Jos. Surf. Hold! See whether it is or not, before you go to the door: I have a particular message for you if it should be my brother.

Ser. ’Tis her ladyship, sir; she always leaves the chair at the milliner’s in the next street.

Jos. Surf. Stay, stay: draw that screen before the window—that will do;—my opposite neighbour is a maiden lady of so curious a temper.—[Servant draws the screen, and exit.] I have a difficult hand to play in this affair. Lady Teazle has lately suspected my views on Maria; but she must by no means be let into that secret, —at least, till I have her more in my power.

Enter Lady Teazle.

Lady Teaz. What, sentiment in soliloquy now? Have you been very impatient? O Lud! don’t pretend to look grave. I vow I couldn’t come before.

Jos. Surf. O madam, punctuality is a species of constancy very unfashionable in a lady of quality.

[Places chairs, and sits after Lady Teazle is seated.

Lady Teaz. Upon my word, you ought to pity me. Do you know Sir Peter is grown so ill-natured to me of late, and so jealous of Charles too—that’s the best of the story isn’t it?

Jos. Surf. I am glad my scandalous friends keep that up.

[Aside.

Lady Teaz. I am sure I wish he would let Maria marry him, and then perhaps he would be convinced; don’t you Mr. Surface?

Jos. Surf. [Aside.] Indeed I do not.—[Aloud.] Oh, certainly I do! for then my dear Lady Teazle would also be convinced how wrong her suspicions were of my having any design on the silly girl.

Lady Teaz. Well, well, I’m inclined to believe you. But isn’t it provoking, to have the most ill-natured things said of one? And there’s my friend Lady Sneerwell has circulated I don’t know how many scandalous tales of me, and all without any foundation, too; that’s what vexes me.

Jos. Surf. Ay, madam, to be sure, that is the provoking circumstance—without foundation; yes, yes, there’s the mortification, indeed; for, when a scandalous story is believed against one, there certainly is no comfort like the consciousness of having deserved it.

Lady Teaz. No, to be sure, then I’d forgive their malice; but to attack me, who am really so innocent, and who never say an ill-natured thing of anybody—that is, of any friend; and then Sir Peter, too, to have him so peevish, and so suspicious, when I know the integrity of my own heart—indeed ’tis monstrous!

Jos. Surf. But, my dear Lady Teazle, ’tis your own fault if you suffer it. When a husband entertains a groundless suspicion of his wife, and withdraws his confidence from her, the original compact is broken, and she owes it to the honour of her sex to endeavour to outwit him.

Lady Teaz. Indeed! So that, if he suspects me without cause, it follows, that the best way of curing his jealousy is to give him reason for’t?

Jos. Surf. Undoubtedly—for your husband should never be deceived in you: and in that case it becomes you to be frail in compliment to his discernment.

Lady Teaz. To be sure, what you say is very reasonable, and when the consciousness of my innocence—