LADY TEAZLE. Abominable!

SIR PETER. Yes Madam--and what were your evening amusements?
to draw Patterns for Ruffles, which you hadn't the materials to make--
play Pope Joan with the Curate--to read a sermon to your Aunt--
or be stuck down to an old Spinet to strum your father to sleep
after a Fox Chase.

LADY TEAZLE. Scandalous--Sir Peter not a word of it true--

SIR PETER. Yes, Madam--These were the recreations I took you from--
and now--no one more extravagantly in the Fashion--Every Fopery
adopted--a head-dress to o'er top Lady Pagoda with feathers pendant
horizontal and perpendicular--you forget[,] Lady Teazle--when a little
wired gauze with a few Beads made you a fly Cap not much bigger than
a blew-bottle, and your Hair was comb'd smooth over a Roll--

LADY TEAZLE. Shocking! horrible Roll!!

SIR PETER. But now--you must have your coach--Vis-a-vis, and three
powder'd Footmen before your Chair--and in the summer a pair of
white cobs to draw you to Kensington Gardens--no recollection when y
ou were content to ride double, behind the Butler, on a docked
Coach-Horse?

LADY TEAZLE. Horrid!--I swear I never did.

SIR PETER. This, madam, was your situation--and what have I not done
for you? I have made you woman of Fashion of Fortune of Rank--
in short I have made you my wife.