SCENE I.A Gallery in Lady Bountifuls House
Enter Mrs. Sullen and Dorinda, meeting.
Dor. Morrow, my dear sister; are you for church this morning?
Mrs. Sul. Anywhere to pray; for Heaven alone can help me. But I think, Dorinda, theres no form of prayer in the liturgy against bad husbands.
Dor. But theres a form of law in Doctors-Commons; and I swear, sister Sullen, rather than see you thus continually discontented. I would advise you to apply to that: for besides the part that I bear in your vexatious broils, as being sister to the husband, and friend to the wife, your example gives me such an impression of matrimony, that I shall be apt to condemn my person to a long vacation all its life. But supposing, madam, that you brought it to a case of separation, what can you urge against your husband? My brother is, first, the most constant man alive.
Mrs. Sul. The most constant husband, I grant ye.
Dor. He never sleeps from you.
Mrs. Sul. No, he always sleeps with me.
Dor. He allows you a maintenance suitable to your quality.
Mrs. Sul. A maintenance! do you take me, madam, for an hospital child, that I must sit down, and bless my benefactors for meat, drink, and clothes? As I take it, madam, I brought your brother ten thousand pounds, out of which I might expect some pretty things, called pleasures.
Dor. You share in all the pleasures that the country affords.
Mrs. Sul. Country pleasures! racks and torments! Dost think, child, that my limbs were made for leaping of ditches, and clambering over stiles? or that my parents, wisely foreseeing my future happiness in country pleasures, had early instructed me in rural accomplishments of drinking fat ale, playing at whisk, and smoking tobacco with my husband? or of spreading of plasters, brewing of diet-drinks, and stilling rosemary-water, with the good old gentlewoman my mother-in-law?
Dor. Im sorry, madam, that it is not more in our power to divert you; I could wish, indeed, that our entertainments were a little more polite, or your taste a little less refined. But, pray, madam, how came the poets and philosophers, that laboured so much in hunting after pleasure, to place it at last in a country life?
Mrs. Sul. Because they wanted money, child, to find out the pleasures of the town. Did you ever see a poet or philosopher worth ten thousand pounds? if you can show me such a man, Ill lay you fifty pounds youll find him somewhere within the weekly bills. Not that I disapprove rural pleasures, as the poets have painted them; in their landscape, every Phillis has her Corydon, every murmuring stream, and every flowery mead, gives fresh alarms to love. Besides, youll find, that their couples were never married:but yonder I see my Corydon, and a sweet swain it is, Heaven knows! Come, Dorinda, dont be angry, hes my husband, and your brother; and, between both, is he not a sad brute?
Dor. I have nothing to say to your part of him, youre the best judge.
Mrs. Sul. O sister, sister! if ever you marry, beware of a sullen, silent sot, one thats always musing, but never thinks. Theres some diversion in a talking blockhead; and since a woman must wear chains, I would have the pleasure of hearing em rattle a little. Now you shall see, but take this by the way. He came home this morning at his usual hour of four, wakened me out of a sweet dream of something else, by tumbling over the tea-table, which he broke all to pieces; after his man and he had rolled about the room, like sick passengers in a storm, he comes flounce into bed, dead as a salmon into a fishmongers
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