Med. A very pretty piece of gallantry by an eminent author called The Diversions of Brussels; very necessary to be read by all old ladies who are desirous to improve themselves at questions and commands, blindman’s buff, and the like fashionable recreations.

Emil. Oh, ridiculous!

Med. Then there is The Art of Affectation, written by a late beauty of quality, teaching you how to draw up your breasts, stretch up your neck, to thrust out your breech, to play with your head, to toss up your nose, to bite your lips, to turn up your eyes, to speak in a silly soft tone of a voice, and use all the foolish French words that will infallibly make your person and conversation charming, with a short apology at the latter end, in the behalf of young ladies who notoriously wash and paint, though they have naturally good complexions.

Emil. What a deal of stuff you tell us?

Med. Such as the town affords, madam. The Russians hearing the great respect we have for foreign dancing have lately sent over some of the best balladines, who are now practising a famous ballet, which will be sudddenly danced at the Bear Garden.

Lady Town. Pray forbear your idle stories, and give us an account of the state of love as it now stands.

Med. Truly there has been some revolutions in those affairs, great chopping and changing among the old, and some new lovers, whom malice, indiscretion, and misfortune have luckily brought into play.

Lady Town. What think you of walking into the next room, and sitting down before you engage in this business?

Med. I wait upon you, and I hope (though women are commonly unreasonable) by the plenty of scandal I shall discover to give you very good content, ladies.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II

Enter Mrs. Loveit and Pert. Mrs. Loveit putting up a letter, then pulling out her pocket-glass, and looking in it.

Lov. Pert.

Pert. Madam.

Lov. I hate myself, I look so ill to-day.

Pert. Hate the wicked cause on’t, that base man Mr. Dorimant, who makes you torment and vex yourself continually.

Lov. He is to blame, indeed.

Pert. To blame to be two days without sending, writing, or coming near you, contrary to his oath and covenant! ’twas to much purpose to make him swear: I’ll lay my life there’s not an article but he has broken—talked to the vizards i’ the pit; waited upon the ladies from the boxes to their coaches; gone behind the scenes and fawned upon those little insignificant creatures the players; ’tis impossible for a man of his inconstant temper to forbear, I’m sure.

Lov. I know he is a devil, but he has something of the angel yet undefaced in him, which makes him so charming and agreeable that I must love him be he never so wicked.