Lady B. And pities all other women, because she thinks they envy her.

Bel. Pray, out of pity to ourselves, let us find a better subject, for I’m weary of this. Do you think your husband inclined to jealousy?

Lady B. Oh! no; he does not love me well enough for that. Lord! how wrong men’s maxims are! They are seldom jealous of their wives, unless they are very fond of them: whereas, they ought to consider the women’s inclinations, for there depends their fate. Well, men may talk; but they are not so wise as we: that’s certain.

Bel. At least in our affairs.

Lady B. Nay, I believe we should outdo them in the business of the state, too: for, methinks, they do and undo, and make but bad work on’t.

Bel. Why, then, don’t we get into the intrigues of government, as well as they?

Lady B. Because we have intrigues of our own, that make us more sport, child. And so, let’s in and consider of them.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Dressing Room

Lady Fanciful, Mademoiselle, and Cornet, discovered.

Lady F. How do I look this morning?

Cor. Your ladyship looks very ill, truly.

Lady F. Lard! how ill-natured thou art, Cornet, to tell me so, though the thing should be true. Don’t you know, that I have humility enough to be but too easily out of conceit with myself? Hold the glass: I dare say that will have more manners than you have. Mademoiselle, let me have your opinion too.

Madem. My opinion pe, matam, dat your ladyship never look so well in your life.

Lady F. Well, the French are the prettiest, obliging people! they say the most acceptable, well-mannered things—and never flatter.

Madem. Your ladyship say great justice, inteed.

Lady F. Nay, everything is just in my house, but Cornet. The very looking-glass gives her the dementi. But I’m almost afraid it flatters me, it makes me look so engaging.

[Looking affectedly in the glass.

Madem. Inteed, matam, your face pe handsomer den all de looking-glass in de world, croyez moi.

Lady F. But is it possible my eyes can be so languishing, and so very full of fire?

Madem. Matam, if de glass was burning-glass, I believe your eyes set de fire in de house.

Lady F. You may take that night-gown, mademoiselle. Get out of the room, Cornet. I can’t endure you.

[Exit Cornet. This wench, methinks, does look so insufferably ugly!

Madem. Everyting look ugly, matam, dat stand by your latyship.