1st La. But, madam,[27] don't you hear what the town says of the jilt Flirt the men liked so much in the Park? Hark ye—was seen with him in an Hackney-coach—and silk stockings—key-hole—his wig—on the chair——[Whispers by interruptions.
2nd La. Impudent Flirt, to be found out!
3rd La. But I speak it only to you——
4th La. Nor I but to one more——[Whispers next woman.
5th La. I can't believe it; nay, I always thought it, madam——[Whispers the Widow.
Wid. Sure, 'tis impossible! the demure, prim thing! Sure all the world's hypocrisy. Well, I thank my stars, whatsoever sufferings I have, I've none in reputation. I wonder at the men; I could never think her handsome. She has really a good shape and complexion, but no mien; and no woman has the use of her beauty without mien! Her charms are dumb, they want utterance. But whither does distraction lead me—to talk of charms?
1st La. Charms? A chit's, a girl's charms. Come, let us widows be true to ourselves, keep our countenances and our characters, and a fig for the maids—I mean for the unmarried.
2nd La. Ay, since they will set up for our knowledge, why should not we for their ignorance?
3rd La. But, madam, on Sunday morning at church I curtsied to you, and looked at a great fuss in a glaring light dress next pew. That strong masculine thing is a knight's wife, pretends to all the tenderness in the world, and would fain put the unwieldy upon us for the soft, the languid! She has of a sudden left her dairy, and sets up for a fine town-lady, calls her maid Sisly her woman, speaks to her by her surname, Mrs. Cherryfist, and her great foot-boy of nineteen, big enough for a trooper, is striped into a lace coat, now Mr. Page forsooth.