that can dispute your husband's heart with any body; but the exertion of those qualities, I am afraid, is suppressed. You'll excuse my freedom; I have been married, ma'am, and am a little in the secret. It is much more difficult to keep a heart than win one. After the fatal words, "For better for worse, "the general way with wives is, to relax into indolence, and while they are guilty of no infidelity, they think that is enough. But they are mistaken; there is a great deal wanting; an address, a manner, a desire of pleasing

Mrs. Love. (R. C.) But when the natural temper Mrs. Bell. The natural temper must be forced-Home must be made a place of pleasure to the husband, and the wife must throw infinite variety into her manner. And this, I take to be the whole mystery, the way to keep a man. But I run on at a strange rate-Well, to be sure, I'm the giddiest creature. Ma'am, will you now give me leave to inquire, how I came to have this favour? Who recommended me to your notice? And pray, who was so kind as to intimate that I was acquainted with Mr. Lovemore?

Mrs. Love. I beg your pardon for all the trouble I have given you, and I assure you, 'tis entirely owing to my being told that his visits were frequent here.

Mrs. Bell. His visits frequent here! They have imposed upon you, I assure you-and they have told you, perhaps, that I have robbed you of Mr. Lovemore's heart! Scandal is always buzzing about; but I assure you, I have not meddled with his heart-O lud! I hear a rap at the door-I positively won't be at home.

Enter MIGNIONet, l.

Mig. Did you call, madam?

Mrs. Bell. I am not at home.

Mig. "Tis Lord Etheridge, ma'am, he's coming up stairs; the servants told him you were within. Mrs. Bell. Was ever any thing so cross? Tell him, there is company with me, and he won't come in. Mignionet, run to him.

Mrs. Love. Ma'am, I beg i mayn't hinder you.

Mrs. Bell. Our conversation begins to grow interesting, and I would not have you go for the world. I won't see my lord.

Mrs. Love. I beg you will-don't let me prevent-I'll step into another room.

Mrs. Bell. Will you be so kind? There are books in that room, if you will be so obliging as to amuse yourself there. I shall be glad to resume this conversation again. He shan't stay long.

Mrs. Love. I beg you will be in no hurry-I can wait with pleasure.

Mrs. Bell. This is a lover of mine; and a husband and a lover should be treated in the same manner; per haps it will divert you to hear how I manage him. I hear him on the stairs-for Heaven's sake, make haste. Mignionet, show the way.

[Excunt MRS. LOVEMORE and MIGNIONET, R. D. Mrs. Bell. Let me see how I look to receive him. [Runs to her glass. Enter LOVEMORE, with a star and ribband, as LORD ETHERIDGE, L.

Looking in her glass.]. Lord Etheridge! Walk in, my lord.

Love. [Repeats.] A heavenly image in the glass appears,

To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears;

Repairs her smiles

Mrs. Bell. Repairs her smiles, my lord! I don't like your application of that phrase-Pray, my lord, are my smiles out of repair; like an old house in the country, that wants a tenant?

Love. Nay, now, that's resting the words from their visible intention. You can't suppose I thought you want repair, whatever may be the case, ma'am, with regard to the want of a tenant!

Mrs. Bell. And so you think I really want a tenant? And, perhaps, you imagine too, that I am going to put up a bill, [Looking in her glass] to signify to all passers by, that here is a mansion to let? [Coming forward.] Well, I swear, I don't think it would be a bad scheme. I have a great mind to do so.

Love. And he who has the preference

Mrs. Bell. (c.) Will be very happy-I know you mean so. But I'll let it to none but a single gentleman, that you may depend upon.

Love. (L.) What the devil does she mean by that! She has not got an inkling of the affair, I hope. [Aside.] None else could presume, madam, to

Mrs. Bell. And then, it must be a lease for life. But

nobody will be troubled with it; I shall never get it off my hands. Do you think I shall, my lord?

Love. Why that question, madam? You know I am devoted to you, even if it were to be bought with life.

Mrs. Bell. Heavens! what a dying swain you are! And does your lordship really intend to be guilty of matrimony? Lord, what a question have I asked? Well, to be sure, I am a very mad cap! My lord, don't you think me a strange mad cap?

Love. A wildness, like yours, that arises from vivacity and sentiment together, serves only to exalt your beauty, and gives new poignańcy to every charm.

Mrs. Bell. Well, upon my word, you have said it finely! But you are in the right, my lord; I hate your pensive melancholy beauty, that sits like a well-grown vegetable in a room for an hour together, till at last she is animated to the violent exertion of saying yes, or no, and then enters into a matter-of-fact conversation.Have you heard the news? Miss Beverly is going to be married to Captain Shouldernot. My Lord Mortgage has had another tumble at Arthur's. Sir William Squanderstock has lost his election. They say, short aprons are coming into fashion again."

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Love. O lord! a matter-of-fact conversation is insupportable.

Mrs. Bell. Pray, my lord, have you ever observed the manner of one lady's accosting another at Ranelagh? She comes up to you with a demure look of insipid serenity; makes you a solemn salute.- "Ma'am, I am overjoyed to meet you; you look charmingly, But, dear ma'am, did you hear what happened to us all the other night? We were going home from the opera, ma'am ; you know my aunt Rolypoly; it was her coach; there was she, and Lady Betty Fidget-Your most obedient servant, ma'am -[Courteseying to another, as it were going by.] Lady Betty, you know, is recovered; every body thought it over with her; but Doctor Snakeroot was called in-no, not Doctor Snakeroot, Doctor Bolus it was-and so he altered the course of medicine -and so my Lady Betty recovered :— -Well, there was she and Sir George Bragwell-a pretty man, Sir George; finest teeth in the world-Your ladyship's most obedient. We expected you last night, but you did not come-he! he! And so, there was he and the rest of us; and so,

turning the corner of Bond Street, the villain of a coachman-How do you do, madam? the villain of a coachinan overturned us all; my aunt Rolypoly was frightened out of her wits, and Lady Betty has been nervish ever since only think of that; such accidents in life. Ma'am, your most obedient; I am proud to see you look so well."

Love. An exact description-the very thing. Ha! ha!

Mrs. Bell. And then, from this conversation they all run to cards. "Quadrille has murdered wit."

Love. Ay, and beauty too; for upon these occasions, "the passions in the features are-" I have seen many a beautiful countenance change in a moment into absolute deformity; the little loves and graces, that before sparkled in the eye, bloomed in the cheek, and smiled about the mouth, all fly off in an instant, and resign the features which they before adorned, to fear, to anger, to grief, and the whole train of fretful passions.

Mrs. Bell. Ay, and the rage we poor women are often betrayed into on these occasions

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Love. Very true, ma'am; and if by chance they do bridle and hold in a little, the struggle they undergo is the most ridiculous sight imaginable. I have seen an oath quivering upon the pale lip of a reigning toast, for half an hour together, and then at last, when the whole room burst out into one loud universal uproar: 'My lord, you flung away the game--No, ma'am it was you. Sir George, why did not you rough the diamond! Čaptain Hazard, why did not you lead through the honour? Ma'am it was not the play. Pardon me, sir-But, ma'am-But, sir-I would not play with you for straws. Don't you know what Hoyle says? If A and B are partners against C and D, and the game nine-all, A and B have won three tricks, and C and D four tricks, C leads his suit, D puts up the king, then returns the suit, A passes, C puts up the queen, B trumps the next ;" and so, A and B, and C and D are banged about, and all is jargon, confusion, uproar, and wrangling, and nonsense, and noise.-Ha! ha!

Mrs. Bell. Ha! ha! A fine picture of a rout; but one must play sometimes; we must let our friends pick our pockets or they'll drop our acquaintance. Pray, my lord, do you never play?

Love. Play, ma'am! I must lie to the end of the

chapter [Aside] play! now and then, out of necessity; otherwise I never touch a card.

Mrs. Bell. Oh! very true, you dedicate your time to the muses; a downright rhyming peer. Do you know, my lord, that I am charmed with your song?

Love. Are you?

Mrs. Bell. I am indeed. I think you'd make a very tolerable Vauxhall poet.

Love. You flatter me, ma'am.

Mrs. Bell. No, as I live and breathe, I don't; and do you know, that I can sing it already? Come, you shall hear it. [Sings.

Attend all ye fair, and I'll tell ye the art,

To bind every fancy with ease in your chains, To hold in soft fetters the conjugal heart,

And banish from Hymen his doubts and his pains. When Juno accepted the cestus of love,

At first she was handsome; she charming became; With skill and soft passions it taught her to move, To kindle at once and to keep up the flame. 'Tis this gives the eyes all their magic and fire; The voice melting accents; impassions the kiss ; Confers the sweet smiles, that awaken desire,

And plants round the fair, each incentive to bliss. Thence flows the gay chat, more than reason that charms;

The eloquent blush, that can beauty improve; The fond sigh, the fond vow, the soft touch that alarms,

The tender disdain the renewal of love.

Ye fair take the cestus, and practise its art;

The mind unaccomplish'd, mere features are vain ; Exert your sweet pow'r, you will conquer each heart, And the loves, joys, and graces, shall walk in your train.

Love. My poetry is infinitely obliged to you for the embellishments your voice and manner confer upon it.

Mrs. Bell. O, fulsome! I sing horridly, and I look horridly.-[Goes to the glass] How do I look, my lord ? But don't tell me I won't be told. I see you are studying a compliment, and I hate compliments; well, what is it? Let's hear your compliment-why don't you compliment