* Whig ladies patched on one side of the cheek, Tories on the other.


"Married! Heaven forbid! which of my enemies spread so cruel a report?"

"Oh, the report is universal!" and the Lady Hasselton flirted her fan
with the most flattering violence.

"It is false, nevertheless; I cannot afford to buy a wife at present,
for, thanks to jointures and pin-money, these things are all matters of
commerce; and (see how closely civilized life resembles the savage!) the
English, like the Tartar gentleman, obtains his wife only by purchase!
But who is the bride?"

"The Duke of Newcastle's rich daughter, Lady Henrietta Pelham."

"What, Harley's object of ambition!* Faith, Madam, the report is not so
cruel as I thought for!"


* Lord Bolingbroke tells us that it was the main end of Harley's
administration to marry his son to this lady. Thus is the fate of
nations a bundle made up of a thousand little private schemes.


"Oh, you fop!--but is it not true?"

"By my honour, I fear not; my rivals are too numerous and too powerful.
Look now, yonder! how they already flock around the illustrious
heiress; note those smiles and simpers. Is it not pretty to see those