Lady Brilliant, and Polly What d'ye-call-it, Lord Squander's kept miſtreſs.
Fanny. But what are your wedding-cloaths, ſiſter?
Miſs Sterl. Oh, white and ſilver to be ſure, you know.—I bought them at Sir Joſeph Luteſtring's, and ſat above an hour in the parlour behind the ſhop, conſulting Lady Luteſtring about gold and ſilver ſtuffs, on purpoſe to mortify her.
Fanny. Fie, ſiſter! how could you be ſo abominably provoking?
Miſs Sterl. Oh, I have no patience with the pride of your city-knights' ladies.—Did you never obſerve the airs of Lady Luteſtring dreſt in the richeſt brocade out of her huſband's ſhop, playing crown-whiſt at Haberdaſher's-Hall?—While the civil ſmirking Sir Joſeph, with a ſmug wig trimmed round his broad face as cloſe as a new-cut yew-hedge, and his ſhoes ſo black that they ſhine again, ſtands all day in his ſhop, faſtened to his counter like a bad ſhilling?
Fanny. Indeed, indeed, ſiſter, this is too much—If you talk at this rate, you will be abſolutely a bye-word in the city—You muſt never venture on the inſide of Temple-Bar again.
Miſs Sterl. Never do I deſire it—never, my dear Fanny, I promiſe you.—Oh, how I long to be tranſported to the dear regions of Groſvenor-Square—far—far from the dull diſtricts of Alderſgate, Cheap, Candlewick, and Farringdon Without and Within!—My heart goes pit-a-pat at the very idea of being introduced at court!—gilt chariot!—pyeballed horſes!—laced liveries!—and then the whiſpers buzzing round the circle—"Who is that young Lady! Who is ſhe?"—"Lady Melvil, Ma'am!"—Lady Melvil! my ears tingle at the ſound.—And then at dinner, inſtead of my farther perpetually aſking—"Any news upon 'Change?"—to cry—well, Sir John! any thing new from Arthur's?—or—to ſay to ſome other woman of quality, was your Ladyſhip at the Dut-
cheſs
