-What! cries the lady Dowager Dundizzy (who you know is as deaf as a post), has Miss Piper had twins? This mistake, as you may imagine, threw the whole company into a fit of laughter. However, 'twas the next morning everywhere reported, and in a few days believed by the whole town, that Miss Letitia Piper had actually been brought to bed of a fine boy and a girl: and in less than a week there were some people who could name the father and the farm-house where the babies were put to

Sir Ben. To be sure he may for my part, I never believed him to be so utterly void of principle as people say; and though he has lost all his friends, I am told nobody is better spoken of by the Jews.

Crab. That's true, egad, nephew. If the Old Jewry was a ward, I believe Charles would be an alderman: no man more popular there, 'fore Gad! I hear he pays as many annuities as the Irish tontine; and that whenever he is sick, they have prayers for the recovery of his health in all the synagogues.

Sir Ben. Yet no man lives in greater splendour. They tell me, when he entertains his friends he will sit down to dinner with a dozen of his own securities; have a score of tradesmen waiting in the antechamber, and an officer behind every guest's chair.

Jos. Surf. This may be entertainment to you, gentlemen, but you pay very little regard to the feelings of a brother.

Mar. [Aside.] Their malice is intolerable !— [Aloud.] Lady Sneerwell, I must wish you a good morning: I'm not very well. [Exit.

Mrs. Can. O dear! she changes colour very much.

Lady Sneer. Do, Mrs. Candour, follow her: she may want assistance.

Mrs. Can. That I will, with all my soul, ma'am. Poor dear girl, who knows what her situation may be!

[Exit.

Lady Sneer. 'Twas nothing but that she could not bear to hear Charles reflected on, notwithstanding their difference.

Sir Ben. The young lady's penchant is obvious. Crab. But, Benjamin, you must not give up the pursuit for that: follow her, and put her into good humour. Repeat her some of your own verses. Come, I'll assist you.

Sir Ben. Mr. Surface, I did not mean to hurt you; but depend on't your brother is utterly undone.

Crab. O Lud, ay! undone as ever man was.Can't raise a guinea!

Sir Ben. And everything sold, I'm told, that was moveable.

Crab. I have seen one that was at his house.

Not a thing left but some empty bottles that were overlooked, and the family pictures, which I believe are framed in the wainscots.

Sir Ben. And I'm very sorry, also, to hear some bad stories against him. [Going. Crab. Oh! he has done many mean things, that's certain.

Sir Ben. But, however, as he's your brother[Going.

Crab. We'll tell you all another opportunity. [Exeunt CRABTREE and Sir BENJAMIN, Lady Sneer. Ha! ha! 'tis very hard for them to leave a subject they have not quite run down. Jos. Surf. And I believe the abuse was no more acceptable to your ladyship than Maria.

Lady Sneer. I doubt her affections are farther engaged than we imagine. But the family are to be here this evening, so you may as well dine where you are, and we shall have an opportunity of observing farther; in the mean time, I'll go and plot mischief, and you shall study sentiment.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II-A Room in Sir PETER TEAZLE'S House.

Enter Sir PETER TEAZLE.

Sir Pet. When an old bachelor marries a young wife, what is he to expect? "Tis now six months since lady Teazle made me the happiest of menand I have been the most miserable dog ever since! We tifted a little going to church, and fairly quarrelled before the bells had done ringing. I was more than once nearly choked with gall during the honeymoon, and had lost all comfort in life before my friends had done wishing me joy. Yet I chose with caution-a girl bred wholly in the country, who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown, nor dissipation above the annual gala of a race ball. Yet now she plays her part in all the extravagant fopperies of the fashion and the town, with as ready a grace as if she had never seen a bush or a grass-plot out of Grosvenor-square! I am sneered at by all my acquaintance, and paragraphed in the newspapers. She dissipates my fortune, and contradicts all my humours; yet the worst of it is, I doubt I love her, or I should never bear all this. However, I'll never be weak enough to own it.

Enter RowLEY.

Row. Oh! sir Peter, your servant: how is it with you, sir?

Sir Pet. Very bad, master Rowley, very bad. I meet with nothing but crosses and vexations. Row. What can have happened to trouble you since yesterday?

Sir Pet. A good question to a married man! Row. Nay, I'm sure your lady, sir Peter, can't be the cause of your uneasiness.

Sir Pet. Why, has anybody told you she was dead?

Row. Come, come, sir Peter, you love her, notwithstanding your tempers don't exactly agree.

Sir Pet. But the fault is entirely hers, master Rowley. I am, myself, the sweetest tempered man alive, and hate a teasing temper; and so I tell her a hundred times a day.

Row. Indeed!

Sir Pet. Ay; and what is very extraordinary,

in all our disputes she is always in the wrong! But lady Sneerwell, and the set she meets at her house, encourage the perverseness of her disposition. Then, to complete my vexation, Maria, my ward, whom I ought to have the power over, is determined to turn rebel too, and absolutely refuses the man whom I have long resolved on for her husband; meaning, I suppose, to bestow herself on his profligate brother.

Row. You know, sir Peter, I have always taken the liberty to differ with you on the subject of these two young gentlemen. I only wish you may not be deceived in your opinion of the elder. For Charles, my life on't! he will retrieve his errors yet. Their worthy father, once my honoured master, was, at his years, nearly as wild a spark; yet, when he died, he did not leave a more benevolent heart to lament his loss.

of

Sir Pet. You are wrong, master Rowley. On their father's death, you know, I acted as a kind of guardian to them both, till their uncle sir Oliver's liberality gave them an early independence course, no person could have more opportunities of judging of their hearts, and I was never mistaken in my life. Joseph is indeed a model for the young men of the age. He is a man of sentiment, and acts up to the sentiments he professes; but for the other, take my word for't, if he had any grain of virtue by descent, he has dissipated it with the rest of his inheritance. Ah! my old friend, sir Oliver, will be deeply mortified when he finds how part of his bounty has been misapplied.

Row. I am sorry to find you so violent against the young man, because this may be the most critical period of his fortune. I came hither with news that will surprise you.

Sir Pet. What! let me hear. Row. Sir Oliver is arrived, and at this moment in town.

Sir Pet. How! you astonish me! I thought you did not expect him this month.

Row. I did not but his passage has been remarkably quick.

Sir Pet. Egad, I shall rejoice to see my old friend. 'Tis fifteen years since we met.-We have had many a day together :-but does he still enjoin us not to inform his nephews of his arrival?

Row. Most strictly. He means, before it is known, to make some trial of their dispositions.

Sir Pet. Ah! there needs no art to discover their merits-he shall have his way: but, pray, does he know I am married?

Row. Yes, and will soon wish you joy.

Sir Pet. What, as we drink health to a friend in a consumption! Ah! Oliver will laugh at me. We used to rail at matrimony together, and he has been steady to his text.-Well, he must be soon at my house, though-I'll instantly give orders for his reception. But, master Rowley, don't drop a word that lady Teazle and I ever disagree.

Row. By no means.

Sir Pet. For I should never be able to stand Noll's jokes; so I'd have him think, Lord forgive me! that we are a very happy couple.

Row. I understand you :-but then you must be very careful not to differ while he is in the house with you.

Sir Pet. Egad, and so we must-and that's impossible. Ah ! master Rowley, when an old bachelor marries a young wife, he deserves-no -the crime carries its punishment along with it. [Exeunt.

SCENE I.-A Room in Sir PETER TEAZLE'S

House.

Enter Sir PETER and Lady TEAZLE.

Sir Pet. Lady Teazle, lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!

Lady Teaz. Sir Peter, sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in everything, and what's more, I will, too. What! though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married.

Sir Pet. Very well, ma'am, very well;-so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?

Lady Teaz. Authority! no to be sure :-if you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me, and not married me: I am sure you were old enough.

Sir Pet. Old enough!-ay-there it is. Well, well, lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance.

Lady Teas. My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of fashion ought to be.

Sir Pet. No, no, madam, you shall throw away

no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. 'Slife! to spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a greenhouse, and give a fête champetre at Christmas.

Lady Teaz. And am I to blame, sir Peter, because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I'm sure, I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet!

Sir Pet. Oons! madam-if you had been born to this, I should'nt wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I married you.

Lady Teaz. No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you. Sir Pet. 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; your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your own working.

Lady Teaz. O, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led.-My daily occupation to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make

extracts from the family receipt-book,-and comb my aunt Deborah's lapdog.

Sir Pet. Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed.

Lady Teaz. And then you know, my evening amusements! To draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make, up; to play pope Joan with the curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.

Sir Pet. I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these were the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your coachvis-à-vis-and three powdered footmen before your chair; and, in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington-gardens. No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, behind the butler, on a docked coach-horse.

Lady Teaz. No-I swear I never did that: I deny the butler and the coach-horse.

Sir Pet. This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done for you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank; in short, I have made you my wife.

Lady Teaz. Well then,-and there is but one thing more you can make me to add to the obligation, and that is

Sir Pet. My widow, I suppose?

Lady Teaz. Hem! hem!

Sir Pet. I 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 Teaz. Then why will you endeavour to make yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense?

Sir Pet. 'Slife, madam, I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me?

Lady Teas. Lud, sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?

Sir Pet. The fashion, indeed! what had you to do with the fashion before you married me?

Lady Teaz. For my part, I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of

taste.

Sir Pet. Ay-there again-taste! - Zounds! madam, you had no taste when you married me!

Lady Teaz. That's very true indeed, sir Peter; and after having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now, sir Peter, if we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at lady Sneerwell's.

Sir Pet. Ay, there's another precious circumstance-a charming set of acquaintance you have made there!

Lady Teaz. Nay, sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation.

Sir Pet. Yes, egad, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance; for they don't choose anybody should have a character but themselves! -Such a crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation.

Lady Teaz. What, would you restrain the freedom of speech?

Sir Pet. Ah! they have made you just as bad as any one of the society.

Lady Teaz. 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 illnatured 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 Pet. Well, well, I'll call in just to look after my own character.

Lady Teaz. Then indeed you must make haste after me, or you'll be too late. So, good-bye to ye. [Exit.

Sir Pet. So I have gained much by my intended expostulation! Yet, with what a charming air she contradicts everything I say, and how pleasingly she shows her contempt for my authority! Well, though I can't make her love me, there is 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.—A Room in Lady SNEERWELL'S House.

Lady SNEERWELL, Mrs. CANDOUR, CRABTREE, Sir BENJAMIN BACKBITE, and JOSEPH SURFACE, discovered.

Lady Sneer. Nay, positively, we will hear it. Jos. Surf. Yes, yes, the epigram, by all means. Sir Ben. O plague on't, uncle! 'tis mere non

sense.

Crab. No, no; 'fore Gad, very clever for an extempore!

Sir Ben. But, ladies, you should be acquainted with the circumstance. You must know, that one day last week, as lady Betty Curricle was taking the dust in Hyde Park, in a sort of duodecimo phaeton, she desired me to write some verses on her ponies; upon which I took out my pocketbook, and, in one moment, produced the following :

Sure never were seen two such beautiful ponies; Other horses are clowns, but these macaronies: To give them this title I'm sure can't be wrong, Their legs are so slim, and their tails are so long. Crab. There, ladies, done in the smack of a whip, and on horseback too.

Jos. Surf. A very Phoebus, mounted-indeed, sir Benjamin!

Sir Ben. O dear, sir! trifles-trifles.

Enter Lady TEAZLE and MARIA. Mrs. Can. I must have a copy. Lady Sneer. Lady Teazle, I hope we shall see sir Peter ?

Lady Teas. I believe he'll wait on your ladyship presently.

Lady Sneer. Maria, my love, you look grave. Come, you shall sit down to piquet with Mr. Surface.

Mar. I take very little pleasure in cards-however, I'll do as you please.

Lady Teaz. I am surprised Mr. Surface should sit down with her; I thought he would have embraced this opportunity of speaking to me, before sir Peter came. [Aside.

Mrs. Can. Now, I'll die, but you are so scandalous, I'll forswear your society.

Lady Teaz. What's the matter, Mrs. Candour ?

Mrs. Can. They'll not allow our friend Miss Vermilion to be handsome.

Lady Sneer. Oh, surely, she is a pretty woman. Crab. I am very glad you think so, ma'am. Mrs. Can. She has a charming fresh colour. Lady Teaz. Yes, when it is fresh put on. Mrs. Can. O fy! I'll swear her colour is natural I have seen it come and go!

Lady Teaz. I dare swear you have, ma'am: it goes off at night, and comes again in the morning.

Sir Ben. True, ma'am, it not only comes and goes, but, what's more-egad, her maid can fetch and carry it!

Mrs. Can. Ha! ha! ha! how I hate to hear you talk so! But surely now, her sister is, or was, very handsome.

Crab. Who? Mrs. Evergreen? O Lord! she's six-and-fifty if she's an hour!

Mrs. Can. Now positively you wrong her; fifty-two or fifty-three is the utmost-and I don't think she looks more.

Sir Ben. Ah! there's no judging by her looks, unless one could see her face.

Lady Sneer. Well, well, if Mrs. Evergreen 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 Ochre chalks her wrinkles.

Sir Ben. Nay, now, lady Sneerwell, you are severe upon the widow. Come, come, 'tis not that she paints, so ill-but, when she has finished her face, she joins it so badly to her neck, that she looks like a mended statue, in which the connoisseur sees at once that the head's modern, though the trunk's antique.

Crab. Ha ha ha! well said, nephew!

Mrs. Can. Ha! ha ha! well, you make me laugh; but I vow I hate you for it.-What do you think of Miss Simper?

Sir Ben. Why, she has very pretty teeth.

Lady Teaz. 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,— thus. [Shows her teeth. Mrs. Can. How can you be so ill-natured? Lady Teaz. 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 positively resembles the aperture of a poor's box, and all her words appear to slide out edgewise, as it were,-thus-How do you do, madam ?

madam.

Yes,

Lady Sneer. Very well, Lady Teazle; I see you can be a little severe.

Lady Teaz. In defence of a friend it is but justice. But here comes sir Peter to spoil our pleasantry.

Enter Sir PETER TEAZLE.

Sir Pet. Ladies, your most obedient.—[Aside.] Mercy on me! here is the whole set! a character dead at every word, I suppose.

Mrs. Can. I am rejoiced you are come, sir Peter. They have been so censorious-and lady Teazle as bad as any one.

Sir Pet. It must be very distressing to you, Mrs. Candour, I dare swear.

Mrs. Can. Oh, they will allow good qualities to nobody; not even good-nature to our friend Mrs. Pursy.

Lady Teaz. What, the fat dowager who was at Mrs. Quadrille's last night?

Mrs. Can. Nay, her bulk is her misfortune; and, when she takes such pains to get rid of it, you ought not to reflect on her.

Lady Sneer. That's very true, indeed.

Lady Teaz. Yes, I know she almost lives on acids and small whey; laces herself by pulleys; and often in the hottest noon in 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. Can. I thank you, lady Teazle, for defending her.

Sir Pet. Yes, a good defence, truly!

Mrs. Can. Truly, lady Teazle is as censorious as Miss Sallow.

Crab. Yes, and she is a curious being to pretend to be censorious-an awkward gawky, without any one good point under heaven.

Mrs. Can. Positively you shall not be so very severe. Miss Sallow is a near 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.

Lady Sneer. Though, surely, she is handsome still-and for the weakness in her eyes, considering how much she reads by candlelight, it is not to be wondered at.

Mrs. Can. 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 Welsh milliner, and her father a sugar-baker at Bristol.

Sir Ben. Ah! you are both of you too goodnatured!

Sir Pet. Yes, damned good-natured! their own relation! mercy on me!

This [Aside.

Mrs. Can. For my part, I own I cannot bear to hear a friend ill spoken of.

Sir Pet. No, to be sure!

Sir Ben. Oh! you are of a moral turn.-Mrs. Candour and I can sit for an hour and hear lady Stucco talk sentiment.

Lady Teaz. Nay, I vow lady Stucco is very well with the dessert after dinner; for she's just like the French fruit one cracks for mottoesmade up of paint and proverb.

Mrs. Can. Well, I never will join in ridiculing a friend; and so I constantly tell my cousin Ogle, and you all know what pretensions she has to be critical on beauty.

Crab. Oh, to be sure! she has herself the oddest countenance that ever was seen; 'tis a collection of features from all the different countries of the globe.

Sir Ben. So she has, indeed-an Irish frontCrab. Caledonian locks

Sir Ben. Dutch nose

Crab. Austrian lips

Sir Ben. Complexion of a Spaniard—
Crab. And teeth à la Chinoise--

Sir Ben. In short, her face resembles a table d'hôte at Spa-where no two guests are of a nation

Crab. Or a congress at the close of a general war wherein all the members, even to her eyes, appear to have a different interest, and her nose and chin are the only parties likely to join issue.

Mrs. Can. Ha ha! ha! Sir Pet. Mercy on my life!—a person they dine with twice a week!

[Aside. Lady Sneer. Go, go; you are a couple of provoking toads.

Mrs. Can. Nay, but I vow you shall not carry the laugh off so-for give me leave to say, that Mrs. Ogle

Sir Pet. Madam, madam, I beg your pardonthere's no stopping these good gentlemen's tongues. -But when I tell you, Mrs. Candour, that the lady they are abusing is a particular friend of mine, I hope you'll not take her part.

Lady Sneer. Ha! ha! ha! well said, sir Peter! but you are a cruel creature, too phlegmatic yourself for a jest, and too peevish to allow wit in others.

Sir Pet. Ah! madam, true wit is more nearly allied to good-nature than your ladyship is aware of. Lady Teaz. True, sir Peter: I believe they are so near akin that they can never be united.

Sir Ben. Or rather, madam, suppose them to be man and wife, because one seldom sees them together.

Lady Teaz. But sir Peter is such an enemy to scandal, I believe he would have it put down by parliament.

Sir Pet. 'Fore heaven, madam, if they were to consider the sporting with reputation of as much importance as poaching on manors, and pass an act for the preservation of fame, I believe there are many would thank them for the bill.

Lady Sneer. O Lud! sir Peter; would you deprive us of our privileges?

Sir Pet. Ay, madam ; and then no person should be permitted to kill characters and run down reputations, but qualified old maids and disappointed

widows.

Lady Sneer. Go, you monster !

Mrs. Can. But, surely, you would not be quite so severe on those who only report what they hear?

Sir Pet. Yes, madam, I would have law merchant for them too; and in all cases of slander currency, whenever the drawer of the lie was not to be found, the injured parties should have a right to come on any of the indorsers.

Crab. Well, for my part, I believe there never was a scandalous tale without some foundation.

Sir Pet. Oh, nine out of ten of the malicious inventions are founded on some ridiculous misrepresentation!

Lady Sneer. Come, ladies, shall we sit down to cards in the next room?

Enter Servant, who whispers Sir PETER. Sir Pet. I'll be with them directly.-[Exit Servant.] I'll get away unperceived. Lady Sneer. Sir Peter, you are not going to leave us?

[Aside.

Sir Pet. Your ladyship must excuse me; I'm called away by particular business. But I leave my character behind me. [Exit.

Sir Ben. Well-certainly, lady Teazle, that lord of yours is a strange being: I could tell you some stories of him would make you laugh heartily if he were not your husband.

Lady Teaz. Oh, pray don't mind that ;-come, do let's hear them.

[Exeunt all but JOSEPH SURFACE and MARIA.

Jos. Surf. Maria, I see you have no satisfaction in this society.

Mar. How is it possible I should?-If to raise malicious smiles at the infirmities or misfortunes of those who have never injured us be the province of wit or humour, Heaven grant me a double portion of dulness!

Jos. Surf. Yet they appear more ill-natured than they are; they have no malice at heart.

Mar. Then is their conduct still more contemptible; for, in my opinion, nothing could excuse the interference of their tongues, but a natural and uncontrollable bitterness of mind.

Jos. Surf. Undoubtedly, madam; and it has always been a sentiment of mine, that to propagate a malicious truth wantonly is more despicable than to falsify from revenge. But can you, Maria, feel thus for others, and be unkind to me alone? Is hope to be denied the tenderest passion?

Mar. Why will you distress me by renewing the subject?

Jos. Surf. Ah, Maria! you would not treat me thus, and oppose your guardian, sir Peter's will, but that I see that profligate Charles is still a favoured rival.

Mar. Ungenerously urged !-But whatever my sentiments are for that unfortunate young man, be assured I shall not feel more bound to give him up, because his distresses have lost him the regard even of a brother.

Jos. Surf. Nay, but Maria, do not leave me with a frown by all that's honest, I swear

Re-enter Lady TEAZLE behind.

[Kneels.

[Aside.] Gad's life, here's lady Teazle- [Aloud to MARIA.] You must not-no, you shall not-for, though I have the greatest regard for lady TeazleMar. Lady Teazle!

Jos. Surf. Yet were sir Peter to suspect

Lady Teaz. [Coming forward.] What is this, pray? Do you take her for me?-Child, you are wanted in the next room.-[Exit MARIA.] What is all this, pray?

Jos. Surf. Oh, the most unlucky circumstance in nature! Maria has somehow suspected the tender concern I have for your happiness, and threatened to acquaint sir Peter with her suspicions, and I was just endeavouring to reason with her when you came in.

Lady Teaz. Indeed! but you seemed to adopt a very tender mode of reasoning-do you usually argue on your knees?

Jos. Surf. Oh, she's a child, and I thought a little bombast-But, lady Teazle, when are you to give me your judgment on my library, as you promised?

Lady Teaz. No, no; I begin to think it would be imprudent, and you know I admit you as a lover no farther than fashion sanctions.

Jos. Surf. True—a mere platonic cicisbeo-what every wife is entitled to.

Lady Teaz. Certainly, one must not be out of the fashion. However, I have so much of my country prejudices left, that, though sir Peter's ill-humour may vex me ever so, it never shall provoke me to

Jos. Surf. The only revenge in your power.Well-I applaud your moderation.

Lady Teaz. Go-you are an insinuating wretch! -But we shall be missed-let us join the company.