"Mar. I own, madam, I have no pleasure in their conversation. I have myself no gratification in uttering detraction, and therefore none in hearing it.
"Lady S. Oh fie, you are serious—'tis only a little harmless raillery.
"Mar. I never can think that harmless which hurts the peace of youth, draws tears from beauty, and gives many a pang to the innocent.
"Lady S. Nay, you must allow that many people of sense and wit have this foible—Sir Benjamin Backbite, for instance.
"Mar. He may, but I confess I never can perceive wit where I see malice.
"Lady S. Fie, Maria, you have the most unpolished way of thinking! It is absolutely impossible to be witty without being a little ill-natured. The malice of a good thing is the barb that makes it stick. I protest now when I say an ill-natured thing, I have not the least malice against the person; and, indeed, it may be of one whom I never saw in my life; for I hate to abuse a friend—but I take it for granted, they all speak as ill-naturedly of me.
"Mar. Then you are, very probably, conscious you deserve it—for my part, I shall only suppose myself ill-spoken of, when I am conscious I deserve it."
"Enter Servant.
"Ser. Mrs. Candor.
"Mar. Well, I'll leave you.