my ward, whom I ought to have the power of a father over, is determined to turn rebel too, and absolutely refuses the man whom I have long resolved on for her husband-- _Enter_ LADY TEAZLE. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it! _Lady Teaz._ Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in everything, and, what's more, I will too. What! though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married. _Sir Pet._ Very well, ma'am, very well; so a husband is to have no influence, no authority? _Lady Teaz._ Authority! No, to be sure. If you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me, and not married me: I am sure you were old enough. _Sir Pet._ Old enough!--ay, there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance! _Lady Teaz._ My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of fashion ought to be. _Sir Pet._ No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. Such wastefulness! to spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a greenhouse, and give a _fete champetre_ at Christmas. _Lady Teaz._ And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet. _Sir Pet._ Oons! madam--if you had been born to this, I shouldn't wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I married you. _Lady Teaz._ No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you. _Sir Pet._ Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler style--the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your own working. _Lady Teaz._ Oh, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led. My daily occupation--to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap-dog. _Sir Pet._ Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed. _Lady Teaz._ And then you know my evening amusements! To draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up; to play Pope Joan with the curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.