Part 14

Lady _Ara._ O, the prettiest thing in the world.

_Clar._ But yet, tho' I believe there's no life so happy as a marry'd one, in the main; yet I fancy, where two people are so very much together, they must often be in want of something to talk upon.

Lady _Ara._ _Clarinda_, 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 now, here's my Lord and I, we han't 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 talk of any of them for two hours together, and the subject never the flatter. It will be as fresh next day, if we have occasion for it, as it was the first day it entertained us.

_Clar._ Why that must be wonderful pretty.

Lady _Ara._ O there's no life like it. This very day now for example, my Lord and I, after a pretty cheerful _tête à tête_ dinner, sat down by the fire-side, in an idle, indolent, pick-tooth way for a while, as if we had not thought of one another's being in the room. At last, stretching himself, and yawning twice, my dear, says he, you came home very late last night. 'Twas but two in the morning, says I. I was in bed (_yawning_) by eleven, says he. So you are every night, says I. Well, says he, I'm amazed how you can sit up so late. How can you be amazed, says I, at a thing that happens so often? Upon which we enter'd into 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't, that I believe in my soul it will last as long as we live.

_Clar._ But in such sort of family dialogues, tho' extremely well for passing of time, don't there now and then enter some little sort of bitterness?

Lady _Ara._ O yes; which don't do amiss at all; a little something that's sharp, moderates the extreme sweetness of matrimonial society, which would else perhaps be cloying. Tho' to tell you the truth, _Clarinda_, I 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 he talkt something oddly of turning me out of doors.

_Clar._ O, but have a care of that.

Lady _Ara._ Why, to be serious, _Clarinda_, what wou'd you have a woman do in my case? There is no one thing he can do in the world to please me----Except giving me money; and that he is grown weary of; 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 that he hates; I dote upon assemblies, adore masquerades, my heart bounds at a ball; I love a play to distraction, cards inchant me, and dice--put me out of my little wits--Dear, dear hazard, what music there is in the rattle of the dice, compared to a sleepy opera! Do you ever play at hazard, _Clarinda_?

_Clar._ Never; I don't think it fits well upon women; it's very masculine, and has too much of a rake; you see how it makes the men swear and curse. Sure it must incline the women to do the same too if they durst give way to it.

Lady _Ara._ So it does; but hitherto for a little decency, we keep it in; and when in spite of our teeth, an oath gets into our mouths, we swallow it.

_Clar._ That's enough to burst you; but in time perhaps you'll let 'em fly as they do.

Lady _Ara._ Why, 'tis probable we may, for the pleasure of all polite womens lives now, you know, is founded upon entire liberty to do what they will. But shall I tell you what happened t'other night? having lost all my money but ten melancholy guineas, and throwing out for them, what do you think slipt from me?

_Clar._ An oath?

Lady _Ara._ Gud soons!

_Clar._ O Lord! O Lord! did not it frighten you out of your wits?

Lady _Ara._ _Clarinda_, I thought a gun had gone off.--But I forget you are a prude, and design to live soberly.

_Clar._ Why 'tis true; both my nature and education, do in a good degree incline me that way.

Lady _Ara._ Well, surely to be sober is to be terribly dull. You will marry; won't you?

_Clar._ I can't tell but I may.

Lady _Ara._ And you'll live in town?

_Clar._ Half the year, I should like it very well.

Lady _Ara._ And you wou'd live in _London_ half a year, to be sober in it?

_Clar._ Yes.

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

_Clar._ So I wou'd the other half year.

Lady _Ara._ And pray what pretty scheme of life wou'd you form now, for your summer and winter sober entertainments?

_Clar._ A scheme that I think might very well content us.

Lady _Ara._ Let's hear it.

_Clar._ I cou'd in summer pass my time very agreeably, in riding soberly, in walking soberly, in sitting under a tree soberly, in gardening soberly, in reading soberly, in hearing a little music soberly, in conversing with some agreeable friends soberly, in working soberly, in managing my family and children (if I had any) soberly, and possibly by these means I might induce my husband to be as sober as myself.

Lady _Ara._ Well, _Clarinda_, thou art a most contemptible creature. But let's have the sober town scheme too, for I am charm'd with the country one.

_Clar._ You shall, and I'll try to stick to my sobriety there too.

Lady _Ara._ If you do, you'll make me sick of you. But let's hear it however.

_Clar._ I wou'd entertain myself in observing the new fashion soberly, I wou'd please myself in new clothes soberly, I wou'd divert myself with agreeable friends at home and abroad soberly. I wou'd play at quadrille soberly, I wou'd go to court soberly, I wou'd go to some plays soberly, I wou'd go to operas soberly, and I think I cou'd go once, or, if I lik'd my company, twice to a masquerade, soberly.

Lady _Ara._ If it had not been for that last piece of sobriety, I was going to call for some surfeit-water.

_Clar._ Why, don't you think, that with the further aid of breakfasting, dining, supping and sleeping (not to say a word of devotion) the four and twenty hours might roll over in a tolerable manner?

Lady _Ara._ How I detest that word, Tolerable! And so will a country relation of ours that's newly come to town, or I'm mistaken.

_Clar._ Who is that?

Lady _Ara._ Even my dear Lady _Headpiece_.

_Clar._ Is she come?

Lady _Ara._ Yes, her sort of a tolerable husband has gotten to be chosen parliament-man at some simple town or other, upon which she has persuaded him to bring her and her folks up to _London_.

_Clar._ That's good; I think she was never here before.

Lady _Ara._ Not since she was nine years old; but she has had an outrageous mind to it ever since she was marry'd.

_Clar._ Then she'll make the most of it, I suppose, now she is come.

Lady _Ara._ Depend upon that.

_Clar._ We must go and visit her.

Lady _Ara._ By all means; and may be you'll have a mind to offer her your tolerable scheme for her _London_ diversion this winter; if you do, mistress, I'll shew her mine too, and you'll see she'll so despise you and adore me, that if I do but chirrup to her, she'll hop after me like a tame sparrow, the town round. But there's your admirer I see coming in, I'll oblige him and leave you to receive part of his visit, while I step up to write a letter. Besides, to tell you the truth, I don't like him half so well as I used to do; he falls off of late from being the company he was, in our way. In short, I think he's growing to be a little like my lord.

[_Exit._

_Enter Sir ~Charles~._

Sir _Charles_. Madam, your servant; they told me Lady _Arabella_ was here.

_Clar._ She's only stept up to write a letter, she'll come down presently.

Sir _Charles_. Why, does she write letters? I thought she had never time for't: pray how may she have dispos'd of the rest of the day?

_Clar._ A good deal as usual; she has visits to make 'till six; she's then engag'd to the play, from that 'till court-time, she's to be at cards at Mrs. _Idle_'s; after the drawing-room, she takes a short supper with Lady _Hazard_, and from thence they go together to the assembly.

Sir _Charles_. And are you to do all this with her?

_Clar._ The visits and the play, no more.

Sir _Charles_. And how can you forbear all the rest?

_Clar._ 'Tis easy to forbear, what we are not very fond of.

Sir _Charles_. I han't found it so. I have past much of my life in this hurry of the ladies, yet was never so pleas'd as when I was at quiet without 'em.

_Clar._ What then induc'd you to be with 'em?

Sir _Charles_. Idleness and the fashion.

_Clar._ No mistresses in the case?

Sir _Charles_. To speak honestly, yes. When one is in a toyshop, there was no forbearing the baubles; so I was perpetually engaging with some coquet or other, whom I cou'd love perhaps just enough to put it into her power to plague me.

_Clar._ Which power I suppose she sometimes made use of.

Sir _Charles_. The amours of a coquet, Madam, general'y mean nothing farther; I look upon them and prudes to be nuisances much alike, tho' they seem very different; the first are always disturbing the men, and the latter always abusing the women.

_Clar._ And all I think is to establish the character of being virtuous.

Sir _Charles_. That is, being chaste they mean, for they know no other virtue; therefore indulge themselves in every thing else that's vicious; they (against nature) keep their chastity, only because they find more pleasure in doing mischief with it, than they shou'd have in parting with it. But, Madam, if both these characters are so odious, how highly to be valued is that woman, who can attain all they aim at, without the aid of the folly or vice of either!

_Enter Lady ~Arabella~._

Lady _Ara._ Your servant, Sir. I won't ask your pardon for leaving you alone a little with a lady that I know shares so much of your good opinion.

Sir _Charles_. I wish, Madam, she cou'd think my good opinion of value enough, to afford me a small part in hers.

Lady _Ara._ I believe, Sir, every woman who knows she has a place in a fine gentleman's good opinion, will be glad to give him one in hers, if she can. But however you two may stand in one another's, you must take another time, if you desire to talk farther about it, or we shan't have enough to make our visits in; and so your servant, Sir. Come, _Clarinda_.

Sir _Charles_. I'll stay and make my Lord a visit, if you will give me leave.

Lady _Ara._ You have my leave, Sir, tho' you were a Lady.

[_Exit with ~Clar~._

_Enter Lord ~Loverule~._

Lord _Love._ Sir _Charles_, your servant; what, have the ladies left you?

Sir _Charles_. Yes, and the ladies in general I hope will leave me too.

Lord _Love._ Why so?

Sir _Charles_. That I mayn't be put to the ill manners of leaving them first.

Lord _Love._ Do you then already find your gallantry inclining to an ebb?

Sir _Charles_. 'Tis not that I am yet old enough to justify myself in an idle retreat, but I have got I think a sort of surfeit on me, that lessens much the force of female charms.

Lord _Love._ Have you then been so glutted with their favours?

Sir _Charles_. Not with their favours, but with their service; it is unmerciful. I once thought myself a tolerable time-killer; I drank, I play'd, I intrigu'd, and yet I had hours enough for reasonable uses; but he that will list himself a lady's man of mettle now, she'll work him so at cards and dice, she won't afford him time enough to play with her at any thing else, though she herself should have a tolerable good mind to it.

Lord _Love._ And so the disorderly lives they lead, incline you to a reform of your own.

Sir _Charles_. 'Tis true; for bad examples (if they are but bad enough) give us as useful reflections as good ones do.

Lord _Love._ 'Tis pity any thing that's bad, shou'd come from women.

Sir _Charles_. 'Tis so, indeed, and there was a happy time, when both you and I thought there never could.

Lord _Love._ Our early first conceptions of them, I well remember, were that they never could be vicious, nor never could be old.

Sir _Charles_. We thought so then; the beauteous form we saw them cast in, seem'd design'd a habitation for no vice, nor no decay; all I had conceiv'd of angels, I conceiv'd of them; true, tender, gentle, modest, generous, constant, I thought was writ in every feature; and in my devotions, Heaven, how did I adore thee, that blessings like them should be the portion of such poor inferior creatures as I took myself and all men else (compared with them) to be!--but where's that adoration now?

Lord _Love._ 'Tis with such fond young fools as you and I were then.

Sir _Charles_. And with such it will ever be.

Lord _Love._ Ever. The pleasure is so great, in believing women to be what we wish them, that nothing but a long and sharp experience can ever make us think them otherwise. That experience, friend, both you and I have had, but yours has been at other mens expence; mine----at my own.

Sir _Charles_. Perhaps you'd wonder, shou'd you find me dispos'd to run the risque of that experience too.

Lord _Love._ I shou'd, indeed.

Sir _Charles_. And yet 'tis possible I may; I know at least, I still have so much of my early folly left, to think, there's yet one woman fit to make a wife of: How far such a one can answer the charms of a mistress, marry'd men are silent in, so pass----for that I'd take my chance; but cou'd she make a home easy to her partner, by letting him find there a chearful companion, an agreeable intimate, a useful assistant, a faithful friend, and (in its time perhaps) a tender mother, such change of life, from what I lead, seems not unwise to think of.

Lord _Love._ Nor unwise to purchase, if to be had for millions, but----

Sir _Charles_. But what?

Lord _Love._ If the reverse of this shou'd chance to be the bitter disappointment, what wou'd the life be then?

Sir _Charles_. A damn'd one.

Lord _Love._ And what relief?

Sir _Charles_. A short one; leave it, and return to that you left, if you can't find a better.

Lord _Love._ He says right--that's the remedy, and a just one----for if I sell my liberty for gold, and I am foully paid in brass, shall I be held to keep the bargain?

[_Aside._.

Sir _Charles_. What are you thinking of?

Lord _Love._ Of what you have said.

Sir _Charles_. And was it well said?

Lord _Love._ I begin to think it might.

Sir _Charles_. Think on, 'twill give you ease----the man who has courage enough to part with a wife need not much dread the having one; and he that has not, ought to tremble at being a husband----But perhaps I have said too much; you'll pardon however the freedom of an old friend, because you know I am so; so your servant.

[_Exit._

Lord _Love._ _Charles_, farewell, I can take nothing as ill-meant that comes from you. Nor ought my wife to think I mean amiss to her; if I convince her I'll endure no longer that she would thus expose herself and me. No doubt 'twill grieve her sorely. Physick's a loathsome thing, 'till we find it gives us health, and then we are thankful to those who made us take it. Perhaps she may do so by me, if she does, 'tis well; if not, and she resolves to make the house ring with reprisals: I believe (tho' the misfortune's great) he'll make a better figure in the world, who keeps an ill wife out of doors, than he that keeps her within.

+ACT+ III. +SCENE+ I.

_Enter Lady ~Headpiece~ and Mrs. ~Motherly~._

Lady _Head._ So, you are acquainted with Lady _Arabella_, I find.

Mrs. _Moth._ Oh, Madam, I have had the honour to know her Ladyship almost from a child, and a charming woman she has made.

Lady _Head._ I like her prodigiously; I had some acquaintance with her in the country two years ago; but she's quite another woman here.

Mrs. _Moth._ Ah, Madam, two years keeping company with the polite people of the town will do wonders in the improvement of a lady, so she has it but about her.

Lady _Head._ Now 'tis my misfortune, Mrs. _Motherly_, to come late to school.

Mrs. _Moth._ Oh! don't be discourag'd at that, Madam, the quickness of your ladyship's parts will easily recover your loss of a little time.

Lady _Head._ O! You flatter me! But I'll endeavour by industry and application to make it up; such parts as I have shall not lie idle. My Lady _Arabella_ has been so good to offer me already her introduction, to those assemblies, where a woman may soonest learn to make herself valuable to every body.

Mrs. _Moth._ But her husband. [_Aside._] Her Ladyship, Madam, can indeed, better than any body, introduce you, where every thing that accomplishes a fine lady, is practised to the last perfection; Madam, she herself is at the very tip-top of it----'tis pity, poor lady, she shou'd meet with any discouragements.

Lady _Head._ Discouragements! from whence pray?

Mrs. _Moth._ From home sometimes----my Lord a--

Lady _Head._ What does he do?

Mrs. _Moth._ But one should not talk of people of qualities family-concerns.

Lady _Head._ O, no matter, Mrs. _Motherly_, as long as it goes no farther. My Lord, you were saying----

Mrs. _Moth._ Why, my Lord, Madam, is a little humoursome, they say.

Lady _Head._ Humoursome?

Mrs. _Moth._ Yes, they say he's humoursome.

Lady _Head._ As how, pray?

Mrs. _Moth._ Why, if my poor lady perhaps does but stay out at night, may be four or five hours after he's in bed, he'll be cross.

Lady _Head._ What, for such a thing as that?

Mrs. _Moth._ Yes, he'll be cross; and then if she happens, it may be, to be unfortunate at play, and lose a great deal of money, more than she has to pay, then Madam----he'll snub.

Lady _Head._ Out upon him! snub such a woman as she is? I can tell you, Mrs. _Motherly_, I that am but a country lady, should Sir _Francis_ take upon him to snub me, in _London_, he'd raise a spirit would make his hair stand on end.

Mrs. _Moth._ Really, Madam, that's the only way to deal with 'em.

_Enter Miss ~Betty~._

And here comes pretty Miss _Betty_, that I believe will never be made a fool of, when she's married.

Miss _Betty._ No by my troth won't I. What are you talking of my being married, mother?

Lady _Head._ No, Miss; Mrs. _Motherly_ was only saying what a good wife you wou'd make, when you were so.

Miss _Betty._ The sooner it is try'd, mother, the sooner it will be known. Lord, here's the colonel, Madam!

_Enter ~Colonel~._

Lady _Head._ Colonel, your servant.

Miss _Betty._ Your servant, colonel.

_Col._ Ladies, your most obedient----I hope, Madam, the town air agrees with you?

Lady _Head._ Mighty well, Sir.

Miss _Betty._ Oh prodigious well, Sir. We have bought a new coach and an ocean of new clothes, and we are to go to the play to-night, and to-morrow we go to the opera, and next night we go to the assembly, and then the next night after, we----

Lady _Head._ Softly, Miss----Do you go to the play to-night, colonel?

_Col._ I did not design it, Madam; but now I find there is to be such good company, I'll do myself the honour (if you'll give me leave, ladies) to come and lead you to your coach.

Lady _Head._ It's extremely obliging.

Miss _Betty_. It is indeed mighty well-bred. Lord! colonel, what a difference there is between your way and our country companions; one of them would have said, what, you are aw gooing to the playhouse then? Yes, says we, won't you come and lead us out? No, by good feggins, says he, ye ma' e'en ta' care o' yoursells, y'are awd enough; and so he'd ha' gone to get drunk at the tavern against we came home to supper.

Mrs. _Moth._ Ha, ha, ha! well, sure Madam, your Ladyship is the happiest mother in the world to have such a charming companion to your daughter.

_Col._ The prettiest creature upon earth!

Miss _Betty._ D'ye hear that, mother? Well, he's a fine gentleman really, and I think a man of admirable sense.

Lady _Head._ Softly, Miss, he'll hear you.

Miss _Betty._ If he does, Madam, he'll think I say true, and he'll like me never the worse for that, I hope. Where's your niece _Martilla_, Mrs. _Motherly_? Mama, won't you carry _Martilla_ to the play with us?

Lady _Head._ With all my heart, child.

_Col._ She's a very pretty civil sort of woman, Madam, and miss will be very happy in having such a companion in the house with her.

Miss _Betty._ So I shall indeed, Sir, and I love her dearly already, we are growing very great together.

Lady _Head._ But what's become of your brother, child? I han't seen him these two hours, where is he?

Miss _Betty._ Indeed, mother, I don't know where he is; I saw him asleep about half an hour ago by the kitchen fire.

_Col._ Must not he go to the play too?

Lady _Head_. Yes, I think he shou'd go, tho' he'll be weary on't, before it's half done.

Miss _Betty._ Weary? yes; and then he'll sit, and yawn, and stretch like a grayhound by the fire-side, 'till he does some nasty thing or other, that they'll turn him out of the house, so it's better to leave him at home.

Mrs. _Moth._ O, that were pity, Miss. Plays will enliven him----see, here he comes, and my niece with him.

_Enter Squire ~Humphry~ and ~Martilla~._

_Col._ Your servant, Sir; you come in good time, the ladies are all going to the play, and wanted you to help to gallant them.

Squire _Humph._ And so 'twill be nine o'clock, before one shall get any supper.

Miss _Betty._ Supper! why your dinner is not out of your mouth yet, at least 'tis all about the brims of it. See how greasy his chops is, mother.

Lady _Head._ Nay, if he han't a mind to go, he need not. You may stay here 'till your father comes home from the parliament-house, and then you may eat a broil'd bone together.

Miss _Betty._ Yes, and drink a tankard of strong beer together; and then he may tell you all he has been doing in the parliament-house, and you may tell him all you have been thinking of when you were asleep, in the kitchen: and then if you'll put it all down in writing, when we come from the play, I'll read it to the company.

Squire _Humph._ Sister, I don't like your joaking, and you are not a well-behav'd young woman; and altho' my mother encourages you, my thoughts are, you are not too big to be whipt.

Miss _Betty._ How, sirrah?

Squire _Humph._ There's a civil young gentlewoman stands there, is worth a hundred of you. And I believe she'll be married before you.

Miss _Betty._ Cots my life, I have a good mind to pull your eyes out.

Lady _Head._ Hold, Miss, hold, don't be in such a passion, neither.

Miss _Betty._ Mama, it is not that I am angry at any thing he says to commend _Martilla_, for I wish she were to be marry'd to-morrow, that I might have a dance at her wedding; but what need he abuse me for? I wish the lout had mettle enough to be in love with her, she'd make pure sport with him. [_Aside._] Does your Heaviness find any inclinations moving towards the lady you admire----Speak! are you in love with her?

Squire _Humph._ I am in love with nobody; and if any body be in love with me, mayhap they had as good be quiet.

Miss _Betty._ Hold your tongue, I'm quite sick of you. Come, _Martilla_, you are to go to the play with us.

_Mart._ Am I, Miss? I am ready to wait upon you.

Lady _Head._ I believe it's time we should be going; Colonel, is not it?

_Col._ Yes, Madam, I believe it is.

Lady _Head._ Come, then; who is there?

_Enter Servant._

Is the coach at the door?

_Serv._ It has been there this hafe haur, so please your Ladyship.

Miss _Betty._ And are all the people in the street gazing at it, _Tom_?

_Serv._ That are they, Madam; and _Roger_ has drank so much of his own beveridge, that he's even as it were gotten a little drunk.

Lady _Head._ Not so drunk, I hope, but that he can drive us?

_Serv._ Yes, yes, Madam, he drives best when he's a little upish. When _Roger_'s head turns, raund go the wheels, i'faith.

Miss _Betty._ Never fear, Mama, as long as it's to the playhouse, there's no danger.

Lady _Head._ Well, daughter, since you are so courageous, it shan't be said I make any difficulty; and if the Colonel is so gallant, to have a mind to share our danger, we have room for him, if he pleases.