LADY TEAZLE. What, the fat dowager who was at Mrs. Codrille's [Quadrille's] last Night?
LADY SNEERWELL. Nay—her bulk is her misfortune and when she takes such Pains to get rid of it you ought not to reflect on her.
MRS. CANDOUR. 'Tis very true, indeed.
LADY TEAZLE. Yes, I know she almost lives on acids and small whey—laces herself by pulleys and often in the hottest noon of summer you may see her on a little squat Pony, with her hair plaited up behind like a Drummer's and puffing round the Ring on a full trot.
MRS. CANDOUR. I thank you Lady Teazle for defending her.
SIR PETER. Yes, a good Defence, truly!
MRS. CANDOUR. But for Sir Benjamin, He is as censorious as Miss Sallow.
CRABTREE. Yes and she is a curious Being to pretend to be censorious—an awkward Gawky, without any one good Point under Heaven!
LADY SNEERWELL. Positively you shall not be so very severe. Miss Sallow is a Relation of mine by marriage, and, as for her Person great allowance is to be made—for, let me tell you a woman labours under many disadvantages who tries to pass for a girl at six-and-thirty.
MRS. CANDOUR. Tho', surely she is handsome still—and for the weakness in her eyes considering how much she reads by candle-light it is not to be wonder'd at.