nt in London, because there are so many
examples to encourage the subject to rebel. O
Dorinda! Dorinda! a fine woman may do anything
in London: o' my conscience, she may raise an
army of forty thousand men. {139}

_Dor_. I fancy, sister, you have a mind to be trying your
power that way here in Lichfield; you have drawn
the French count to your colours already.

_Mrs. Sul_. The French are a people that can't live
without their gallantries.

_Dor_. And some English that I know, sister, are not
averse to such amusements.

_Mrs. Sul_. Well, sister, since the truth must out, it may
do as well now as hereafter; I think, one way to
rouse my lethargic, sottish husband, is to give him
a rival: security begets negligence in all people,
and men must be alarmed to make 'em alert-in their
duty. Women are like pictures, of no value in the
hands of a fool, till he hears men of sense bid high
for the purchase.

_Dor_. This might do, sister, if my brother's understanding
were to be convinced into a passion for you; but,
I fancy, there's a natural aversion on his side; and
I fancy, sister, that you don't come much behind
him, if you dealt fairly. {159}

_Mrs. Sul_. I own it, we are united contradictions, fire
and water: but I could be contented, with a great
many other wives, to humour the censorious mob,
and give the world an appearance of living well with
my husband, could I bring him but to dissemble a
little kindness to keep me in countenance.

_Dor_. But how do you know, sister, but that, instead of
rousing your husband by this artifice to a counterfeit
kindness, he should awake in a real fury?

_Mrs. Sul_. Let him: if I can't entice him to the one, I
would provoke him to the other. {170}

_Dor_. But how must I behave myself between ye?

_Mrs. Sul_. You must assist me.

_Dor_. What, against my own brother?

_Mrs. Sul_. He's but half a brother, and I 'm your entire
friend. If I go a step beyond the bounds of honour,
leave me; till then, I expect you should go along with
me in everything; while I trust my honour in your
hands, you may trust your brother's in mine. The
count is to dine here to-day.

_Dor_. 'Tis a strange thing, sister, that I can't like that
man. {181}

_Mrs. Sul_. You like nothing; your time is not come;
Love and Death have their fatalities, and strike home
one time