Pantheon into a
greenhouse, and give a fete champetre at Christmas!

_Lady Teazle._--And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because flowers are dear
in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with
me. For my part, I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round,
and that roses grew under our feet!

_Sir Peter._--Oons! madam--if you had been born to this, I shouldn't
wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was
when I married you.

_Lady Teazle._--No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I
should never have married you.

_Sir Peter._--Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler
style--the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle,
when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured
linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth
over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of
your own working.

_Lady Teazle._--Oh, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I
led. My daily occupation to inspect the dairy, superintend the
poultry, make extracts from the family receipt book, and comb my aunt
Deborah's lap-dog.

_Sir Peter._--Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed.

_Lady Teazle._--And then, you know, my evening amusements! To draw
patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up; to play
Pope Joan with the curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck
down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox chase.

_Sir Peter._--I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these
were the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your
coach--_vis-a-vis_--and three powdered footmen before your chair; and,
in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens.
No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double,
behind the butler, on a docked coach horse.

_Lady Teazle._--No--I swear I never did that: I deny the butler and
the coach horse.

_Sir Peter._--This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done
for you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank,--in
short, I have made you my wife.

_Lady Teazle._--Well, then, and there is but one thing more you can
make me to add to the obligation, that is--

_Sir Peter._--My widow, I suppose?

_Lady Teazle._--Hem! hem!

_Sir Peter._--I thank you, madam--but don't flatter yourself, for,
though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never
b