let me hear. Rowley Sir Oliver is arrived, and at this moment in town. Sir Peter How! you astonish me! I thought you did not expect him this month. Rowley I did not; but his passage has been remarkably quick. Sir Peter Egad, I shall rejoice to see my old friend. ’T is fifteen years since we met. — We have had many a day together:⁠—but does he still enjoin us not to inform his nephews of his arrival? Rowley Most strictly. He means, before it is known, to make some trial of their dispositions. Sir Peter Ah! there needs no art to discover their merits⁠—however he shall have his way; but, pray, does he know I am married? Rowley Yes, and will soon wish you joy. Sir Peter What, as we drink health to a friend in a consumption! Ah! Oliver will laugh at me. We used to rail at matrimony together, but he has been steady to his text. — Well, he must be soon at my house, though⁠—I’ll instantly give orders for his reception.⁠—But, Master Rowley, don’t drop a word that Lady Teazle and I ever disagree. Rowley By no means. Sir Peter For I should never be able to stand Noll’s jokes; so I’ll have him think, Lord forgive me! that we are a very happy couple. Rowley I understand you:⁠—but then you must be very careful not to differ while he is in the house with you. Sir Peter Egad, and so we must⁠—and that’s impossible. Ah! Master Rowley, when an old bachelor marries a young wife, he deserves⁠—no⁠—the crime carries its punishment along with it. Exeunt.

Act II

Scene I

A room in Sir Peter Teazle’s house

	Enter Sir Peter and Lady Teazle.
Sir Peter	Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I’ll not bear it!
Lady Teazle	Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in everything, and what’s more, I will too. What! though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married.
Sir Peter	Very well, ma’am, very well;⁠—so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?
Lady Teazle	Authority! No, to be sure:⁠—if you want authority over me, you should have adopted me, and not married me: I am sure you were old enough.
Sir Peter	Old enough!⁠—ay, there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I’ll not be ruined by your extravagance!
Lady Teazle	My extravagance! I’m sure I’m not more extravagant than a woman of fashion ought to be.
Sir Peter	No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. ’Slife! to spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a greenhouse, and give a fête champêtre 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 lapdog.
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-à-vis⁠—and three powdered footmen before your chair; 4 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. 5
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 break my heart, I promise you: however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.
Lady Teazle	Then why will you endeavour to make yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense?
Sir Peter	’Slife, madam, I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me?
Lady Teazle	Lud, Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?
Sir Peter	The fashion, indeed! what had you to do with the fashion before you married me?
Lady Teazle	For my part, I should think you would