re.

DIALOGUE XXVII.

MERCURY--AND A MODERN FINE LADY.

_Mrs. Modish_.--Indeed, Mr. Mercury, I cannot have the pleasure of
waiting upon you now. I am engaged, absolutely engaged.

_Mercury_.--I know you have an amiable, affectionate husband, and several
fine children; but you need not be told, that neither conjugal
attachments, maternal affections, nor even the care of a kingdom's
welfare or a nation's glory, can excuse a person who has received a
summons to the realms of death. If the grim messenger was not as
peremptory as unwelcome, Charon would not get a passenger (except now and
then a hypochondriacal Englishman) once in a century. You must be
content to leave your husband and family, and pass the Styx.

_Mrs. Modish_.--I did not mean to insist on any engagement with my
husband and children; I never thought myself engaged to them. I had no
engagements but such as were common to women of my rank. Look on my
chimney-piece, and you will see I was engaged to the play on Mondays,
balls on Tuesdays, the opera on Saturdays, and to card assemblies the
rest of the week, for two months to come; and it would be the rudest
thing in the world not to keep my appointments. If you will stay for me
till the summer season, I will wait on you with all my heart. Perhaps
the Elysian fields may be less detestable than the country in our world.
Pray have you a fine Vauxhall and Ranelagh? I think I should not dislike
drinking the Lethe waters when you have a full season.

_Mercury_.--Surely you could not like to drink the waters of oblivion,
who have made pleasure the business, end, and aim of your life! It is
good to drown cares, but who would wash away the remembrance of a life of
gaiety and pleasure.

_Mrs. Modish_.--Diversion was indeed the business of my life, but as to
pleasure, I have enjoyed none since the novelty of my amusements was gone
off. Can one be pleased with seeing the same thing over and over again?
Late hours and fatigue gave me the vapours, spoiled the natural
cheerfulness of my temper, and even in youth wore away my youthful
vivacity.

_Mercury_.--If this way of life did not give you pleasure, why did you
continue in it? I suppose you did not think it was very meritorious?

_Mrs. Modish_.--I was too much engaged to think at all: so far indeed my
manner of life was agreeable enough. My friends always told me
diversions were necessary, and my doctor assured me dissipation was good
for my sp