School for scandal ...

Preface

Sheridan's Life. Richard Brinsley Sheridan was the grandson of Swift's friend, the witty Dr. Thomas Sheridan, and son of Thomas Sheridan, the actor, who wrote Swift's life. His mother, Frances Sheridan, wrote clever plays, and a successful novel, " The History of Miss Sidney Biddulph." Born in Dublin, on the 30th of October, 1751, Sheridan was sent to Harrow, where he was a favourite with boys and masters, though he was far from industrious. At eighteen he returned to his father, and in company with a friend, Halked, translated Aristsenetus, and wrote a farce in the form of a rehearsal. In 1770 the family moved to Bath, where Sheridan soon fell in love with Eliza Ann Linley, daughter of a popular singer. The lady's voice and beauty caused him to have many rivals;

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but in 1772 they eloped, and were secretly married near Calais. This action involved the youthful husband in duels and other troubles, but in 1773 Miss Linley's father withdrew his opposition, and the couple were publicly married. It is not known that they had any means, except £3,000 left to Miss Linley by an elderly lover, and Sheridan would not allow his wife to earn money by singing; but in a few months they took a house in Orchard Street, Portman Square, and managed to receive company freely.

In January, 1775, at the age of twentythree, Sheridan produced, at Covent Garden, his first comedy, The Rivals, which met with complete success, though on the first night failure seemed probable. Later in the year Sheridan brought out a farce, St. Patrick's Day, and a comic opera, The Duenna, which was acted seventy-five nights during the season. Garrick took great interest in the young dramatist's brilliant success, and, on his retirement in 1776,

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Sheridan and his friend bought Garrick's share in Drury Lane Theatre. The new manager disappointed expectations by producing nothing fresh except A Trip to Scarborough (February, 1777), and that only an adaptation of Vanbrugh's The Relapse ; but the delay was made up for in May, when The School for Scandal was first acted. Next year Sheridan and others bought the remaining half of the share in Drury Lane, and 1779 saw the production of what was practically Sheridan's last play, The Critic ; or, A Tragedy Rehearsal, though he afterwards brought out Pizarro, a translation or adaptation from Kotzebue. In 1780 he was elected Member of Parliament for Stafford, and at the age of twenty-nine began a new and brilliant career as statesman and orator. The impeachment of Warren Hastings gave him his greatest opportunity, when he delivered his famous speeches respecting Hastings's conduct towards the princesses of Oude ; but before long financial and other troubles began to 3 weigh heavily upon him, and, unfortunately, he fell under the influence of the Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.), whose cause he championed in the House and elsewhere. In 1809 Drury Lane Theatre, then recently rebuilt, was burned down, and when Sheridan lost his seat in Parliament, he must have felt that he had nothing to hope for. He was no longer exempt even from arrest for debt, and, with the exception of three or four faithful friends, none seemed to care what became of the once brilliant writer and speaker. When the end came (July 7, 1816), Sheridan was hard pressed by creditors, though his debts appear not to have exceeded £4,000, and the Regent and others sent money at the last moment, on hearing of his position. A few days later his body was buried in Westminster Abbey, in the presence of princes and noblemen.

History of the Play. The School for Scandal was produced at Drury Lane 4

Preface

K.LL

Theatre on the 8th of May, 1777. On the night before its first appearance, Sheridan was told that the necessary license had been refused, on the ground that Moses, the Jew, was believed to be a satire on Hopkins, Wilkes's opponent in the contest for the office of City Chamberlain. Sheridan, however, got over the difficulty after an interview with Lord Hertford, the Lord Chamberlain. There is a well-known story of the author's procrastination. The actors were kept waiting to the last for the final scenes; and on the concluding leaf Sheridan wrote, " Finished at last, thank God!" to which the prompter, Hawkins, added, "Amen!" It may be that Sheridan was revising the closing scenes up to the last; but, as has been pointed out, they must have been written before then, for the play had been submitted for license, and had been read by Garrick. We know, too, that the piece was far from being a work produced in a moment of inspiration. The brilliance and neatness of the workmanship point to painful care, and Moore published voluminous extracts from Sheridan's papers, which prove that the scenes were often rewritten more than once, and that the play in the form in which we have it was the result of many experiments. In fact, Sheridan had in his mind two distinct plots : one, the School for Scandal proper, called The Slanderers in one draft ; the other, the story of the old man and his young wife, and the two brothers, first called Plausible and Pliant. In an early sketch Sir Peter appears as Solomon Teazle, a retired tradesman. At some point in his labours, it occurred to Sheridan to weld together the two plots, a feat which he accomplished with such skill that the spectator is never struck by the undoubted fact that the scandal scenes have very little connection with the rest of the play, and hardly help on the action at all.

The School for Scandal was at once a brilliant success. It ran for twenty nights, until the end of the season, and was acted 6

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sixty-five times in the following season. Afterwards, for some years, it was acted regularly three nights a week, and " damped the new pieces ; " and it has retained its popularity for over a century. The author was greatly helped by the original actors. Horace Walpole and Charles Lamb both speak in the highest terms of the whole cast. " Amid the mortifying circumstances attendant upon growing old," said Lamb, " it was something to have seen The School for Scandal in its glory." Sheridan never published an authorised edition of the play, and when pressed to revise it for the press, said that he had been nineteen years endeavouring to satisfy himself with the style of the piece, and had not succeeded. The School for Scandal was printed at Dublin from a copy which Sheridan sent to his sister for disposal to her own advantage to the manager of the Dublin Theatre ; but the early editions contain many variations. The most important of modern editions is " Sheridan's Comedies " (that is, The Rivals 7

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and The School for Scandal), edited by Mr. Brander Matthews in 1885. Mr. Fraser Rae, in his recent " Life of Sheridan," has announced the existence in manuscript of two acts of the play, with corrections by Sheridan, presumably with a view to publication.

Sheridan's Position in the History of the Drama. Sheridan's comedies are more akin to the works of the so-called Restoration dramatists than to those of his immediate predecessors. The revolt against the immorality of the stage at the end of the seventeenth century had paved the way for the comedy of sentiment introduced by Steele and Cibber ; but after half a century the public had wearied of sentiment, though Sheridan himself introduced a specimen of it in the parts of Faulkland and Julia in The Rivals. On the other hand, Farquhar and Vanbrugh and Congreve were too coarse for the public taste, and were tolerated only in emasculated versions by 8

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Garrick, Sheridan himself, and others. Cumberland, Murphy, and the Colmans were, with the exception of Goldsmith, Sheridan's chief rivals in comedy, and Foote and Garrick in farce. It was Sheridan's glory to write comedy as witty as Congreve's, but wholly free from the taint of immorality.

Unfortunately, though over a century has passed since the production of The School for Scandal, no play has been written in the meantime which can in any way rival it in brilliance.

Sheridan's Indebtedness to his Predecessors. The writer of a contemporary satire, The Critick Anticipated, makes Young Psalter, or Sheridan, attribute the popularity of the School for Scandal and the Duenna to the fact that " there 's contained in those two pieces the plot, wit, incidents, language, and humour of all the plays, operas, farces, and pantomimes that ever were known in the English language — ay, 9 or in the Latin language either — as the Eunuch of Terence can testify. Mercy on me ! what a laborious task it is to compile good plays and farces ! " From then until now, writers have been busy in discovering plagiarisms in Sheridan's works, especially in The School for Scandal. One biographer said that this play was in reality written by a young lady, who had sent it to Sheridan, as manager of the theatre, and had shortly afterwards died of decline ; but, unfortunately for the young lady's claims, the manuscripts of the play, in various stages of incompleteness, are, as we have seen, in existence. Others have contented themselves with pointing to the resemblances between Sheridan's characters and those of earlier writers. Joseph and Charles Surface have been compared with Tom Jones and Blifil, and a parallel for the incident of the screen has been discovered, absurdly enough, in the fall of the rug in Molly Seagrim's room. Joseph Surface was a hypocrite, as were Blifil and Moliere's 10

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Tartuffe, and the Malvil of Murphy's Know Your Own Mind, to whom Hazlitt alludes ; but there the resemblance ceases. Dramatists or novelists must necessarily deal with general types of character, but they can depict the infinite variations which are found in real life. If this is done, there is no plagiarism. It is the same with incidents.

Prototypes for the scandal-mongering may be found in Moliere's Misanthrope, in Congreve's Double Dealer, and in Steele's Funeral; and Sir Oliver's return and visit to Charles Surface may be compared with a scene in Mrs. Frances Sheridan's novel, " Miss Sidney Biddulph," or, indeed, with scenes in not a few other novels or plays. But it is not plagiarism to make use of conceptions which have occurred to others, so long as the setting is new, and the character or incident is improved. If Sheridan — like Shakespeare, though to a much less degree — made use of the work of others as a foundation, the " splendid and more n valuable setting," as Hazlitt says, "was Sheridan's ; " he gave interest, life, and action, or, in other words, its dramatic being, to the cruder ideas which he found ready to his hand.

DRAMATIS PERSONS

AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY LANE THEATRE IN 1777

Sir Peter Teazle . . . Mr. King.

Sir Oliver Surface . . Mr. Yates.

Sir Harry Bumper . . Mr. Gawdry.

Sir Benjamin Backbite . Mr. Dodd.

Joseph Surface . . . Mr. Palmer.

Charles Surface . . . Mr. Smith.

Careless ...... Mr. Farren.

Snake Mr. Packer.

Crdbtree Mr. Parsons.

Rowley . . . . - . . Mr. Aickin.

Moses ....... Mr. Baddeley.

Trip Mr. Lamash.

Lady Teazle .... Mrs. Abington.

Lady Sneerwell . . .' Miss Sherry.

Mrs. Candour . . . . Miss Pope.

Maria Miss P. Hopkins.

Gentlemen, Maid, and Servants.

Scene : London. 14

A Portrait

ADDRESSED TO MRS. CREWE, WITH THE COMEDY OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCAN- DAL.

Tell me, ye prim adepts in Scandal's

school, Who rail by precept, and detract by

rule, Lives there no character, so tried, so

known, So decked with grace, and so unlike

your own, That even you assist her fame to raise, Approve by envy, and by silence praise ! Attend ! — a model shall attract your

view — Daughters of calumny, I summon you !

You shall decide if this a portrait

prove, Or fond creation of the Muse and

Love. 10

Attend, ye virgin critics, shrewd and

sage, Ye matron censors of this childish age, Whose peering eye and wrinkled front

declare A fixed antipathy to young and fair ; By cunning, cautious; or by nature,

cold, In maiden madness, virulently bold ! — Attend, ye skilled to coin the precious

exact, Omit no circumstance, except the

fact ! — 20

Attend, all ye who boast, — or old or

young, —

A Portrait £#

The living libel of a slanderous tongue ! So shall my theme as far contrasted

be, As saints by fiends, or hymns by calumny.

Come, gentle Amoret (for ? neath that

name In worthier verse is sung thy beauty's

fame) ; Come — for but thee who seeks the

Muse ? and while Celestial blushes check thy conscious

smile, With timid grace, and hesitating eye, The perfect model, which I boast,

supply : — 30

Vain Muse ! couldst thou the humblest

sketch create Of her, or slightest charm couldst

imitate — Could thy blest strain in kindred

colours trace

The faintest wonder of her form and

face — Poets would study the immortal line, And Reynolds own his art subdued by

thine ; That art, which well might added lustre

give To Nature's best, and Heaven's superlative: On Granby's cheek might bid new

glories rise, Or point a purer beam from Devon's

eyes ! 40

Hard is the task to shape that beauty's

praise, Whose judgment scorns the homage

flattery pays !

But praising Amoret we cannot err, No tongue o'ervalues Heaven, or flatters

her!

Yet she by Fate's perverseness — she

alone

A Portraits

Would doubt our truth, nor deem such praise her own.

Simple from taste, and not from carelessness ;

Discreet in gesture, in deportment mild,

Not stiff with prudence, nor uncouthly wild : 50

No state has Amoret ; no studied mien ;

She frowns no goddess, and she moves no queen.

The softer charm that in her manner lies

Is framed to captivate, yet not surprise ;

It justly suits the expression of her face, —

? Tis less than dignity, and more than grace !

On her pure cheek the native hue is such,

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That, formed by Heaven to be admired

so much, The hand divine, with a less partial care, Might well have fixed a fainter crimson there, 60 And bade the gentle inmate of her

breast — Inshrined Modesty — supply the rest. But who the peril of her lips shall

paint ?

Strip them of smiles — still, still all

words are faint.

But moving Love himself appears to

teach Their action, though denied to rule her

speech ; And thou who seest her speak, and dost

not hear, Mourn not her distant accents ? scape

thine ear; Viewing those lips, thou still may'st

make pretence

A Portrait

^jjt.

To judge of what she says, and swear 'tis sense : 70

Clothed with such grace, with such expression fraught,

They move in meaning, and they pause in thought !

But dost thou farther watch, with charmed surprise,

The mild irresolution of her eyes,

Curious to mark how frequent they repose,

In brief eclipse and momentary close —

Ah ! seest thou not an ambushed Cupid there,

Too timorous of his charge, with jealous care

Too full, too fatal else, for mortal sight ? 80

Nor yet, such pleasing vengeance fond to meet,

What though her peaceful breast should

ne'er allow Subduing frowns to arm her altered

brow, By Love, I swear, and by his gentle

wiles, More fatal still the mercy of her

smiles !

all Of bright or fair that can to woman

fall, The height of vanity might well be

thought 89

Prerogative in her, and Nature's fault. Yet gentle Amoret, in mind supreme As well as charms, rejects the vainer

theme ; And, half mistrustful of her beauty's

store,

A Portrait H£

She barbs with wit those darts too keen

before : — Kead in all knowledge that her sex

should reach, Though Greville, or the Muse, should

deign to teach, Fond to improve, nor timorous to discern How far it is a woman's grace to

learn ; In Millar's dialect she would not prove Apollo's priestess, but Apollo's love, Graced by those signs which truth

delights to own, 101

The timid blush, and mild submitted

tone: Whate'er she says, though sense appear

doubt ; Decked with that charm, how lovely

wit appears,

How graceful science, when that robe

she wears !

Such too her talent s, and her bent of

mind, As speak a sprightly heart by thought

refined : A taste for mirth, by contemplation

schooled, A turn for ridicule, by candour

ruled, 110

A scorn of folly, which she tries to

hide; An awe of talent, which she owns with

pride !

Peace, idle Muse ! no more thy strain

prolong, But yield a theme, thy warmest praises

wrong ; Just to her merit, though thou canst

not raise Thy feeble verse, behold th' acknowledged praise

A Portrait^

Has spread conviction through the envious train,

And cast a fatal gloom o'er Scandal's reign !

And lo ! each pallid hag, with blistered tongue,

Mutters assent to all thy zeal has sung — 120

Owns all the colours just — the outline true ;

Thee my inspirer, and my model — Crewe !

PEOLOGUE.

WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICK.

A School for Scandal! tell me, I beseech you, Needs there a school this modish art

to teach you ?

No need of lessons now, the knowing

think ; We might as well be taught to eat and

drink.

Caused by a dearth of scandal, should

the vapours Distress our fair ones — let them read

the papers; Their powerful mixtures such disorders

hit;

Crave what you will — there ? s quantum

sufficit.

" Lord ! " cries my Lady Wormwood

(who loves tattle, And puts much salt and pepper in her

prattle), 10

Just risen at noon, all night at cards

when threshing Strong tea and scandal — " Bless me,

how refreshing !

Give me the papers, Lisp — how bold

and free ! [Sips.

Last night Lord L. [Sips'] was caught

with Lady D.

For aching heads what charming sal

volatile ! [Sips.

Lf Mrs. B. will still continue flirting, We hope she } ll draw, or we HI undraw

the curtain.

Fine satire, poz — in public all abuse it, But, by ourselves [Sips'], our praise we

can't refuse it. 28

Now, Lisp, read you — there, at that

dash and star : " 20

" Yes, ma'am - — A certain lord had best

beware, Who lives not twenty miles from Gros-

venor Square; For, should he Lady W, find willing, Wormwood is bitter " " Oh ! that ? s

me ! the villain !

Throw it behind the fire, and never more Let that vile paper come within my

door."

Thus at our friends we laugh, who feel

the dart ; To reach our feelings, we ourselves

must smart.

Is our young bard so young, to think

that he Can stop the full spring-tide of calumny ? 30 Knows he the world so little, and its

trade ?

Alas! the devil's sooner raised than

laid.

So strong, so swift, the monster there ? s

no gagging : Cut scandal's head off, still the tongue

is wagging.

Proud of your smiles once lavishly bestowed, Again our young Don Quixote takes

the road : To show his gratitude he draws his

pen, And seeks this hydra, Scandal, in his

den.

For your applause all perils he would

through — He '11 fight — that 's write — a cava-

liero true, 40

Till every drop of blood — that *s ink

— is spilt for you.

ACT FIEST.

Scene I. Lady SneerweWs Dressing-room

Lady Sneerwell discovered at her toilet; Snake drinking chocolate.

Lady Sneer. The paragraphs, you say, Mr. Snake, were all inserted ?

Snake. They were, madam ; and, as I copied them myself in a feigned hand, there can be no suspicion whence they came.

Lady Sneer. Did you circulate the report of Lady Brittle's intrigue with Captain Boastall?

Snake. That 's in as fine a train as your ladyship could wish. In the common course of things, I think it must reach Mrs. Clackitt's ears within four- 3 1

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and-twenty hours ; and then, you know, the business is as good as done. 12

Lady Sneer. Why, truly, Mrs. Clackitt has a very pretty talent, and a great deal of industry.

Snake. True, madam, and has been tolerably successful in her day. To my knowledge, she has been the cause of six matches being broken off, and three sons being disinherited ; of four forced elopements, and as many close confinements ; nine separate maintenances, and two divorces. Nay, I have more than once traced her causing a tete-a-tete in the Town and Country Magazine^ when the parties, perhaps, had never seen each other's face before in the course of their lives.

Lady Sneer. She certainly has talents, but her manner is gross. 28

Snake. ? Tis very true. She generally designs well, has a free tongue and a 3 2

The School for Scandal Heboid invention ; but her colouring is too dark, and her outlines often extravagant. She wants that delicacy of tint, and mellowness of sneer, which distinguish your ladyship's scandal.

Lady Sneer. You are partial, Snake.

Snake. Not in the least ; everybody allows that Lady Sneerwell can do more with a word or look than many can with the most laboured detail, even when they happen to have a little truth on their side to support it. 40

Lady Sneer. Yes, my dear Snake; and I am no hypocrite to deny the satisfaction I reap from the success of my efforts. Wounded myself, in the early part of my life, by the envenomed tongue of slander, I confess I have since known no pleasure equal to the reducing others to the level of my own reputation.

Snake. Nothing can be more natural. 33

But, Lady Sneerwell, there is one affair in which yon have lately employed me, wherein, I confess, I am at a loss to guess your motives. 51

Lady Sneer, I conceive you mean with respect to my neighbour, Sir Peter Teazle, and his family ?

Snake. I do. Here are two young men, to whom Sir Peter has acted as a kind of guardian since their father's death; the eldest possessing the most amiable character, and universally well spoken of — the youngest, the most dissipated and extravagant young fellow in the kingdom, without friends or character: the former an avowed admirer of your ladyship, and apparently your favourite; the latter attached to Maria, Sir Peter's ward, and confessedly beloved by her. Now, on the face of these circumstances, it is utterly unaccountable to me, why you, the widow 34

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of a city knight, with a good jointure, should not close with the passion of a man of such character and expectations as Mr. Surface; and more so why you should be so uncommonly earnest to destroy the mutual attachment subsisting between his brother Charles and Maria. 73

Lady Sneer. Then, at once to unravel this mystery, I must inform you that love has no share whatever in the intercourse between Mr. Surface and me.

Snake. No !

Lady Sneer. His real attachment is to Maria, or her fortune; but, finding in his brother a favoured rival, he has been obliged to mask his pretensions, and profit by my assistance. 82

Snake. Yet still I am more puzzled why you should interest yourself in his success.

Lady Sneer. Heavens ! how dull you are ! Cannot you surmise the weakness which I hitherto, through shame, have concealed even from you? Must I confess that Charles — that libertine, that extravagant, that bankrupt in fortune and reputation — that he it is for whom I am thus anxious and malicious, and to gain whom I would sacrifice everything ? 92

Snake. Now, indeed, your conduct appears consistent : but how came you and Mr. Surface so confidential ?

Lady Sneer. For our mutual interest. I have found him out a long time since. I know him to be artful, selfish, and malicious — in short, a sentimental knave ; while with Sir Peter, and indeed with all his acquaintance, he passes for a youthful miracle of prudence, good sense, and benevolence. 102

Snake. Yes ; yet Sir Peter vows he has not his equal in England; and, above all, he praises him as a man of sentiment.

Lady Sneer. True; and with the assistance of his sentiment and hypocrisy he has brought Sir Peter entirely into his interest with regard to Maria ; while poor Charles has no friend in the house — though, I fear, he has a powerful one in Maria's heart, against whom we must direct our schemes. 112

Enter Servant.

Ser. Mr. Surface.

Lady Sneer. Show him up. [Exit Servant] He generally calls about this time. I don't wonder at people giving him to me for a lover.

Enter Joseph Surface.

Jos. Surf. My dear Lady Sneerwell, 37 how do you do to-day? Mr. Snake, your most obedient. 118

Lady Sneer. Snake has just been rallying me on our mutual attachment, but I have informed him of our real views. You know how useful he has been to us ; and, believe me, the confidence is not ill-placed.

Jos. Surf. Madam, it is impossible for me to suspect a man of Mr. Snake's sensibility and discernment.

Lady Sneer. Well, well, no compliments now; but tell me when you saw your mistress, Maria — or, what is more material to me, your brother. 129

Jos. Surf. I have not seen either since I left you ; but I can inform you that they never meet. Some of your stories have taken a good effect on Maria. 133

Lady Sneer. Ah, my dear Snake! the merit of this belongs to you. 38

But do your brother's distresses increase ?

Jos. Surf. Every hour. I am told he has had another execution in the house yesterday. In short, his dissipation and extravagance exceed anything I have ever heard of. 140

Lady Sneer. Poor Charles !

Jos. Surf. True, madam; notwithstanding his vices, one can't help feeling for him. Poor Charles ! I 'm sure I. wish it were in my power to be of any essential service to him ; for the man who does not share in the distresses of a brother, even though merited by his own misconduct, deserves —

Lady Sneer. Lud ! you are going to be moral, and forget that you are among friends. 150

Jos. Surf Egad, that >s true ! I '11 keep that sentiment till I see Sir Peter. However, it is certainly a charity to 39 rescue Maria from such a libertine, who, if he is to be reclaimed, can be so only by a person of your ladyship's superior accomplishments and understanding.

Snake, I believe, Lady Sneerwell, here 's company coming: I '11 go and copy the letter I mentioned to you. Mr. Surface, your most obedient. 159

Jos. Surf. Sir, your very devoted. — [Exit Snake] Lady Sneerwell, I am very sorry you have put any farther confidence in that fellow.

Lady Sneer. Why so?

Jos. Surf. I have lately detected him in frequent conference with old Howley, who was formerly my father's steward, and has never, you know, been a friend of mine.

Lady Sneer. And do you think he would betray us ?

Jos. Surf Nothing more likely : take 40 my word for ? t, Lady Sneerwell, that fellow hasn't virtue enough to be faithful even to his own villany. Ah, Maria ! 172

Enter Maria.

Lady Sneer, Maria, my dear, how do you do? What's the matter?

Mar. Oh! there ? s that disagreeable lover of mine, Sir Benjamin Backbite, has just called at my guardian's, with his odious uncle, Crabtree ; so I slipped out, and ran hither to avoid them.

Lady Sneer. Is that all ?

Jos. Surf. If my brother Charles had been of the party, madam, perhaps you would not have been so much alarmed. 182

Lady Sneer. Nay, now you are

severe; for I dare swear the truth of

the matter is, Maria heard you were

here. But, my dear, what has Sir

Benjamin done, that you should avoid him so?

Mar. Oh, he has done nothing — but 'tis for what he has said : his conversation is a perpetual libel on all his acquaintance.

Jos. Surf. Ay, and the worst of it is, there is no advantage in not knowing him; for he ? 11 abuse a stranger just as soon as his best friend: and his uncle >s as bad. 193

Lady Sneer. Nay, but we should make allowance; Sir Benjamin is a wit and a poet.

Mar. For my part, I own, madam, wit loses its respect with me, when I see it in company with malice. What do you think, Mr. Surface ?

Jos. Sur. Certainly, madam ; to smile at the jest which plants a thorn in another's breast is to become a principal in the mischief. 201 42

Lady Sneer. Psha ! there 's no possibility of being witty without a little ill nature : the malice of a good thing is the barb that makes it stick. What 's your opinion, Mr. Surface ?

Jos. Surf. To be sure, madam ; that conversation, where the spirit of raillery is suppressed, will ever appear tedious and insipid.