SIR PETER. Why has anybody told you she was dead[?]

ROWLEY. Come, come, Sir Peter, you love her, notwithstanding your tempers do not exactly agree.

SIR PETER. But the Fault is entirely hers, Master Rowley--I am myself, the sweetest temper'd man alive, and hate a teasing temper; and so I tell her a hundred Times a day--

ROWLEY. Indeed!

SIR PETER. Aye 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 vexations--Maria--my Ward--whom I ought to have the Power of a Father 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.

ROWLEY. 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 honour'd master, was at his years nearly as wild a spark.

SIR PETER. 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 Eastern Bounty gave them an early independence. Of 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.

ROWLEY. 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 PETER. What! let me hear--

ROWLEY. Sir Oliver is arrived and at this moment in Town.

SIR PETER. How!--you astonish me--I thought you did not expect him this month!--

ROWLEY. I did not--but his Pa.s.sage has been remarkably quick.

SIR PETER. Egad I shall rejoice to see my old Friend--'Tis sixteen 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?

ROWLEY. Most strictly--He means, before He makes it known to make some trial of their Dispositions and we have already planned something for the purpose.

SIR PETER. Ah there needs no art to discover their merits--however he shall have his way--but pray does he know I am married!

ROWLEY. Yes and will soon wish you joy.

SIR PETER. You may tell him 'tis too late--ah Oliver will laugh at me--we used to rail at matrimony together--but He has been steady to his Text--well He must be at my house tho'--I'll instantly give orders for his Reception--but Master Rowley--don't drop a word that Lady Teazle and I ever disagree.

ROWLEY. By no means.

SIR PETER. For I should never be able to stand Noll's jokes; so I'd have him think that we are a very happy couple.

ROWLEY. I understand you--but then you must be very careful not to differ while He's in the House with you.

SIR PETER. Egad--and so we must--that's impossible. Ah! Master Rowley when an old Batchelor marries a young wife--He deserves-- no the crime carries the Punishment along with it.

[Exeunt.]

END OF THE FIRST ACT

ACT II

SCENE I.--SIR PETER and LADY TEAZLE

SIR PETER. Lady Teazle--Lady Teazle I'll not bear it.

LADY TEAZLE. Sir Peter--Sir Peter you--may scold or smile, according to your Humour[,] but I ought to have my own way in everything, and what's more I will too--what! tho' I was educated in the country I know very well that women of Fashion in London are accountable to n.o.body after they are married.

SIR PETER. Very well! ma'am very well! so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?

LADY TEAZLE. 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 PETER. Old enough--aye there it is--well--well--Lady Teazle, tho' my life may be made unhappy by your Temper--I'll not be ruined by your extravagance--

LADY TEAZLE. My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of Fashion ought to be.

SIR PETER. 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 Fete Champetre at Christmas.

LADY TEAZLE. Lord! Sir Peter am I to blame 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 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 amus.e.m.e.nts?

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 PaG.o.da 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.