Part I
'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round--and that Roses grew under one's Feet!
SIR PETER. Oons! Madam--if you had been born to those Fopperies I shouldn't wonder at your talking thus;--but you forget what your situation was when I married you--
LADY TEAZLE. No, no, I don't--'twas a very disagreeable one or I should never nave married you.
SIR PETER. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler Style--the daughter of a plain country Squire. Recollect Lady Teazle when I saw you first--sitting at your tambour in a pretty figured linen gown--with a Bunch of Keys at your side, and your apartment hung round with Fruits in worsted, of your own working--
LADY TEAZLE. O horrible!--horrible!--don't put me in mind of it!
SIR PETER. Yes, yes Madam and your daily occupation to inspect the Dairy, superintend the Poultry, make extracts from the Family Receipt-book, and comb your aunt Deborah's Lap Dog.
LADY TEAZLE. Abominable!
SIR PETER. Yes Madam--and what were your evening amusements? to draw Patterns for Ruffles, which you hadn't the materials to make--play Pope Joan with the Curate--to read a sermon to your Aunt--or be stuck down to an old Spinet to strum your father to sleep after a Fox Chase.
LADY TEAZLE. Scandalous--Sir Peter not a word of it true--
SIR PETER. Yes, Madam--These were the recreations I took you from--and now--no one more extravagantly in the Fashion--Every Fopery adopted--a head-dress to o'er top Lady Pagoda with feathers pendant horizontal and perpendicular--you forget[,] Lady Teazle--when a little wired gauze with a few Beads made you a fly Cap not much bigger than a blew-bottle, and your Hair was comb'd smooth over a Roll--
LADY TEAZLE. Shocking! horrible Roll!!
SIR PETER. But now--you must have your coach--Vis-a-vis, and three powder'd Footmen before your Chair--and in the summer a pair of white cobs to draw you to Kensington Gardens--no recollection when y ou were content to ride double, behind the Butler, on a docked Coach-Horse?
LADY TEAZLE. Horrid!--I swear I never did.
SIR PETER. This, madam, was your situation--and what have I not done for you? I have made you woman of Fashion of Fortune of Rank--in short I have made you my wife.
LADY TEAZLE. Well then and there is but one thing more you can make me to add to the obligation.
SIR PETER. What's that pray?
LADY TEAZLE. Your widow.--
SIR PETER. Thank you Madam--but don't flatter yourself for though your ill-conduct may disturb my Peace it shall never break my Heart I promise you--however I am equally obliged to you for the Hint.
LADY TEAZLE. Then why will you endeavour to make yourself so disagreeable to me--and thwart me in every little elegant expense.
SIR PETER. 'Slife--Madam I pray, had you any of these elegant expenses when you married me?
LADY TEAZLE. Lud Sir Peter would you have me be out of the Fashion?
SIR PETER. The Fashion indeed!--what had you to do with the Fashion before you married me?
LADY TEAZLE. For my Part--I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of Taste--
SIR PETER. Aye there again--Taste! Zounds Madam you had no Taste when you married me--
LADY TEAZLE. That's very true indeed Sir Peter! after having married you I should never pretend to Taste again I allow.
SIR PETER. So--so then--Madam--if these are your Sentiments pray how came I to be honour'd with your Hand?
LADY TEAZLE. Shall I tell you the Truth?
SIR PETER. If it's not too great a Favour.
LADY TEAZLE. Why the Fact is I was tired of all those agreeable Recreations which you have so good naturally [naturedly] Described--and having a Spirit to spend and enjoy a Fortune--I determined to marry the first rich man that would have me.
SIR PETER. A very honest confession--truly--but pray madam was there no one else you might have tried to ensnare but me.
LADY TEAZLE. O lud--I drew my net at several but you were the only one I could catch.
SIR PETER. This is plain dealing indeed--
LADY TEAZLE. But now Sir Peter if we have finish'd our daily Jangle I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's?
SIR PETER. Aye--there's another Precious circumstance--a charming set of acquaintance--you have made there!
LADY TEAZLE. Nay Sir Peter they are People of Rank and Fortune--and remarkably tenacious of reputation.
SIR PETER. Yes egad they are tenacious of Reputation with a vengeance, for they don't chuse anybody should have a Character but themselves! Such a crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on hurdles who has done less mischief than these utterers of forged Tales, coiners of Scandal, and clippers of Reputation.
LADY TEAZLE. What would you restrain the freedom of speech?
SIR PETER. Aye they have made you just as bad [as] any one of the Society.
LADY TEAZLE. Why--I believe I do bear a Part with a tolerable Grace--But I vow I bear no malice against the People I abuse, when I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure Good Humour--and I take it for granted they deal exactly in the same manner with me, but Sir Peter you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too.
SIR PETER. Well well I'll call in, just to look after my own character.
LADY TEAZLE. Then, indeed, you must make Haste after me, or you'll be too late--so good bye to ye.
SIR PETER. So--I have gain'd much by my intended expostulation--yet with what a charming air she contradicts every thing I say--and how pleasingly she shows her contempt of my authority--Well tho' I can't make her love me, there is certainly a great satisfaction in quarrelling with her; and I think she never appears to such advantage as when she is doing everything in her Power to plague me.
[Exit.]
## SCENE II.--At LADY SNEERWELL'S
LADY SNEERWELL, MRS. CANDOUR, CRABTREE, SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE, and SURFACE
LADY SNEERWELL. Nay, positively, we will hear it.
SURFACE. Yes--yes the Epigram by all means.
SiR BENJAMIN. O plague on't unkle--'tis mere nonsense--
CRABTREE. No no; 'fore gad very clever for an extempore!
SIR BENJAMIN. But ladies you should be acquainted with the circumstances. You must know that one day last week as Lady Betty Curricle was taking the Dust in High Park, in a sort of duodecimo Phaeton--she desired me to write some verses on her Ponies--upon which I took out my Pocket-Book--and in one moment produced--the following:--
'Sure never were seen two such beautiful Ponies; Other Horses are Clowns--and these macaronies, Nay to give 'em this Title, I'm sure isn't wrong, Their Legs are so slim--and their Tails are so long.
CRABTREE. There Ladies--done in the smack of a whip and on Horseback too.
SURFACE. A very Phoebus, mounted--indeed Sir Benjamin.
SIR BENJAMIN. Oh dear Sir--Trifles--Trifles.
Enter LADY TEAZLE and MARIA
MRS. CANDOUR. I must have a Copy--
LADY SNEERWELL. Lady Teazle--I hope we shall see Sir Peter?
LADY TEAZLE. I believe He'll wait on your Ladyship presently.
LADY SNEERWELL. Maria my love you look grave. Come, you sit down to Piquet with Mr. Surface.
MARIA. I take very little Pleasure in cards--however, I'll do as you Please.
LADY TEAZLE. I am surprised Mr. Surface should sit down her--I thought He would have embraced this opportunity of speaking to me before Sir Peter came--[Aside.]
MRS. CANDOUR. Now, I'll die but you are so scandalous I'll forswear your society.
LADY TEAZLE. What's the matter, Mrs. Candour?
MRS. CANDOUR. They'll not allow our friend Miss Vermillion to be handsome.
LADY SNEERWELL. Oh, surely she is a pretty woman. . . .
[CRABTREE.] I am very glad you think so ma'am.
MRS. CANDOUR. She has a charming fresh Colour.
CRABTREE. Yes when it is fresh put on--
LADY TEAZLE. O fie! I'll swear her colour is natural--I have seen it come and go--
CRABTREE. I dare swear you have, ma'am: it goes of a Night, and comes again in the morning.
SIR BENJAMIN. True, uncle, it not only comes and goes but what's more egad her maid can fetch and carry it--
MRS. CANDOUR. Ha! ha! ha! how I hate to hear you talk so! But surely, now, her Sister, is or was very handsome.
CRABTREE. Who? Mrs. Stucco? O lud! she's six-and-fifty if she's an hour!
MRS. CANDOUR. Now positively you wrong her[;] fifty-two, or fifty-three is the utmost--and I don't think she looks more.
SIR BENJAMIN. Ah! there's no judging by her looks, unless one was to see her Face.
LADY SNEERWELL. Well--well--if she does take some pains to repair the ravages of Time--you must allow she effects it with great ingenuity--and surely that's better than the careless manner in which the widow Ocre chaulks her wrinkles.
SIR BENJAMIN. Nay now--you are severe upon the widow--come--come, it isn't that she paints so ill--but when she has finished her Face she joins it on so badly to her Neck, that she looks like a mended Statue, in which the Connoisseur sees at once that the Head's modern tho' the Trunk's antique----
CRABTREE. Ha! ha! ha! well said, Nephew!
MRS. CANDOUR. Ha! ha! ha! Well, you make me laugh but I vow I hate you for it--what do you think of Miss Simper?
SIR BENJAMIN. Why, she has very pretty Teeth.
LADY TEAZLE. Yes and on that account, when she is neither speaking nor laughing (which very seldom happens)--she never absolutely shuts her mouth, but leaves it always on a-Jar, as it were----
MRS. CANDOUR. How can you be so ill-natured!
LADY TEAZLE. Nay, I allow even that's better than the Pains Mrs. Prim takes to conceal her losses in Front--she draws her mouth till it resembles the aperture of a Poor's-Box, and all her words appear to slide out edgewise.
LADY SNEERWELL. Very well Lady Teazle I see you can be a little severe.
LADY TEAZLE. In defence of a Friend it is but justice, but here comes Sir Peter to spoil our Pleasantry.
Enter SIR PETER
SIR PETER. Ladies, your obedient--Mercy on me--here is the whole set! a character's dead at every word, I suppose.
MRS. CANDOUR. I am rejoiced you are come, Sir Peter--they have been so censorious and Lady Teazle as bad as any one.
SIR PETER. That must be very distressing to you, Mrs. Candour I dare swear.
MRS. CANDOUR. O they will allow good Qualities to nobody--not even good nature to our Friend Mrs. Pursy.
LADY TEAZLE. What, the fat dowager who was at Mrs. Codrille's [Quadrille's] last Night?
LADY SNEERWELL. Nay--her bulk is her misfortune and when she takes such Pains to get rid of it you ought not to reflect on her.
MRS. CANDOUR. 'Tis very true, indeed.
LADY TEAZLE. Yes, I know she almost lives on acids and small whey--laces herself by pulleys and often in the hottest noon of summer you may see her on a little squat Pony, with her hair plaited up behind like a Drummer's and puffing round the Ring on a full trot.
MRS. CANDOUR. I thank you Lady Teazle for defending her.
SIR PETER. Yes, a good Defence, truly!
MRS. CANDOUR. But for Sir Benjamin, He is as censorious as Miss Sallow.
CRABTREE. Yes and she is a curious Being to pretend to be censorious--an awkward Gawky, without any one good Point under Heaven!
LADY SNEERWELL. Positively you shall not be so very severe. Miss Sallow is a Relation of mine by marriage, and, as for her Person great allowance is to be made--for, let me tell you a woman labours under many disadvantages who tries to pass for a girl at six-and-thirty.
MRS. CANDOUR. Tho', surely she is handsome still--and for the weakness in her eyes considering how much she reads by candle-light it is not to be wonder'd at.
LADY SNEERWELL. True and then as to her manner--upon my word I think it is particularly graceful considering she never had the least Education[:] for you know her Mother was a Welch milliner, and her Father a sugar-Baker at Bristow.--
SIR BENJAMIN. Ah! you are both of you too good-natured!
SIR PETER. Yes, damned good-natured! Her own relation! mercy on me! [Aside.]
MRS. CANDOUR. For my