* * * * *
"Sir P. Then, you never had a desire to please me, or add to my happiness?
"Lady T. Sincerely, I never thought about you; did you imagine that age was catching? I think you have been overpaid for all you could bestow on me. Here am I surrounded by half a hundred lovers, not one of whom but would buy a single smile by a thousand such baubles as you grudge me.
"Sir P. Then you wish me dead?
"Lady T. You know I do not, for you have made no settlement on me.
* * * * *
"Sir P. I am but middle-aged.
"Lady T. There's the misfortune; put yourself on, or back, twenty years, and either way I should like you the better.
* * * * *
Yes, sir, and then your behavior too was different; you would dress, and smile, and bow; fly to fetch me anything I wanted; praise every thing I did or said; fatigue your stiff face with an eternal grin; nay, you even committed poetry, and muffled your harsh tones into a lover's whisper to sing it yourself, so that even my mother said you were the smartest old bachelor she ever saw—a billet-doux engrossed on buckram!!!!!! [Footnote: These notes of admiration are in the original, and seem meant to express the surprise of the author at the extravagance of his own joke.]