Sir Peter.—I thank you, madam—but don't flatter yourself, for, though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you: however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.
Lady Teazle.—Then why will you endeavour to make yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense.
Sir Peter.—Oons! madam, I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me?
Lady Teazle.—Lud, Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?
Sir Peter.—The fashion, indeed! what had you to do with the fashion before you married me?
Lady Teazle.—For my part, I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of taste.
Sir Peter.—Ay—there again—taste! Zounds! madam, you had no taste when you married me!
Lady Teazle.—That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter! and, after having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's.
Sir Peter.—Ay, there's another precious circumstance—a charming set of acquaintance you have made there.
Lady Teazle.—Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation.