_Lady Teaz._ Then, indeed, you must make haste after me, or you'll be too late. So good-bye to ye. [_Exit._ _Sir Pet._ So--I have gained much by my intended expostulation! Yet with what a charming air she contradicts everything I say; and how pleasantly she shows her contempt for my authority! Well, though I can't make her love me; there is great satisfaction in quarrelling with her; and I think she never appears to such advantage as when she is doing everything in her power to plague me. [_Exit_. SCENE.--_A room in_ LADY SNEERWELL'S _House._ LADY SNEERWELL, MRS. CANDOUR, CRABTREE, SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE, _and_ JOSEPH SURFACE, _discovered_. _Enter_ LADY TEAZLE _and_ MARIA. _Lady Sneer._ Lady Teazle, I hope we shall see Sir Peter? _Lady Teaz._ I believe he'll wait on your ladyship presently. _Lady Sneer._ Maria, my love, you look grave. Come, you shall sit down to piquet with Mr. Surface. _Mar._ I take very little pleasure in cards--however, I'll do as your ladyship pleases. _Mrs. Can._ Now I'll die; but you are so scandalous, I'll forswear your society. _Lady Teaz._ What's the matter, Mrs. Candour? _Mrs. Can._ They'll not allow our friend Miss Vermillion to be handsome. _Lady Sneer._ Oh, surely she is a pretty woman. _Crab._ I am very glad you think so, ma'am. _Mrs. Can._ She has a charming fresh color. _Lady Teaz._ Yes, when it is fresh put on. _Mrs. Can._ Oh, fie! Her color is natural: I have seen it come and go! _Lady Teaz._ I dare say you have, ma'am: it goes off at night, and comes again in the morning. _Sir Ben._ True, ma'am, it not only comes and goes; but, what's more, her maid can fetch and carry it! _Mrs. Can._ Ha! ha! ha! how I hate to hear you talk so! But surely now, her sister is, or was, very handsome. _Crab._ Who? Mrs. Evergreen? Oh! she's six-and-fifty if she's an hour! _Mrs. Can._ Now positively you wrong her; fifty-two or fifty-three is the utmost--and I don't think she looks more. _Sir Ben._ Ah! there's no judging by her looks, unless one could see her face. _Lady Sneer._ Well, well, if Mrs. Evergreen does take some pains to repair the ravages of time, you must allow she effects it with great ingenuity; and surely that's better than the careless manner in which the widow Ochre caulks her wrinkles. _Sir Ben._ Nay, now, Lady Sneerwell, you are severe upon the widow. Come, come, 'tis not that she paints so ill--but, when she has finished her face, she joins it on so badly to her neck, that she looks like a mended statue, in which the connoisseur may see at once that the head is modern, though the trunk's antique. _Crab._ Ha! ha! ha! Well said, nephew! _Mrs. Can._ Ha! ha! ha! Well, you make me laugh; but I vow I hate you for it. What do you think of Miss Simper? _Sir Ben._ Why, she has very pretty teeth.