Lady T. Oh, yes: I have fores worn it. Lady G. Eady T. is constantly Lady T. Solemnly, a thousand times; but then one foresworn. 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 confine 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. Lady G. And won't you live in town? 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. tent us. A scheme that I think might very well con Lady T. Oh, of all things, let's hear it. Lady G. Why, in summer I could 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 at 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 possibiy, by these means, I might induce my husband to be as sober as myself. Lady T. Well, my dear, thou art an astoaishing crea Fr ture! For sure such primitive antediluvian notions of life have not been in any head these thousand years.' Under a great tree! ha! ha! ha!- -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 I must bear it. vapors, Lady G. Why, then, for fear of your feinting, 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 dutshess; though there is one extravagance I would venture to come up to. Lady P. Lady G. Lady T. made one what purpose. Ay, now for it I would every day be as clean as a bride. Lady G. 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; a«d because 'tis the fashion, now and then go to 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 compa ny, I might be drawn in once to a masquerade ;—and this, 1 think, ia as tar as any woman can go—soberly. Lady T. Well, if it had not been for that last piece of sobriety, I was just a going to call for some surfeit water. Lady G. 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 T. Tolerable? Deplorable!Why, child, all you propose is but to endure life; now, 1 want \o enjoy it. III.-Priuli and Jaffier.—Venice Preserves. Pri. NO more! I'll hear no more! Begone, and leave me. Jaff. Not bear me? By my sufferings, but you shall ! My lord, my lord! I'm not that abject wretch You think me. Patience! Where's the distance throws In right, though proud oppression will not hear me? Pri. Jaff. Could my nature e'er Have brook'd injustice, or the doing wrong, Wrong'd you? Pri. Yes, wrong'd me. In the nicest point, Childless you had been else, and in the grave' Was by a wave wash'd off into the deep; Pri. You stole her from me; like a thief, you stole he* May all your joys in her prove false as mine; Attend you both; continual discord make 1 your portion. Jaff. Half of your curse you have bestow'd in vain With a young boy, sweet as his mother's beauty. Pri. No more. Jaff. Yes, all; and then-adieu forever. There's not a wretch that lives on common charity But's happier than I; for I have known The luscoius sweets of plenty; every night Reduce the glittering trappings of thy wife Drudge to feed loathsome life; get brats and starve. Jaff. Yes, if my heart would let me— This proud, this swelling heart, home would I go, Fill'd and damm'd up with gaping creditors. I've now not fifty ducats in the world; And we will bear our wayward fate together— [Exit. IV.—Boniface and Aimwell.—Beaux Stratagem. Bon. THIS way, this way, Sir. Aim. You're my landlord, I suppose. Bon.. Yes, Sir, I'm old Will Boniface; pretty well known upon this road, as the saying is. Aim. O, Mr. Boniface, your servant. Bon. O, Sir-What will your honor please to drink, as the saying is? Aim. I have heard your town of Litchfield much famed for ale; I think I'll taste that! Bon. Sir, I have now in my cellar ten tun of the best ale in Staffordshire; 'tis smooth as oil, sweet as milk, clear as amber, and strong as brandy; and will be just fourteen years old the fifth day of next March old style. Aim. You're very exact, I find, in the age of your ale. Bon. As punctual, Sir, as I am in the age of my children -I'll show yau such ale-Here, tapster, broach number 1706, as the saying is.—Sir, you shall taste my anno domini.—I have lived in Litchfield, man and boy, above eight and fifty years, and 1 believe, have not consumed eight and fifty ounces of meat. Aim. At a meal, you mean, if one may guess by your bulk. Bon. Not in my life, Sir: I have fed purely upon ale: I have ate my ale, drank my ale, and I always sleep upon ale. [Enter tapster with a tankard. Now, Sir, you shall see Your worship's health: [drink»•\—Ha! Delicious, delicious! Fancy it Burgun dy, only fancy it--and 'tis worth ten shillings a quart. |