Arte. You are the less to be pitied, Melantha, because you subject yourself to these affronts, by coming perpetually to court, where you have no business nor employment.

Mel. I declare, I had rather of the two be rallied nay, mal traitee at court, than be deified in the town; for, assuredly, nothing can be so ridicule as a mere town lady.

Dor. Especially at court.  How I have seen them crowd and sweat in the drawing-room on a holiday-night!  For that’s their time to swarm and invade the presence.  O, how they catch at a bow, or any little salute from a courtier, to make show of their acquaintance! and, rather than be thought to be quite unknown, they court’sy to one another; but they take true pains to come near the circle, and press and peep upon the princess, to write letters into the country how she was dressed, while the ladies, that stand about, make their court to her with abusing them.

Arte. These are sad truths, Melantha; and therefore I would e’en advise you to quit the court, and live either wholly in the town, or, if you like not that, in the country.

Dor. In the country! nay, that’s to fall beneath the town, for they live upon our offals here.  Their entertainment of wit is only the remembrance of what they had when they were last in town;—­they live this year upon the last year’s knowledge, as their cattle do all night, by chewing the cud of what they eat in the afternoon.

Mel. And they tell, for news, such unlikely stories!  A letter from one of us is such a present to them, that the poor souls wait for the carrier’s-day with such devotion, that they cannot sleep the night before.

Arte. No more than I can, the night before I am to go a journey.

Dor. Or I, before I am to try on a new gown.

Mel. A song, that’s stale here, will be new there a twelvemonth hence; and if a man of the town by chance come amongst them, he’s reverenced for teaching them the tune.

Dor. A friend of mine, who makes songs sometimes, came lately out of the west, and vowed he was so put out of countenance with a song of his; for, at the first country gentleman’s he visited, he saw three tailors cross legged upon the table in the hall, who were tearing out as loud as ever they could sing,

  —­After the pangs of a desperate lover, &c.

And that all day he heard of nothing else, but the daughters of the house, and the maids, humming it over in every corner, and the father whistling it.

Arte. Indeed, I have observed of myself, that when I am out of town but a fortnight, I am so humble, that I would receive a letter from my tailor or mercer for a favour.

Mel. When I have been at grass in the summer, and am new come up again, methinks I’m to be turned into ridicule by all that see me; but when I have been once or twice at court, I begin to value myself again, and to despise my country acquaintance.