Best Companion" entombed in the dust it aims to sweep away, and a satirical spider has drawn his web over the Complete Housewife." But here she comes; you shall see for yourself.

Mrs. Templeton. [Without.] Pray don't tease me now; tell them all to be sure and come to-morrow. [Enters.] My dear Mr. Templeton, you will be delighted with the guest your son Vincent has introduced. Such commanding talents, such superior taste. He has found fault with everything he has seen, and has pronounced the house and grounds so detestable, that I can't endure the sight of them.

Tem. I ought to be much obliged to hiin.

Mrs. T We've laid such delightful plans. The house is to come down, the farm to be parked. and the meadows to be put under water. Now, my love, you'll have no trouble, but

Tem. The trouble of paying for it.

Mrs. T.__ O, but he says people of fashion never think of that. So I shall give orders to begin.

Tem. When, my dear? Mrs. T. O, to morrow. But who is that old man? Tem. My late partner. And I am happy to afford you the gratification of making welcome my friend Damper. Mrs. T I have never seen his name on our list; but my tall man is shockingly inaccurate. Do you know. last winter, sir, he told me I was quite intimate with Lady Paramount; but on making her a visit, the old Goth denied ever having heard of me. But I must away. I've a thousand

things to arrange for to-morrow. I hope I may look forward, sir. to a long visit. [Exit.]

Damp. Rid your house of the new-comer immediately. Here is another instance of the blessed effects of modern education, which has armed every witling with the weapons of personal satire. For now, cities are visited. tours are made. not to paint the world's beauties, but to caricature its pitiable deformities; not to cull the sweets of nature, but to collect the poison of defamation; not to bestow instruction, but to purvey the insatiable appetite of slander, and teach the rising generation to prey on garbage. [Exeunt.]

XXIV.--FROM THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL-Sheridan.

SIR PETER TEAZLE-LADY TEAZLE.

Sir Peter Teazle. When an old bachelor marries a young wife, what is he to expect? 'Tis not above six months since my Lady Teazle made me the happiest of men, and I have been the most miserable dog ever since. We tifted a little going to church, and fairly quarreled before the bells were. done ringing. In less than a month, I was nearly choked with gall, and had lost every satisfaction in life before my friends had done wishing me joy. I am laughed at by her, and made the jest of all my acquaintance. And yet, the worst of it is, I am afraid I love her, or I should never bear all this; but I am determined never to be weak enough to let her know it. But here she comes apparently in mighty good humor; I wish I could tease her into loving me a little

[Enter Lady Teazle.]

Lady Teazle. What's the matter, Sir Peter? You seem to be out of humor.

Sir P. Ah! Lady Teazle, it is in your power to put me in good humor at any time.

L. Teaz. Is it? I'm glad of it, for I want you to be in a monstrous good humor now. Come, do be good humored and let me have a hundred pounds.

Sir P. What the plague! Can't I be in good humor without paying for it? But look always thus, and you shall have two hundred pounds. Be satisfied with that sum now, and you shall not much longer have it in your power to reproach me for not making you a proper settlement. I intend shortly to surprise you.

L. Teaz. Do you? You can't think. Sir Peter, how good humor becomes you. Now you look just as you did before I married you.

Sir P. Do I, indeed?

L. Teaz. Don't you remember when you used to walk with me under the elms and tell me stories of what a gallant you were in your youth, and asked me if I could like an old fellow who could deny me nothing?

Sir P. Ay, and you were so attentive and obliging to me then.

L. Teaz. To be sure I was, and used to take your part

against all my acquaintance; and when my cousin Mary used to laugh at me for thinking of marrying a man old enough to be my father, and call you an ugly, stiff, formal old bachelor, I contradicted her, and said I did not think you so ugly by any means and that I dared say you would make a good sort of a husband.

Well and you were

Sir P. That was very kind of you. not mistaken; you have found it so, have not you? But shall we always live thus happy?

L. Teaz. With all my heart. I don't care how soon we leave off quarreling, provided you will own you are tired first.

Sir P. With all my heart.

L. Teaz.

Then we shall be as happy as the day is long, and never, never, never quarrel more.

Sir P. Never, never, never: and let our future contest be, who shall be most obliging.

L. Teaz. Ay!

Sir P.

you know,

But, my dear Lady Teazle, my love, indeed you must keep a strict watch over your temper, for my dear, that in all our disputes and quarrels, you always begin first.

L. Teaz. No, no, my dear Sir Peter, 'tis always you that begin.

Sir P. No, no, no such thing.

L. Teaz.

Have a care; this is not the way to live happy,

if you fly out thus.

Sir P. No, no, 'tis you.

L. Teaz.
Sir P.

L. Teaz.

No, 'tis you.

Madam, I say 'tis you.

Law! I never saw such a man in my life; just what my cousin Mary told me.

Sir P. Your cousin Mary is a forward, saucy, imperti

nent minx.

L. Teaz.

tions.

You are a very great bear to abuse my rela

Sir P. But I am well enough served for marrying you, a pert, forward, rural coquette, who had refused half the honest squires in the country.

L. Teaz. I am sure I was a great fool for marrying you, a stiff old bachelor, who was unmarried at fifty, because nobody would have you.

Sir P. You were very glad to have me; you never had such an offer before.

L. Teas. yes I had; there was Sir Tivey Terrier, whose estate was full as good as yours and he has broken his neck since we were married.

Sir P. Very well. very well. madam, you're an ungrateful woman and may plagues light on me if I ever try to be friends with you again; you shall have a separate main

tenance.

L. Teaz. By all means a separate maintenance.

Sir P. Very well, madam; oh, very well. Ah, madam, you shall rue this-I'll have a divorce.

L. Teaz. A divorce!

Sir P. Ay, madam; I'll make an example of myself for the benefit of all old bachelors.

L. Teaz. Well well, Sir Peter; be it so. I see you are going to be in a passion, so I'll leave you; and when you come properly to your temper. we shall be the happiest couple in the world, and never, never, never quarrel more.

[Exeunt.]

XXV.-Cibber and Vanburg.

LADY GRACE-LADY TOWNLY.

Lady Townly. Oh, 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 T. Why yes-and therefore I wanted your relief; for he has been in such a fluster here

Lady G. Bless me! for what?

Lady T. Only our usual breakfast; we have each of us had our dish of matrimonial comfort this morning-we have been charming company.

Lady G. I am mighty glad of it: sure it must be a vast happiness when man and wife can give themselves the same turn of conversation!

Lady T. Oh the prettiest thing in the world!

Lady G. 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 T. Oh, my dear you are the most mistaken in

the world! Married people have things to talk of, child, that never entered 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 if it was the first hour it entertained us.

Lady G. Certainly that must be vastly pretty.

Lady T. Oh, there's no life like it! Why, t'other day for example, when you dined abroad, my lord and I, after a pretty cheerful téte à téte meal, sat us down by the fireside, in an easy, indolent, pick-tooth kind of way, for about a quarter of an hour, as if we had not thought of any others 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 turned 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 amazed, says I, at a thing that happens so often? Upon which we entered into a conversation and though this is a point that has entertained us above fifty times already, we always find so many pretty new things to say upon it, that I believe it will last as long as we live.

Lady G. But pray, in such sort of family dialogues, (though extremely well for passing the time,) doesn't there now and then enter some little witty sort of bitterness?

Lady T. Oh, 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 a sentimental old prude would be able to bear it.

Lady G. Well, certainly you have the most elegant

faste

Lady T Though, to tell you the truth, my dear. I rather 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 again talked something oddly of―― turning me out of doors.

Lady G. Oh have a care of that.

Lady T

father for it

Nay, if he should, I may thank my own wise