Act 3 — ACT III. SCENE I.

SCENE, the Lord Townly's House.

Enter Lord Townly, a Servant attending.

Lord Town. Who's there!

Serv. My Lord.

Lord Town. Bid them get dinner——Lady Grace, your Servant.

Enter Lady Grace.

Lady Grace. What, is the house up already? My Lady is not drest yet!

Lord Town. No matter—it's three o'clock—she may break my rest, but she shall not alter my hours.

Lady Grace. Nay, you need not fear that now, for she dines abroad.

Lord Town. That, I suppose, is only an excuse for her not being ready yet.

Lady Grace. No, upon my word, she is engaged to company.

Lord Town. Where, pray?

Lady Grace. At my Lady Revel's; and you know they never dine 'till supper-time.

Lord Town. No truly——she is one of those orderly Ladies, who never let the sun shine upon any of their vices!—--But pr'ythee, Sister, what humour is she in to-day?

Lady Grace. O! in tip-top spirits, I can assure you——she won a good deal, last night.

Lord Town. I know no difference between her winning or losing, while she continues her course of life.

Lady Grace. However she is better in good Humour, than bad.

Lord Town. Much alike: When she is in good humour, other people only are the better for it: When in a very ill humour, then, indeed, I seldom fail to have my share of her.

Lady Grace. Well, we won't talk of that now——Does any body dine here?

Lord Town. Manly promis'd me—by the way, Madam, what do you think of his last conversation?

Lady Grace.——I am a little at a stand about it.

Lord Town. How so?

Lady Grace. Why——I don't know how he can ever have any thoughts of me, that could lay down such severe rules upon wives, in my hearing.

Lord Town. Did you think his rules unreasonable?

Lady Grace. I can't say I did: But he might have had a little more complaisance before me, at least.

Lord Town. Complaisance is only a proof of good breeding: But his plainness was a certain proof of his honesty; nay, of his good opinion of you: For he would never have open'd himself so freely, but in confidence that your good sense could not be disobliged at it.

Lady Grace. My good opinion of him, Brother, has hitherto been guided by yours: But I have receiv'd a letter this morning that shews him a very different Man from what I thought him.

Lord Town. A letter from whom?

Lady Grace. That I don't know, but there it is.

[Gives a Letter.

Lord Town. Pray let's see.

[Reads.

The Inclos'd, Madam, fell accidentally into my hands; if it no way concerns you, you will only have the trouble of reading this, from your sincere Friend and humble Servant, Unknown, &c.

Lady Grace. And this was the inclos'd.

[Giving another.

Lord Town. [Reads.] To Charles Manly, Esq.

Your manner of living with me of late, convinces me, that I now grow as painful to you, as to myself: but however, though you can love me no longer, I hope you will not let me live worse than I did, before I left an honest Income, for the vain Hopes of being ever Yours.

Myrtilla Dupe.

P. S. 'Tis above four Months since I receiv'd a Shilling from you.

Lady Grace. What think you now?

Lord Town. I am considering——

Lady Grace. You see it's directed to him——

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.

Lady Grace. Well,——certainly you have the most elegant taste——

Lady Town. Tho' to tell you the truth, my Dear, I rather think we squeez'd 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 he again——talk'd something oddly of——turning me out of doors.

Lady Grace. O! have a care of that!

Lady Town. Nay, if he should, I may thank my own wise father for that——

Lady Grace. How so?

Lady Town. Why——when my good Lord first open'd his honourable trenches before me, my unaccountable Papa, in whose hands I then was, gave me up at discretion.

Lady Grace. How do you mean?

Lady Town. 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 pin-money; so that my whole train of separate inclinations are left entirely at the mercy of an husband's odd humours.

Lady Grace. Why, that, indeed, is enough to make a woman of spirit look about her!

Lady Town. Nay, but to be serious; my Dear; what would you really have a woman do in my case?

Lady Grace. 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 Town. O! you wicked thing! how can you teize 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 assemblies! my heart bounds at a ball; and at an Opera——I expire! then I love play to distraction! Cards inchant 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 Grace. Oh! never! I don't think it fits well upon women; there is 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 Town. That's very true! one is a little put to it, sometimes, not to make use of the same words to express it.

Lady Grace. Well——and, upon ill luck, pray what words are you really forc'd to make use of?

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

Lady Town. O yes! I have forsworn it.

Lady Grace. Seriously?

Lady Town. Solemnly! a thousand times; but then one is constantly forsworn.

Lady Grace. And how can you answer that?

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

Lady Town. 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 Grace. I can't tell but I may.

Lady Town. And won't you live in town?

Lady Grace. Half the year, I should like it very well.

Lady Town. My stars! and you would really live in London half the year to be sober in it!

Lady Grace. Why not?

Lady Town. Why can't you as well go, and be sober in the country?

Lady Grace. So I would——t'other half year.

Lady Town. And pray what comfortable scheme of life would you form now, for your summer and winter sober entertainments?

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

Lady Town. O! of all things let's hear it.

Lady Grace. Why, in summer, I cou'd 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 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 Town. Well, my dear, thou art an astonishing creature! for sure such primitive antediluvian notions of life, have not been in any head these thousand years——Under a great tree! O my soul!—--But I beg we may have the sober town scheme too——for I am charmed with the country one!

Lady Grace. You shall, and I'll try to stick to my sobriety there too.

Lady Town. Well, tho' I'm sure it will give me the vapours, I must hear it however.

Lady Grace. 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 a wedding-suit of a first Dutchess. Tho' there is one extravagance I would venture to come up to.

Lady Town. Ay, now for it——

Lady Grace. I would every day be as clean as a bride.

Lady Town. Why the men say, that's a great step to be made one——Well now you are drest——pray let's see to what purpose.

Lady Grace. I would visit—that is, my real friends; but as little for form as possible.——I would go to court; sometimes 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 lik'd my company, I might be drawn in once to a masquerade! And this, I think, is as far at any woman can go——soberly.

Lady Town. Well! if it had not been for that last piece of sobriety, I was just going to call for some surfeit water.

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

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

Enter Mrs. Trusty.

Trus. Madam, your Ladyship's chair is ready.

Lady Town. Have the Footmen their white flambeaux yet? for last night I was poison'd.

Trus. Yes, madam: there were some come in this morning.

[Exit Trusty.

Lady Town. My dear, you will excuse me; but you know my time is so precious——

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

Lady Town. You will call on me at Lady Revel's?

Lady Grace. Certainly.

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

Lady Grace. When it does, I will——soberly break from you.

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

[Exit Lady Town.

Lady Grace. 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——Ha! my brother, and Manly with him! I guess what they have been talking of——I shall hear it in my turn, I suppose, but it won't become me to be inquisitive.

[Exit Lady Grace.

Enter Lord Townly and Manly.

Lord Town. I did not think my Lady Wronghead had such a notable brain: tho' I can't say she was so very wise, in trusting this silly girl you call Myrtilla, with the secret.

Man. No, my Lord, you mistake me, had the girl been in the secret, perhaps I had never come at it myself.

Lord Town. Why I thought you said the girl writ this letter, to you, and that my Lady Wronghead sent it inclos'd to my sister?

Man. If you please to give me leave, my Lord——the fact is thus.—This inclos'd letter to Lady Grace was a real original one, written by this girl, to the Count we have been talking of: the Count drops it, and my Lady Wronghead finds it: then only changing the cover, she seals it up as a letter of business, just written by herself, to me: and pretending to be in a hurry, gets this innocent girl to write the direction, for her.

Lord Town. Oh! then the girl did not know she was superscribing a billet-doux of her own to you?

Man. No, my Lord; for when I first question'd her about the direction, she own'd it immediately: but when I shew'd her that the letter to the Count was within it, and told her how it came into my hands, the poor creature was amazed and thought herself betray'd both by the Count and my Lady——in short, upon this discovery the girl and I grew so gracious, that she has let me into some transactions, in my Lady Wronghead's family, which, with my having a careful eye over them, may prevent the ruin of it.

Lord Town. You are very generous to be so solicitous for a Lady that has given you so much uneasiness.

Man. But I will be most unmercifully reveng'd of her: for I will do her the greatest friendship in the world——against her will.

Lord Town. What an uncommon philosophy art thou master of? to make even thy malice a virtue?

Man. Yet, my Lord, I assure you, there is no one action of my life gives me more pleasure than your approbation of it.

Lord Town. Dear Charles! my heart's impatient, 'till thou art nearer to me: and as a proof that I have long wished thee so: while your daily conduct has chosen rather to deserve than ask my sister's favour; I have been as secretly industrious to make her sensible of your merit: and since on this occasion you have open'd your whole heart to me, 'tis now with equal pleasure, I assure you, we have both succeeded——she is as firmly yours——

Man. Impossible! you flatter me!

Lord Town. I am glad you think it flattery: but she herself shall prove it none: she dines with us alone: when the servants are withdrawn, I'll open a conversation, that shall excuse my leaving you together—O! Charles! had I, like thee, been cautious in my choice, what melancholy hours had this heart avoided!

Man. No more of that, I beg, my Lord——

Lord Town. But 'twill, at least, be some relief to my anxiety (however barren of content the state has been to me) to see so near a friend and sister happy in it: your harmony of life will be an instance how much the choice of temper is preferable to beauty.

[Exeunt.