VIII.-SIR PETER AND LADY TEAZLE.

(SHERIDAN.)

Sir Peter. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I won't bear it. Lady Teazle. Very well, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, just as you please; but I know I ought to have my own way in everything; and, what's more, I will.

Sir Pet. What, madam! is there no respect due to the authority of a husband?

L. Teaz. Why, don't I know that no woman of fashion does as she's bid after her marriage? Though I was bred in the country, I'm no stranger to that. be obedient, you should have adopted me, and not married me-I'm sure you were old enough.

If you wanted me to

Sir Pet. Ay, there it is-madam, what right have you to run into all this extravagance?

L. Teaz. I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of quality ought to be.

Sir Pet. Madam, I'll have no more sums squandered away upon such unmeaning luxuries; you have as many flowers in your dressing-rooms as would turn the Pantheon into a green-house.

L. Teaz. La, Sir Peter, am I to blame that flowers don't blow in cold weather? You must blame the climate, and not me. I'm sure, for my part, I wish it were spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet.

Sir Pet. Madam, I should not wonder at your extravagance if you had been bred to it. Had you any of these things before you married me?

L. Teaz. Dear Sir Peter, how can you be angry at those little elegant expenses?

Sir Pet. Had you any of those little elegant expenses when you married me?

L. Teaz. Very true, indeed; and after having married you, I should never pretend to taste again.

Sir Pet. Very well, very well, madam; you have entirely forgot what your situation was when I first saw you.

L. Teaz. No, no, I have not; a very disagreeable situa tion it was, or I'm sure I never would have married you.

Sir Pet. You forget the humble state I took you from— the daughter of a poor country 'squire. When I came to your father's, I found you sitting at your tambour, in a linen gown, a bunch of keys at your side, and your hair combed smoothly over a roll.

L. Teaz. Yes, I remember very well: my daily occupations were, to overlook the dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap-dog.

Sir Pet. Oh, I am glad to find you have so good a recollection.

L. Teaz. My evening's employments were, to draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up; play at Pope Joan with the curate; read a sermon to my aunt Deborah; or perhaps be stuck up at an old spinnet, to thrum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.

Sir Pet. Then you were glad to take a ride out behind the butler, upon the old docked coach-horse.

L. Teaz. No, no; I deny the butler and the coach-horse. Sir Pet. I say you did. This was your situation. Now, madam, you must have your coach, vis-à-vis, and three powdered footmen to walk before your chair; and in summer two white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens; and, instead of your living in that hole in the country, I have brought you home here, made a woman of fortune of you, a woman of quality-in short, I have made you my wife.

L. Teaz. Well, and there is but one thing more you can now add to the obligation, and that is—

Sir Pet. To make you my widow, I suppose.

L. Teaz. Hem !

Sir Pet. Very well, madam, very well; I am much obliged to you for the hint.

L. Teaz. Why, then, will you force me to say shocking things to you? But now we have finished our morning conversation, I presume I may go to my engagements at Lady Sneerwell's.

Sur Pet. Lady Sneerwell- a precious acquaintance you

have made of her too, and the set that frequent her house. Such a set! Many a wretch who has been drawn upon a hurdle, has done less mischief than those barterers of forged lies, coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation.

L. Teaz. How can you be so severe? I am sure they are all people of fashion, and very tenacious of reputation.

Sir Pet. Yes, so tenacious of it, they'll not allow it to any but themselves.

L. Teaz. I vow, Sir Peter, when I say an ill-natured thing, I mean no harm by it, for I take it for granted they'd do the same by me.

Sir Pet. They've made you as bad as any of them.

L. Teaz. Yes, I think I bear my part with a tolerable grace.

Sir Pet. Grace, indeed!

L. Teaz. Well but, Sir Peter, you know you promised to

come.

Sir Pet. Well, I shall just call in to look after my own character.

L. Teaz. Then, upon my word, you must make haste after me, or you'll be too late. [Exit Lady Teazle.

Sir Pet. I have got much by my intended expostulation. What a charming air she has! and how pleasantly she shows her contempt of my authority! Well, though I can't make her love me, 'tis some pleasure to tease her a little; and 1 think she never appears to such advantage, as when she is doing everything to vex and plague me.

"Know when to speak, for of the times it bring Dongen, to give the best advice to Kingst

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friends thou hast and their adoption grapple them to thy couemix hoops of ettel!

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