Two shocking charges, thou’lt say:  and so they were!—­The Peer was outrageous upon the forgery charge.  The Ladies vowed never to forgive the personating part.

Not a peace-maker among them.  So we all turned women, and scolded.

My Lord told me, that he believed in his conscience there was not a viler fellow upon God’s earth than me.—­What signifies mincing the matter? said he—­and that it was not the first time I had forged his hand.

To this I answered, that I supposed, when the statute of Scandalum Magnatum was framed, there were a good many in the peerage who knew they deserved hard names; and that that law therefore was rather made to privilege their qualities, than to whiten their characters.

He called upon me to explain myself, with a Sir-r, so pronounced, as to show that one of the most ignominious words in our language was in his head.

People, I said, that were fenced in by their quality, and by their years, should not take freedoms that a man of spirit could not put up with, unless he were able heartily to despise the insulter.

This set him in a violent passion.  He would send for Pritchard instantly.  Let Pritchard be called.  He would alter his will; and all he could leave from me, he would.

Do, do, my Lord, said I:  I always valued my own pleasure above your estate.  But I’ll let Pritchard know, that if he draws, he shall sign and seal.

Why, what would I do to Pritchard?—­shaking his crazy head at me.

Only, what he, or any man else, writes with his pen, to despoil me of what I think my right, he shall seal with his ears; that’s all, my Lord.

Then the two Ladies interposed.

Lady Sarah told me, that I carried things a great way; and that neither
Lord M. nor any of them, deserved the treatment I gave them.

I said, I could not bear to be used ill by my Lord, for two reasons; first, because I respected his Lordship above any man living; and next, because it looked as if I were induced by selfish considerations to take that from him, which nobody else would offer to me.

And what, returned he, shall be my inducement to take what I do at your hands?—­Hay, Sir?

Indeed, Cousin Lovelace, said Lady Betty, with great gravity, we do not any of us, as Lady Sarah says, deserve at your hands the treatment you give us:  and let me tell you, that I don’t think my character and your cousin Charlotte’s ought to be prostituted, in order to ruin an innocent lady.  She must have known early the good opinion we all have of her, and how much we wished her to be your wife.  This good opinion of ours has been an inducement to her (you see she says so) to listen to your address.  And this, with her friends’ folly, has helped to throw her into your power.  How you have requited her is too apparent.  It becomes the character we all bear, to disclaim your actions by her.  And let me tell you, that to have her abused by wicked people raised up to personate us, or any of us, makes a double call upon us to disclaim them.