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Sir P. What, madam! is there no respect due to the authority of a husband ?
Lady T. Why, don't I know that no woman of fashion does as she is bid after her marriage. Though I was bred in the country, I'm no stranger to that: if you wanted me to be obedient, you should have adopted me, and not married me — I'm sure you were old enough.
Sir P. Ay, there it is - madam, what right have you to run into all this extravagance ?
Lady T. I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of quality ought to be.
Sir P. Madam, I'll have no more sums squandered away upon such unmeaning luxuries : you have as many flowers in your dressing-rooms as would turn the Pantheon into a green-house.
Lady T. La, Sir Peter, am I to blame that flowers don't blow in cold weather ? you must blame the climate and not me. I'm sure, for my part, I wish it were spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet.
Sir P. Madam, I should not wonder at your extravagance, if you had been bred to it. Had you any of these things before you married me?
Lady T. Dear, Sir Peter, how can you be angry at those little elegant expenses ?
Sir P. Had you any of those little elegant expenses when you married me?
Lady T. Very true, indeed ; and after having married you, I should never pretend to taste again.
Sir P. Very well, very well, madam ; you have entirely forgot what your situation was when I first saw you.
Lady T. No, no, I have not; a very disagreeable situation it was, or I'm sure I never would have married you.
Sir P. You forget the humble state I took you from — the daughter of a poor country 'squire. When I came to your father's, I found you sitting at your tambour, in a linen gown, a bunch of keys at your side, and your hair combed smoothly over a roll.
Lady T. Yes, I remember very well; my daily occupations were
to overlook the dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family receipt book, and comb my aunt Deborah’s lap-dog.
Sir P. Oh, I am glad to find you have so good a recollection.
Lady. T. My evening employments were to draw patterns for ruffles, which I bad not materials to make up; play at Pope Joan with the curate; read a sermon to my aunt Deborah; or perhaps be stuck up at an old spinnet to thrum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.
Sir P. Then you were glad to take a ride out behind the butler upon the old dock'd coach-horse.
Lady T. No, no, I deny the butler and the coach-horse.
Sir P. I say you did. This was your situation. Now, madam, you must have your coach vis-a-vis, and three powdered footmen to walk before your chair; and in summer, two white cats to draw you to Kensington gardens; and, instead of your living in that hole in the country, I have brought you home here, made a woman of fortune of you, a woman of quality — in short, I have made you my wife.
Lady T. Well, and there is but one thing more you can add to the obligation, and that is
Sir P. To make you my widow, I suppose.
Sir P. Very well, madam, very well; I am much obliged to you for the bint.
Lady T. Why then will you force me to say shocking things to you. But now we have finished our morning conversation, I presume I may go to my engagements at Lady Sneerwell's.
Sir P. Lady Sneerwell ! - a precious acquaintance you have made of her too, and the set that frequent her house. Such a set, mercy on us! Many a wretch who has been drawn upon a hurdle, has done less mischief than those barters of forged lies, coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation.
Lady T. How can you be so severe: I am sure they are all people of fashion, and very tenacious of reputation.
Sir P. Yes, so tenacious of it, they'll not allow it to any but themselves.
Lady T. I vow, Sir Peter, when I say an ill-natured thing, I mean no harm by it, for I take it for granted they'd do the same by me.
Sir P. They've made you as bad as any of them,
Lady T. Then, upon my word, you must make haste after me, or you'll be too late.
Sir P. I have got much by my intended expostulation. What a charming air she has ! --- and how pleasingly she shows her contempt of my authority! Well, though I can't make her love me, 'tis some pleasure to tease her a little; and I think she never appears to such advantage, as when she is doing everything to vex and plague me.
PATENT AND DOWLAS.
Patent. Walk in, sir; your servant, sir— have you any particular business with me? · Dowlas. Yes, sir, my friends have lately discovered that I have a genius for the stage.
Patent. Oh, you'd be a player, sir; did you ever play?
Patent. I hope not, sir ; flattering one's-self is the very worst kind of hypocrisy.
Dowlas. You'll excuse me, sir.
Patent. Ay, sir, if you'll excuse me for not flattering you -] always speak my mind.
Dowlas. I dare say you will like my manner, sir.
Patent. No manner of doubt, sir — I dare say I shall. Pray, sir, with which of the ladies are you in love?
Dowlas. In love, sir ! — ladies ! [Looking round.]
Patent. Ay, Miss Comedy, or Dame Tragedy?
Patent. Your lodgings, sir? no, not I; ha, ha, ha! I should be glad to know what department you would wish to possess in the tragic walk- the sighing lover, the furious hero, or the sly assassin ?
Dowlas. Sir, I should like to play King Richard the Third.
Patent. An excellent character indeed — a very good character ; and I dare say you will play it well, sir.
Dowlas. I hope you'll have no reason to complain, sir.
Patent. I hope not. Well, sir, have you got any favourite passage ready ?
Dowlas. I have it all by heart, sir.
What, will the asspiring blood of Lancaster
I that have neither pity, love, nor fear. Patent. Hold, sir, hold — in pity hold, za, za, za, sir — sir, why, sir, 'tis not like humanity. You won't find me so great a barbarian as Richard : you say he had neither pity, love, nor fear ; now, sir, you will find that I am possessed of all these feelings for you at present — I pity your conceit, I love to speak my mind; and — Ifear you'll never make a player.
Dowlas. Do you think so, sir ?
Patent. Do I think so, sir! Yes, I know so, sir! Now, sir, only look at yourself — your two legs kissing as if they had fallen in love with one another — and your arms dingle dangle, like the
fins of a dying turtle [mimicks kim] ’pon my soul, sir, 'twill never do. Pray, sir, are you of any profession ?
Dowlas. Yes, sir, a linen draper.
Patent. A linen draper! an excellent business: a very good business — you'll get more by that than by playing, you had better mind your thrums and your shop, and don't pester me any more with your Richard and your –za, za, za, - this is a genius! plague upon such geniuses I say.
COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT'S FIRST DINNER WITH MR. ADAMS, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
The first thing as I did, said David, when I got to Washington, was to go to the President's house, thinks I, who's afeard? So says I, how do you do, Mr. Adams ? So says he, how do you do, Mr. Crockett ? I am glad to see you, and he shook me by the hand, although he know'd I went the whole hog for Jackson at the late election, if he didn't, I wish I may be shot! Not only this, but he sent me a printed ticket to dine with him, I've got it in my pocket yet, if I haven't, I wish I may be shot; Well, I went to dinner, and walked round and round the long table, looking for something as I liked - at last I sot myself down just aside a fat goose, and helped myself to as much as I wanted; but I hadn't ta'en above three bites, when I looked away up the table at a feller they called Tash ! (Attachè.) He was talking French to a woman on t'other side of the table. He dodged his head, and she dodged hern, and at last they got to drinking wine across the table, if they didn't, I wish I may be shot! But when I look’d back, my plate was gone, goose and all, so I jist kest my eyes kinder slantendicular up tother side of the table, and sure enough I seed a white man walking off with my plate. So says I, hello, mister, bring back that air plate. He brought it back purty slick, as you may suppose, but when he set it down before me, how do you think’t was? Licked as clean as my hand, if it wasn't, I wish I may be shot! Says he, what