Now I think of it, a man should be in the wrong now-and-then, to make his wife shine.  Miss Howe tells my charmer, that adversity is her shining-time.  ’Tis a generous thing in a man to make his wife shine at his own expense:  to give her leave to triumph over him by patient reasoning:  for were he to be too imperial to acknowledge his fault on the spot, she will find the benefit of her duty and submission in future, and in the high opinion he will conceive of her prudence and obligingness—­and so, by degrees, she will become her master’s master.

But for a wife to come up with kemboed arm, the other hand thrown out, perhaps with a pointing finger—­Look ye here, Sir!—­Take notice!—­If you are wrong, I’ll be wrong!—­If you are in a passion, I’ll be in a passion!  —­Rebuff, for rebuff, Sir!—­If you fly, I’ll tear!—­If you swear, I’ll curse!—­And the same room, and the same bed, shall not hold us, Sir!- For, remember, I am married, Sir!—­I am a wife, Sir!—­You can’t help yourself, Sir!—­Your honour, as well as your peace, is in my keeping!  And, if you like not this treatment, you may have worse, Sir!

Ah!  Jack!  Jack!  What man, who has observed these things, either implied or expressed, in other families, would wish to be a husband!

Dorcas found this paper in one of the drawers of her lady’s dressing-table.  She was reperusing it, as she supposes, when the honest wench carried my message to desire her to favour me at the tea-table; for she saw her pop a paper into the drawer as she came in; and there, on her mistress’s going to meet me in the dining-room, she found it; and to be this.

But I had better not to have had a copy of it, as far as I know:  for, determined as I was before upon my operations, it instantly turned all my resolutions in her favour.  Yet I would give something to be convinced that she did not pop it into her drawer before the wench, in order for me to see it; and perhaps (if I were to take notice of it) to discover whether Dorcas, according to Miss Howe’s advice, were most my friend, or her’s.

The very suspicion of this will do her no good:  for I cannot bear to be artfully dealt with.  People love to enjoy their own peculiar talents in monopoly, as arguments against me in her behalf.  But I know ever tittle thou canst say upon it.  Spare therefore thy wambling nonsense, I desire thee; and leave this sweet excellence and me to our fate:  that will determine for us, as it shall please itself:  for as Cowley says,

        An unseen hand makes all our moves: 
        And some are great, and some are small;
      Some climb to good, some from great fortunes fall: 
        Some wise men, and some fools we call: 
      Figures, alas! of speech!—­For destiny plays us all.

But, after all, I am sorry, almost sorry (for how shall I do to be quite sorry, when it is not given to me to be so?) that I cannot, until I have made further trials, resolve upon wedlock.