MARIA. Well I'll not debate how far Scandal may be allowable-- but in a man I am sure it is always contemtable.--We have Pride, envy, Rivalship, and a Thousand motives to depreciate each other-- but the male-slanderer must have the cowardice of a woman before He can traduce one.

LADY SNEERWELL. I wish my Cousin Verjuice hadn't left us--she should embrace you.

SURFACE. Ah! she's an old maid and is privileged of course.

Enter SERVANT

Madam Mrs. Candour is below and if your Ladyship's at leisure will leave her carriage.

LADY SNEERWELL. Beg her to walk in. Now, Maria[,] however here is a Character to your Taste, for tho' Mrs. Candour is a little talkative everybody allows her to be the best-natured and best sort of woman.

MARIA. Yes with a very gross affectation of good Nature and Benevolence--she does more mischief than the Direct malice of old Crabtree.

SURFACE. Efaith 'tis very true Lady Sneerwell--Whenever I hear the current running again the characters of my Friends, I never think them in such Danger as when Candour undertakes their Defence.

LADY SNEERWELL. Hush here she is----

Enter MRS. CANDOUR

MRS. CANDOUR. My dear Lady Sneerwell how have you been this Century.

I have never seen you tho' I have heard of you very often.-- Mr. Surface--the World says scandalous things of you--but indeed it is no matter what the world says, for I think one hears nothing else but scandal.

SURFACE. Just so, indeed, Ma'am.

MRS. CANDOUR. Ah Maria Child--what[!] is the whole affair off between you and Charles? His extravagance; I presume--The Town talks of nothing else----

MARIA. I am very sorry, Ma'am, the Town has so little to do.

MRS. CANDOUR. True, true, Child; but there's no stopping people's Tongues. I own I was hurt to hear it--as I indeed was to learn from the same quarter that your guardian, Sir Peter[,] and Lady Teazle have not agreed lately so well as could be wish'd.

MARIA. 'Tis strangely impertinent for people to busy themselves so.

MRS. CANDOUR. Very true, Child; but what's to be done? People will talk--there's no preventing it.--why it was but yesterday I was told that Miss Gadabout had eloped with Sir Filagree Flirt. But, Lord!

there is no minding what one hears; tho' to be sure I had this from very good authority.

MARIA. Such reports are highly scandalous.

MRS. CANDOUR. So they are Child--shameful! shameful! but the world is so censorious no character escapes. Lord, now! who would have suspected your friend, Miss Prim, of an indiscretion Yet such is the ill-nature of people, that they say her unkle stopped her last week just as she was stepping into a Postchaise with her Dancing-master.

MARIA. I'll answer for't there are no grounds for the Report.

MRS. CANDOUR. Oh, no foundation in the world I dare swear[;]

no more probably than for the story circulated last month, of Mrs. Festino's affair with Colonel Ca.s.sino--tho' to be sure that matter was never rightly clear'd up.

SURFACE. The license of invention some people take is monstrous indeed.

MARIA. 'Tis so but in my opinion, those who report such things are equally culpable.

MRS. CANDOUR. To be sure they are[;] Tale Bearers are as bad as the Tale makers--'tis an old observation and a very true one--but what's to be done as I said before--how will you prevent People from talking--to-day, Mrs. Clackitt a.s.sured me, Mr. and Mrs. Honeymoon were at last become mere man and wife--like [the rest of their]

acquaintance--she likewise hinted that a certain widow in the next street had got rid of her Dropsy and recovered her shape in a most surprising manner--at the same [time] Miss Tattle, who was by affirm'd, that Lord Boffalo had discover'd his Lady at a house of no extraordinary Fame--and that Sir Harry Bouquet and Tom Saunter were to measure swords on a similar Provocation. but--Lord! do you think I would report these Things--No, no[!] Tale Bearers as I said before are just as bad as the talemakers.

SURFACE. Ah! Mrs. Candour, if everybody had your Forbearance and good nature--

MRS. CANDOUR. I confess Mr. Surface I cannot bear to hear People traduced behind their Backs[;] and when ugly circ.u.mstances come out against our acquaintances I own I always love to think the best--by the bye I hope 'tis not true that your Brother is absolutely ruin'd--

SURFACE. I am afraid his circ.u.mstances are very bad indeed, Ma'am--

MRS. CANDOUR. Ah! I heard so--but you must tell him to keep up his Spirits--everybody almost is in the same way--Lord Spindle, Sir Thomas Splint, Captain Quinze, and Mr. Nickit--all up, I hear, within this week; so, if Charles is undone, He'll find half his Acquaintance ruin'd too, and that, you know, is a consolation--

SURFACE. Doubtless, Ma'am--a very great one.

Enter SERVANT

SERVANT. Mr. Crabtree and Sir Benjamin Backbite.

LADY SNEERWELL. Soh! Maria, you see your lover pursues you-- Positively you shan't escape.

Enter CRABTREE and SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE

CRABTREE. Lady Sneerwell, I kiss your hand. Mrs. Candour I don't believe you are acquainted with my Nephew Sir Benjamin Backbite-- Egad, Ma'am, He has a pretty wit--and is a pretty Poet too isn't He Lady Sneerwell?

SIR BENJAMIN. O fie, Uncle!

CRABTREE. Nay egad it's true--I back him at a Rebus or a Charade against the best Rhymer in the Kingdom--has your Ladyship heard the Epigram he wrote last week on Lady Frizzle's Feather catching Fire--Do Benjamin repeat it--or the Charade you made last Night extempore at Mrs. Drowzie's conversazione--Come now your first is the Name of a Fish, your second a great naval commander--and

SIR BENJAMIN. Dear Uncle--now--prithee----

CRABTREE. Efaith, Ma'am--'twould surprise you to hear how ready he is at all these Things.

LADY SNEERWELL. I wonder Sir Benjamin you never publish anything.

SIR BENJAMIN. To say truth, Ma'am, 'tis very vulgar to Print and as my little Productions are mostly Satires and Lampoons I find they circulate more by giving copies in confidence to the Friends of the Parties--however I have some love-Elegies, which, when favoured with this lady's smile I mean to give to the Public.

[Pointing to MARIA.]

CRABTREE. 'Fore Heaven, ma'am, they'll immortalize you--you'll be handed down to Posterity, like Petrarch's Laura, or Waller's Sacharissa.

SIR BENJAMIN. Yes Madam I think you will like them--when you shall see in a beautiful Quarto Page how a neat rivulet of Text shall meander thro' a meadow of margin--'fore Gad, they will be the most elegant Things of their kind--

CRABTREE. But Ladies, have you heard the news?

MRS. CANDOUR. What, Sir, do you mean the Report of----

CRABTREE. No ma'am that's not it.--Miss Nicely is going to be married to her own Footman.

MRS. CANDOUR. Impossible!

CRABTREE. Ask Sir Benjamin.

SIR BENJAMIN. 'Tis very true, Ma'am--everything is fixed and the wedding Livery bespoke.