I own this is the utmost malice of fortune--but let me finish the letter.--"This calamity, dear Circuit, is of such a nature as baffles all advice, or interposition of friends, I shall therefore leave you to time, and your own good understanding." [_pretty and sensible._]--"yours," &c.--But let us see, what says the postscript--[_reads._] "Perhaps it may give you some comfort to know that you had sixteen almonds, and but two raisins against you." Mrs. CIRCUIT. But two! Sir LUKE. No more. Mrs. CIRCUIT. This must be Kitty Cribbage's doing, she has been tattling about the paltry trifle I owe her. Sir LUKE. Not unlikely: but come, bear up, my dear madam, and consider that _two_-- Mrs. CIRCUIT. Is as bad as two thousand. Sir LUKE. Granted; but perhaps it mayn't be too late to repair.--Gadso! I have thought of a scheme--I'll be elected myself, and then I warrant we manage-- Mrs. CIRCUIT. You, Sir Luke? that never can be. Sir LUKE. No, Madam, and why not?--why you don't suppose that they wou'd venture to-- Mrs. CIRCUIT. It would not only be against the spirit, but the very letter of their constitution to chuse you a member. Sir LUKE. Ay, Madam, how so? Mrs. CIRCUIT. _Their_ statutes are selected from all the codes that ever existed from the days of Lycurgus to the present Czarina. Sir LUKE. Well. Mrs. CIRCUIT. The law that relates to your case they have borrow'd from the Roman religion. Sir LUKE. As how? Mrs. CIRCUIT. As no man can be admitted a monk, who has the least corporal spot, or defect; so, no candidate can be receiv'd as a member who is depriv'd of the use of any one of his limbs. Sir LUKE. Nay, then indeed I am clearly cut out; that incapacity can never be got over. Mrs. CIRCUIT. Indeed, the Serjeant says, if the club could be induc'd to _resolve_ in your favour, then the _original law_ would signify nothing. Sir LUKE. Well, well, we'll see what can be done. [_A loud knocking._] But hush! the company's come; collect yourself, sweet Mrs. Circuit; don't give your enemies the malicious pleasure of seeing how this disappointment affects you. Mrs. CIRCUIT. Never fear; I know a little too much of the world not to turn this defeat to my credit. _Enter_ Colonel SECRET _and_ Mrs. SIMPER. Mrs. SIMPER. Your servant, Sir Luke; my dear Circuit, I am frighten'd to death--your people tell me, you are but just recover'd from a-- Mrs. CIRCUIT. Oh! nothing at all! a faintness, a kind of swimming--but those people are ever swelling that mole hills to mountains. Mrs. SIMPER. I protest I was afraid that you had suffer'd your late disappointment to lay hold of your spirits. Mrs. CIRCUIT. What disappointment, my dear? COLONEL. Mrs. Simper hints at the little mistake made this morning at the Thatch'd House. Mrs. CIRCUIT. That! ridiculous! I could have told you that a fortnight ago, child--all my own doing. Mrs. SIMPER. How! Sir LUKE. Entirely. Mrs. CIRCUIT.