To Satan's agent all her soul resigns.
Beware his soft insidious smiles,
Fly from his glance, and shun his wiles;
Avoid the serpent's poisonous breath,
'Tis fraught with infamy and death.—E.
MARRIAGE A LA MODE. PLATE IV.
By the old Peer's death our fair heroine has attained the summit of her wishes, and become a Countess. Intoxicated by this elevation, and vain of her new dignity, she ranges through the whole circle of frivolous amusements, and treads every maze of fashionable dissipation. Her excesses are rendered still more criminal by the consequent neglect of domestic duties; for, by the coral on the back of her chair, we are led to suppose that she is a mother. Her morning levee is crowded with persons of rank, and attended by her paramour, and that contemptible shadow of man, an Italian singer, with whose dulcet notes two of our right honourable group seem in the highest degree enraptured. This bloated animal, carelessly and consequentially leaning back in his chair, is dressed in a richly embroidered coat, and every finger is loaded with a diamond. Though in a morning, his solitaire, kneebands, and shoes are decorated with gems.[14] He is quavering,
"The seeming echo of what once was song,