of history and mutilated anecdotes he faces every one, and gives up only to the village lawyer.

The fashionable idler has perhaps a fine form and manly