severe.

LADY TEAZLE. In defence of a Friend it is but justice, but here comes
Sir Peter to spoil our Pleasantry.

Enter SIR PETER

SIR PETER. Ladies, your obedient--Mercy on me--here is the whole set!
a character's dead at every word, I suppose.

MRS. CANDOUR. I am rejoiced you are come, Sir Peter--they have been
so censorious and Lady Teazle as bad as any one.

SIR PETER. That must be very distressing to you, Mrs. Candour I dare
swear.

MRS. CANDOUR. O they will allow good Qualities to nobody--not even
good nature to our Friend Mrs. Pursy.

LADY TEAZLE. What, the fat dowager who was at Mrs. Codrille's
[Quadrille's] last Night?

LADY SNEERWELL. Nay--her bulk is her misfortune and when she takes
such Pains to get rid of it you ought not to reflect on her.

MRS. CANDOUR. 'Tis very true, indeed.

LADY TEAZLE. Yes, I know she almost lives on acids and small whey--
laces herself by pulleys and often in the hottest noon of summer
you may see her on a little squat Pony, with her hair plaited up