THOMAS. POX! I am afraid she suspects I can't read. MRS. MIDNIGHT. What conveniences, madam, would your ladyship want?

WIFE. Why, good woman, I shall want every thing which other fine ladyships want. Indeed, I don't know what I shall want yet: for I never was in town before: but I shall want every thing I see.

THOMAS. I hope your apartments here are handsome, and that people of fashion use to lodge with you.

MRS. MIDNIGHT. If you please, sir, I'll wait on your honour, and show you the rooms.

THOMAS. Ay, do, do so; do wait on me. John, do you hear, do you take care of all our things.

WIFE. Ay, pray, John, take care of the great cake and the cold turkey, and the ham and the chickens, and the bottle of sack, and the two bottles of strong beer, and the bottle of cyder.

JOHN. I'll take the best care I can: but a man would think he was got in to a fair. The folks stare at one as if they had never seen a man before. [Remain Tawdry and Wife. TAWDRY. Pray, madam, is not your ladyship infinitely tired with your journey?

WIFE. I tired! not I, I an't tired at all; I could walk twenty miles farther.

TAWDRY. O, I am surprised at that! most fine ladies are horribly fatigued after a journey.

WIFE. Are they?-Hum! I don't know whether I an't so too; yes, I am, I am horribly fatigued. (Well, I shall never find out all that a fine lady ought to be.) [Aside. TAWDRY. Was your ladyship never in town before, madam?

WIFE. No, madam, never before that I know of.

TAWDRY. I shall be glad to wait on you, madam, and show you the town.

WIFE. I am very much obliged to you, madam: and I am resolved to see every thing that is to be seen: the Tower, and the crowns, and the lions, and Bedlam, and the Parliamenthouse, and the Abbey

TAWDRY. O fie, madam! these are only sights for the vulgar; no fine ladies go to these.

WIFE. No! why then I won't neither! Oh! odious Tower and filthy lions. But pray, madam, are there no sights for a fine lady to see?

TAWDRY. O yes, madam; there are ridottos, masquerades, court, plays, and a thousand others, so many, that a fine lady has never time to be at home but when she is asleep. WIFE. I am glad to hear that; for I hate to be at home: but, dear madam, do tell me for I suppose you are a fine lady.

TAWDRY. At your service, madam.

WIFE. What do you fine ladies do at these places? What do they do at masquerades now? for I have heard of them in the country.

TAWDRY. Why they dress themselves in a strange dress, and they walk up and down the room, and they cry, Do you know me and then they burst out a laughing, and then they sit down, and then they get up, and then they walk about again, and then they go home.

WIFE. Oh! this is charming, and easy too; I shall be able to do a masquerade in a minute: well, but do tell me a little of the rest. What do they do at your what d'ye call 'ems, your plays?

TAWDRY. Why, if they can, they take a stage-box, where they let the footman sit the two first acts, to show his livery; then they come in to show themselves, spread their fans upon the spikes, make curtsies to their acquaintance, and then talk and laugh as loud as they are able.

WIFE. O delightful! By gole, I find there is nothing in a fine lady; anybody may be a fine lady if this be all.

AIR I.

If flaunting and ranting,
If noise and gallanting,

THOMAS. My dear, I have seen the rooms, and they are very handsome, and fit for us people of fashion.

WIFE. Oh, my dear, I am extremely glad on't. Do you know me? Ha, ha, ha, my dear, [stretching out her fan before her], ha, ha, ha!

THOMAS. Hey-day! What's the matter now?

WIFE. I am only doing over a fine lady at a masquerade, or play, that's all. [She coquets apart with her husband. TAWDRY. [to Mrs. Midnight]. She's simplicity itself. A card fortune has dealt you, which it's impossible for you to play ill. You may bring her to any purpose.

MRS. MIDNIGHT. I am glad to hear it: for she's really pretty, and I shall scarce want a customer for a tit-bit.

WIFE. Well, my dear, you won't stay long, for you know I can hardly bear you out of my sight; I shall be quite miserable till you come back, my dear, dear Tommy.

THOMAS. My dear Lucy, I will but go find out a tailor, and be back with you in an instant.

WIFE. Pray do, my dear.-Nay, t'other kiss; one more -Oh! thou art the sweetest creature.-Well, miss fine lady, pray how do you like my husband? Is he not a charming man?

TAWDRY. Your husband! Dear madam, and was it your husband that you kissed so?

WIFE. Why, don't fine ladies kiss their husbands?
TAWDRY. No, never.

WIFE. O la! but I don't like that though; by gole, I believe I shall never be a fine lady, if I must not be kissed. I like being a fine lady in other things, but not in that; I thank you. If your fine ladies are never kissed, by gole, I think we have not so much reason to envy them as I imagined.

SONG.

How happy are the nymphs and swains,
Who skip it and trip it all over the plains:
How sweet are the kisses,

How soft are the blisses,

Transporting the lads, and all melting their misses!
If ladies here so nice are grown,

Who jaunt it and flaunt it all over the town,
To fly as from ruin

From billing and cooing,

A fig for their airs, give me plain country wooing.

TAWDRY. Oh, you mistake me, madam; a fine lady may kiss any man but her husband. You will have all the beaus in town at your service.

WIFE. Beaus! O Gemini, those are things Miss Jenny used to talk of.-And pray, madam, do beaus kiss so much sweeter and better than other folks?

TAWDRY. Hum! I can't say much of that.

WIFE. And pray, then, why must I like them better than my own husband?

MRS. MIDNIGHT. Because it's the fashion, madam. Fine ladies do every thing because it's the fashion. They spoil their shapes, to appear big with child because it's the fashion. They lose their money at whist, without understanding the game; they go to auctions, without intending to buy; they go to operas, without any ear; and slight their husbands without disliking them; and all because it is the fashion.

WIFE. Well, I'll try to be as much in fashion as I can: but pray when must I go to these beaus? for I really long to see them. For Miss Jenny says, she's sure I shall like them; and if I do, i'facks! I believe I shall tell them so, notwithstanding what our parson says.

MRS. MIDNIGHT. Bravely said! I will show you some fine gentlemen, which I warrant you will like.

WIFE. And will they like me?

TAWDRY. Like you! they'll adore you, they'll worship you. Madam, says my lord, you are the most charming, beautiful, fine creature that ever my eyes beheld! WIFE. What's that? Do say that over again. TAWDRY. [Repeats.] Madam, you are, &c. WIFE. And will they think all this of me? TAWDRY. No doubt of it. They'll swear it. WIFE. Then to be sure they will think it. then to be sure they will think so. I wish I could see these charming men.

Yes, yes,

MRS. MIDNIGHT. Oh, you will see them everywhere. Here in the house I have had several to visit me, who have said the same thing to me and this young lady.

WIFE. What, did they call you charming and beautiful? -By gole, I think they may very well say so to me. [Aside.] But when will these charming men come?

MRS. MIDNIGHT. They'll be here immediately: but your ladyship will dress yourself. I see your man has brought your things. I suppose your ladyship has your clothes with you?

WIFE. O yes, I have clothes enough; I have a fine thread satin suit of clothes of all the colours in the rainbow; then I have a fine red gown, flowered with yellow, all my own