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sorious and detracting a jade as a superannuated
Lord Plausible. She has a smart way of raillery, 'tis confessed.
Novel. And there for Mrs. Grideline
Lord Plausible. She, I'm sure, is
Olivia. One that never spoke ill of anybody, 'tis confessed. For she is as silent in conversation as a country lover, and no better company than a clock or a weather-glass; for if she sounds, 'tis but once an hour to put you in mind of the time of day, or to tell you 'twill be cold or hot, rain or snow.
Lord Plausible. Ah, poor creature! she's extremely good and modest.
Novel. And for Mrs. Bridlechin, she 's
Olivia. As proud as a churchman's wife.
Lord Plausible. She's a woman of great spirit and honour, and will not make herself cheap, 'tis
Novel. Then Mrs. Hoyden, that calls all people by their surnames, and is
Olivia. As familiar a duck
Novel. As an actress in the tiring-room. There I was once beforehand with you, madam.
Lord Plausible. Mrs. Hoyden! a poor, affable, goodnatured soul. But the divine Mrs. Trifle comes thither too. Sure her beauty, virtue, and conduct, you can say nothing to.
Novel. No!-Pray let me speak, madam.
Olivia. First, can any one be called beautiful that squints?
Lord Plausible. Her eyes languish a little, I own. Novel. Languish! ha! ha!
Olivia. Languish !-Then, for her conduct, she was seen at the 'Country Wife' after the first day. There's for you, my lord.
Or the four great Restoration playwrights, VANBRUGH had most of the trick of the stage. Like Wycherley, he has the rare and great merit that he wrote to be acted, not to be read. He is less cynical than Wycherley, more civilized and human in his satire, and far less gross. He lacks the wit and style of Congreve, but has greater natural flow and natural ease: the players are said to have found his pieces particularly easy to get by heart, and this would seem to be a proof that he spoke the language natural to his day. Vanbrugh goes further afield for his plots than his contemporaries, and brings more than mere fine ladies and gentlemen on to the stage. The acting quality of his plays is often admirable, and by no means lost even in the reading. He must be a dull reader, for instance, who does not see the good broad fun and the opportunity for telling by-play in the hands of a capable actress, in the scene where the fond and foolish mother of Dick Amlet interrupts his talk with interjections of her personal admiration for her scapegrace son- What a nose he has!'-'What a cherry cheek is there!'—'Now, the Lord love thee, for thou art a comfortable young man!' The part of Lord Foppington in The Relapse was as famous in its day as Lord Dundreary in ours. If there is a blemish in the character it is one that could ill be spared: it is that Lord Foppington is far too witty: in real life a man so capable of poignant, shrewd, and ready speech would not have laid his own folly and heartlessness so bare. Lord Foppington is not quite original; the foundations of the character were laid by Etheredge in his 'Sir Fopling Flutter,' though Sir Fopling is but a feeble fool and a monotonous one, in comparison with his lordship, a poor, thin curd of ass's milk': half the fun of him is in his name, and he is wholly incapable of that famous exordium which Lord Foppington makes when, having by the intrigue of the play got into a humiliating scrape, lost Miss Hoyden and her great fortune, and been baffled in all his self-seeking schemes, he preserves his imperturbability to the last, and winds up with that speech which is half impertinence, half philosophy, and wholly wit: 'Dear Tam, since things are thus fallen aut, prithee give me leave to wish thee jay de bon cœur, strike me dumb; you have married a woman beautiful in her person, charming in her airs, prudent in her conduct, constant in her inclinations, and of a nice marality, split my windpipe!'
A JOURNEY TO LONDON
LORD LOVERULE, whose tastes incline to home comforts and a quiet, domestic life, has been reproving his wife, Lady Arabella, for her love of fashionable society, late hours, and dissipation. She relates their dispute to Clarinda, her cousin, who describes the life she would herself choose to lead, with a moderate and judicious use of social pleasures.
A Room in Lord LOVERULE'S House.
Clarinda. Good morrow, madam; how do you do to-day? You seem to be in a little fluster.
Lady Arabella. My lord has been in one, and as I am the most complaisant poor creature in the world, I put myself into one too, purely to be suitable company to him.
Clarinda. You are prodigious good; but surely it must be mighty agreeable when a man and his wife can give themselves the same turn of conversation.
Lady Arabella. Oh, the prettiest thing in the world! Clarinda. But yet, though I believe there's no life