How can

Lady F. I am sure 'tis a delightful one. you dislike it, Sir George? You painted fashionable life in colours so disgusting, that I thought I hated it; but, on a nearer view, it seems charming. I have hitherto lived in obscurity; 'tis time that I should be a woman of the world. I long to begin;-my heart pants with expectation and delight!

Mrs. R. Come, then; let us begin directly. I am impatient to introduce you to that society, which you were born to ornament and charm.

Lady F. Adieu, my love!-We shall meet again at

dinner.

Sir G. Sure, I am in a dream-
Lady F. [Returning] Sir George?
Sir G. Will you go without me?

-Fanny!

[Going.

Mrs. R. Will you go without me!-Ha! ha! ha! what a pathetic address! Why, sure, you would not always be seen, side by side, like two beans upon a stalk. Are you afraid to trust Lady Frances with me, sir?

Sir G. Heaven and earth! with whom can a man trust his wife, in the present state of society? Formerly there were distinctions of character amongst ye: every class of females had its particular description; grandmothers were pious, aunts discreet, old maids censorious! but now, aunts, grandmothers, girls, and maiden gentlewomen, are all the same creature ;-a wrinkle more or less is the sole difference between ye.

Mrs. R. That maiden gentlewomen have lost their censoriousness, is surely not in your catalogue of grievances.

Sir G. Indeed it is-and ranked amongst the most serious grievances.-Things went well, madam, when the tongues of three or four old virgins kept all the wives and daughters of a parish in awe. They were the dragons, that guarded the Hesperian fruit; and I wonder they have not been obliged, by act of parlia ment, to resume their function.

Mrs. R. Ha! ha! ha! and pensioned, I suppose, for making strict inquiries into the lives and conversations of their neighbours.

Sir G. With all my heart, and empowered to oblige every woman to conform her conduct to her real situation. You, for instance, are a widow; your air should be sedate, your dress grave, your deportment matronly, and in all things an example to the young women growing up about you!-Instead of which, you are dressed for conquest, think of nothing but ensnaring hearts; are a coquette, a wit, and a fine lady.

Mrs. R. Bear witness to what he says! A coquette, a wit, and a fine lady! Who would have expected an eulogy from such an illnatured mortal!-Valour to a soldier, wisdom to a judge, or glory to a prince, is not more than such a character to a woman.

Miss O. Sir George, I see, languishes for the charming society of a century and a half ago; when a grave 'squire, and a still graver dame, surrounded by a sober family, formed a stiff group, in a mouldy old house, in the corner of a park.

Mrs. R. Delightful serenity! Undisturbed by any noise but the cawing of rooks, and the quarterly rumbling of an old family coach on a state visit; with the happy intervention of a friendly call from the parish apothecary, or the curate's wife.

Sir G. And what is the society of which you boast? -a mere chaos, in which all distinction of rank is lost in a ridiculous affectation of ease, and every different order of beings huddled together, as they were before the creation. In the same select party, you will often find the wife of a bishop and a sharper, of an earl and a fidler. In short, 'tis one universal masquerade, all disguised in the same habits and man

ners.

Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. Mr. Flutter.

[Exit SERVANT. Sir G. Here comes an illustration. Now, I defy you to tell, from his appearance, whether Flutter is a privy counsellor or a mercer, a lawyer or a grocer's 'prentice.

Enter FLUTTER.

Flut. Oh, just which you please, Sir George; so you don't make me a lord mayor. Ah, Mrs. Rackett! -Lady Frances, your most obedient; you looknow hang me, if that's not provoking!-had your gown been of another colour, I should have said the prettiest thing you ever heard in your life.

Miss O. Pray, give it us.

Flut. I was yesterday at Mrs. Bloomer's. She was dressed all in green; no other colour to be seen but that of her face and bosom. So, says I, My dear Mrs. Bloomer! you look like a carnation just bursting from its pod.

Sir G. Wasn't that pretty? And what said her husband?

Flut. Her husband! Why, her husband laughed, and said, a cucumber would have been a better simile.

Sir G. But there are husbands, sir, who would rather have corrected than amended your comparison; I, for instance, should consider a man's complimenting my wife as an impertinence.

Flut. Why, what harm can there be in compliments? Sure they are not infectious; and, if they were, you, Sir George, of all people breathing, have reason to be satisfied about your lady's attachment; every body talks of it: that little bird there, that she killed out of jealousy, the most extraordinary instance of affection thas ever was given.

Lady F. I kill a bird through jealousy! Heavens!

Mr. Flutter, how can you impute such a cruelty to

me?

Sir G. I could have forgiven you, if you

had.

Flut. Oh, what a blundering fool!-No, no-now I remember-'twas your bird, Lady Frances-that's it, your bullfinch, which Sir George, in one of the refinements of his passion, sent into the wide world to seek its fortune.-He took it for a knight in disguise.

Lady F. Is it possible! Oh, Sir George, could I have imagined it was you, who deprived me of a creature I was so fond of?

Sir G. Mr. Flutter, you are one of those busy, idle, meddling people, who, from mere vacuity of mind, are the most dangerous inmates in a family. You have neither feelings nor opinions of your own; but, like a glass in a tavern, bear about those of every blockhead who gives you his;-and, because you mean no harm, think yourselves excused, though broken friendships, discords, and murders, are the consequences of your indiscretions.

Flut. [Taking out his Tablets.] Vacuity of mind!What was next? I'll write down this sermon; 'tis the first I have heard since my grandmother's funeral.

Miss O. Come, Lady Frances, you see what a cruel creature your loving husband can be; so let us leave him.

Sir G. Madam, Lady Frances shall not go. Lady F. Shall not, Sir George!-This is the first time such an expression[Weeping.

Sir G. My love! my life!

Lady F. Don't imagine I'll be treated like a child! denied what I wish, and then pacified with sweet words.

Miss O. [Apart.] The bullfinch! that's an excellent subject; never let it down.

Lady F. I see plainly you would deprive me of

every pleasure, as well as of my sweet bird-out of pure love!--Barbarous man!

Sir G. 'Tis well, madam ;—your resentment of that circumstance proves to me, what I did not before suspect, that you are deficient both in tenderness and understanding-Tremble to think the hour approaches, in which you would give worlds for such a proof of my love. Go, madam, give yourself to the public; abandon your heart to dissipation, and see if, in the scenes of gaiety and folly that await you, you can find a recompense for the lost affection of a doting husband. [Exit SIR GEORGE.

Flut. Lord, what a fine thing it is to have the gift of speech! I suppose, Sir George practises at Coachmakers' Hall, or the Black Horse in Bond Street.

Lady F. He is really angry; I cannot go.

Mrs. R. Not go! Foolish creature! you are arrived at the moment which, some time or other, was sure to happen, and every thing depends on the use you make of it.

Miss O. Come, Lady Frances, don't hesitate ;the minutes are precious.

Lady F. I could find in my heart!—and yet won't give up neither.-If I should in this instance, he'll expect it for ever.

[Exeunt LADY FRANCES and MRS. RACKETT. Miss O. Now you act like a woman of spirit.

[Exit. Flut. A fair tug, by Jupiter-between duty and pleasure! Pleasure beats, and off we go, Iö triumphe!

[Exit.