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Lady Hon. Yes, if you do but marry a man you don't
Cec. You are right then, indeed, to recommend to me my Lord Derford.
Lady Hon. O yes, he will inake the prettiest husband in the world ; you may, fly about yourself as wild as a lark, and keep him the whole time as tame as a jackdaw. And tho' lie may complain of you to your friends, he will never have the courage to find fault to your face. But as to Mortimer, you will not be able to govern him as long as you live ; for the moment you have put him upon the fret, you will fall into the dumps yourself, hold out your hand to him and losing the opportunity of gaining some material point, make up with him at the first soft word,
Cec. You think, then, the quarrel more amusing than the reconciliation.
Lady Hon. O, a thousand times ! for while you are quarreling, you may say any thing and demand any thing, but when you are reconciled, you ought to behave pretty, and seem contented.
Cec. If any gentleman has any pretensions to your ladyship, he must be made very happy indeed to hear your principles.
Lady Hon. O, it would not signify at all ; for one's fathers and uncles and such people always make connexions for one ; and not a soul thinks of our principles till they find them out by our conduct; and nobody can possibly find them out till we are married, for they give us no power beforehand. The men know nothing of us in the world while We are single, but how we can dance a minuet or play a lesson upon the harpsicord.
Dei. And what else need a young lady of rank desire to be known for? Your Ladyship surely would not have her degrade herself by studying like an artist or professor.
Lady Hon. O, no Sir, I would not have her study at all ; it's mighty well for children ; but really after sixteen, and when one is come out, one has quite fatigue enough in dressing and going to public places and ordering new things, without all the torment of first and second position, and E upon the first line, and F upon the first space.
Del. But pardon me, Madam, for hinting that a young lady of condition, who has a proper sense of her dignity, cannot be seen too rarely or known too little.
Lady Hon. O, but I hate dignity for it is the dullest thing in the world ; I haye always thought, Sir, it was owing to that you was so little amusing-really I beg your pardon, Sir, I meant to say so little talkative.
Del. I can easily believe your Ladyship spoke hastily :for it will hardly be supposed that a person of my family came into the world for the purpose of amusing it.
Lady Hon. O no, Sir, nobody, I am sure, ever knew you to have such a thought. [Turning to Cecilia, with a low voice]- You cannot imagin, my dear Mrs. Mortimer, how I detest this old cousin of mine ! Now, pray tell me honestly, if you don't hate him yourself.
Cec. I hope, Madam, you have no reason to hate him.
Lady Hon. La, how you are always upon your guard ! If I were half as cautious, I should die of the vapors in a month. The only thing that keeps me at all alive, is now and then making people angry; for the folks at our house let me go out so seldom, and then send me with such stupid company, that giving them a little torment is really the only entertainment I have. 0-but I had almost forgot to tell you a most delightful thing!
Cec. What is it?
Lady Hon. Why you must know I have the greatest hopes in the world that my father will quarrel with old Mr. Delvill!
Cec. And is that such a delightful thing?
Lady Hon. O yes : I have lived upon the very idea this fortnight ; for then you know, they'd both be in a passion, and I shall see which of them looks frightfullest.
Mortimer Del. When lady Honoria talks aside, I always suspect some mischief.
Lady Hon. No, no, I was only congratulating Mrs. Mortimer about her marriage. Tho really, upon second thoughts, I don't know but I cught to condole with her, for I have long been convinced she has a prodigious antipathy to you. I saw it the whole time I was at Delvill Castle, where she used to change color at the very sound of your name ; a symptoir I never perceived when I asked to her of Lord Derford, who would certainly have made her a thousand times better husband.
Del. If you mean on account of his title, lady Honoria, your ladyship must be strangely forgetful of the connex. ions of your family · for Mortimer after the death of
his uncle, and myself, must inevitably inherit a title far more honorable, than any which can be offered by a new sprung up family, like my Lord Ernolf's.
Lady Hon. Yes, sir ; but then you know she would have kept her estate, which would have been a vastly better thing than an old pedigree of new relations. Besides, I don't find that any body cares for the noble blood of the Delvill's but themselves; and if she had kept her fortune, every body, I fancy, would have cared for that.
Del. Every body, then, must be highly mercenary andignoble, or the blood of an ancient and honorable house would be thought contaminated by the most distant hint of so de. grading a comparison.
Lady Hon. Dear Sir, what should we all do with birth, if it was not for wealth? It would neither take us to Ranclagh nor the Opera ; nor buy us caps nor wigs, nor supply us with dinners nor boquets.
Del. Caps and wigs, dinners and boquets! Your Ladyship’s estimate of wealth is extremely ninute indeed!
Lady Hon. Why you know, Sir, as to caps and wigs, they are very serious things, for we should look mighty droll figures to go about bareheaded ; and as to dinners, how would the Delvill's have lasted all these thousand centuries, if they had disdained eating them ?
Del. Whatever may be your Ladyship's satisfaction in deprecating a house that has the honor of being nearly allied to your own, you will not, I hope, at least instruct this lady (turning to Cecilia] to imbibe a similar contempt of its antiquity and dignity. Mor. Del. This lady, by becoming one of it, will
of it, will at least secure us from the danger that such contempt will spread further.
Cec. Let me be only as secure from exciting, as I am from feeling contempt, and I can wish no more.
Dr. Lys. Good and excellent young lady ; the first of blessings indeed is yours in the temperance of your own mind. When you began your career in life, you appeared to us short sighted mortals, to possess more than your
share of good things. Such a union of riches, beauty, independence, talents, education, virtue, seemed a monopoly to raise general envy and discontent ; but mark with what exactress the good and the bad is ever balanced :You have had a thousand sorrows to which those wito
looked up to you, have been total strangers, and which balance all your advantages for happiness. There is a level. ing principle in the world, at war with pre-eminence, which finally puts us all upon a footing.
Del. Not quite ; I think an ancient and respectable fami
Lady Hon. With an handsome income and high life, gives me a mighty chance for happiness. Don't you think 50, Mortimer?
Mor. Del. I do, indeed ; but add, a connexion with an a. iņiable woman, and I think the chances for happiness are more than doubled.
Dr. Lys. Right, Mortimer ; we are well agreed.
DIRECTIONS VOW TO SPEND OUR TIME. 1.
TE all of us complain of the shortness of time, saith
Seneca, and yet have much more than we know what to do with. Our lives, says he, sre spent either in doing nothing at all, or in doing nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought to do : we are always complaining our days are few, and acting as though there would be no end to them. That noble philosopher has described our inconsistency with ourselves in this particular, by all those various turns of expression and thought which are particular to his writings.
2. I often consider mankind as wholly inconsistent with itself in a point that bears some affinity to the former. Tho' we seem grieved at the shortness of life in general, we are wishing every period of it at an end. The minor longs to be at age, then to be a man of business, then to make up an estate, then to arrive at honors, then to retire. Thus, altho' the whole of life is allowed by every one to be short, the several divisions of it appear long and tedious.
3. We are for lengthening our span in general, but would faiu contract the parts of which it is composed.The usurer would be very well satisfied to have all the time annihilated that lies between the present moment and the next quarter day. The politician would be contented to lose three years in his life, could he place things in the posture which he fancies they will stand in after such a revolu. tion of time.
4. The lover would be glad to strike out of his existence all the moments that are to pass away before the happy meeting. Thus, as fast as our time rums, we should be very glad in most parts of our lives, that it should run much faster than it does. Several hours of the day hang upon our hands, nay we wish away whole years; and travel through time as through a country filled with many wild and empty wastes, which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at those several little settlements or imaginary points of rest, which are dispersed up and down it.
5. If we may divide the life of most men into twenty parts, we shall find that at least nineteen of them are mere gaps and chasms, which are neither filled with pleasure not business. I do not, however, include in this calculation, the life of those only who are in a perpetual hurry of affairs, but of those also who are not always cagaged in scenes of action; and I hope I shall not do an unacceptable piece of service to these persons, if I point out to them certain methock for the filling up their empty spaces of life. The method I shall propose to them are as follows :
6. The first is the exercise of virtue, in the most general acceptation of the word. The particular scheme which comprehends the social virtues, may give employment to the most industrious temper, and find a man in business more than the most active station of life. To advise theignorant, relieve the needy, comfort the afflicted, arę duties that fall in our way almost every day of our lives.
7. A man has frequent opportunities of mitigating the kerceness of party ; of doing justice to the character of Hleserving man ; of softening the envious, quieting the an; gry, and rectifying the prejudiced, which are all of them employments suited to a reasonable nature, and bring great satisfaction to the person who can busy himself in them with discretion.
8. There is another kind of virtue that may find emplos. ment for those retired hours, in which we are altogether left to ourselves and destitute of
company and conversations I mean that intercourse and communication which every reasonable creature ought to maintain with the great Author of his being
9. The man who lives under an habitual sense of the divine presence, keeps up a perpetual cheerfulness of tempers and enjoys every moment the satisfaction of thinking himself in company with his dearest and best of