The Chevalier de Grammont was highly pleased with these lively and humorous compositions; and wherever this subject was mentioned, never failed to produce his supplement upon the occasion:  “It is strange,” said he, “that the country, which is little better than a gallows or a grave for young people, is allotted in this land only for the unfortunate, and not for the guilty! poor Lady Chesterfield, for some unguarded looks, is immediately seized upon by an angry husband, who will oblige her to spend her Christmas at a country-house, a hundred and fifty miles from London; while here there are a thousand ladies who are left at liberty to do whatever they please, and who indulge in that liberty, and whose conduct, in short, deserves a daily bastinado.  I name no person, God forbid I should; but Lady Middleton, Lady Denham, the queen’s and the duchess’s maids of honour, and a hundred others, bestow their favours to the right and to the left, and not the least notice is taken of their conduct.  As for Lady Shrewsbury, she is conspicuous.  I would take a wager she might have a man killed for her every day, find she would only hold her head the higher for it:  one would suppose she imported from Rome plenary indulgences for her conduct:  there are three or four gentlemen who wear an ounce of her hair made into bracelets, and no person finds any fault; and yet shall such a cross-grained fool as Chesterfield be permitted to exercise an act of tyranny, altogether unknown in this country, upon the prettiest woman in England, and all for a mere trifle:  but I am his humble servant; his precautions will avail him nothing; on the contrary, very often a woman, who had no bad intentions when she was suffered to remain in tranquillity, is prompted to such conduct by revenge, or reduced to it by necessity:  this is as true as the gospel:  hear now what Francisco’s saraband says on the subject: 

“Tell me, jealous-paced swain,
What avail thy idle arts,
To divide united hearts? 
Love, like the wind, I trow,
Will, where it listeth, blow;
So, prithee, peace, for all thy cares are vain.

“When you are by,
Nor wishful look, be sure, nor eloquent sigh,
Shall dare those inward fires discover,
Which burn in either lover
Yet Argus’ self, if Argus were thy spy,
Should ne’er, with all his mob of eyes,
Surprise.

“Some joys forbidden,
Transports hidden,
Which love, through dark and secret ways,
Mysterious love, to kindred souls conveys.”

The Chevalier de Grammont passed for the author of this sonnet:  neither the justness of the sentiment, nor turn of it, are surprisingly beautiful; but as it contained some truths that flattered the genius of the nation, and pleased those who interested themselves for the fair sex, the ladies were all desirous of having it to teach their children.