"Lady T. Sincerely.
"Lord T. Now then recollect your thoughts, and tell me seriously why you married me?
"Lady T. You insist upon truth, you say?
"Lord T. I think I have a right to it.
"Lady T. Why then, my lord, to give you at once a proof of my obedience and sincerity—I think—I married—to take off that restraint that lay upon my pleasures, while I was a single woman.
"Lord T. How, madam, is any woman under less restraint after marriage than before it?
"Lady T. O my lord! my lord! they are quite different creatures! Wives have infinite liberties in life that would be terrible in an unmarried woman to take.
"Lord T. Name one.
"Lady T. Fifty, if you please. To begin then, in the morning—a married women may have men at her toilet, invite them to dinner, appoint them a party in a stage box at the play; engross the conversation there, call 'em by their Christian names; talk louder than the players;—from thence jaunt into the city—take a frolicksome supper at an India house—perhaps, in her gaieté de coeur, toast a pretty fellow—then clatter again to this end of the town, break with the morning into an assembly, crowd to the hazard table, throw a familiar levant upon some sharp lurching man of quality, and if he demands his money, turn it off with a loud laugh, and cry—you'll owe it to him, to vex him! ha! ha!
"Lord T. [Aside]. Prodigious!"