SURFACE. I have a difficult Hand to play...

SURFACE. I have a difficult Hand to play in this Affair—Lady Teazle as lately suspected my Views on Maria—but She must by no means be let into that secret, at least till I have her more in my Power.

[Enter LADY TEAZLE]

LADY TEAZLE. What[!] Sentiment in soliloquy—have you been very impatient now?—O Lud! don't pretend to look grave—I vow I couldn't come before——

SURFACE. O Madam[,] Punctuality is a species of Constancy, a very unfashionable quality in a Lady.

LADY TEAZLE. Upon my word you ought to pity me, do you now Sir Peter is grown so ill-tempered to me of Late! and so jealous! of Charles too that's the best of the story isn't it?

SURFACE. I am glad my scandalous Friends keep that up. [Aside.]

LADY TEAZLE. I am sure I wish He would let Maria marry him—and then perhaps He would be convinced—don't you—Mr. Surface?

SURFACE. Indeed I do not.—[Aside.] O certainly I do—for then my dear Lady Teazle would also be convinced how wrong her suspicions were of my having any design on the silly Girl——

LADY TEAZLE. Well—well I'm inclined to believe you—besides I really never could perceive why she should have so any admirers.

SURFACE. O for her Fortune—nothing else—

LADY TEAZLE. I believe so for tho' she is certainly very pretty—yet she has no conversation in the world—and is so grave and reserved—that I declare I think she'd have made an excellent wife for Sir Peter.—

SURFACE. So she would.

LADY TEAZLE. Then—one never hears her speak ill of anybody—which you know is mighty dull—

SURFACE. Yet she doesn't want understanding—

LADY TEAZLE. No more she does—yet one is always disapointed when one hears [her] speak—For though her Eyes have no kind of meaning in them—she very seldom talks Nonsense.

SURFACE. Nay—nay surely—she has very fine eyes—

LADY TEAZLE. Why so she has—tho' sometimes one fancies there's a little sort of a squint—

SURFACE. A squint—O fie—Lady Teazle.

LADY TEAZLE. Yes yes—I vow now—come there is a left-handed Cupid in one eye—that's the Truth on't.

SURFACE. Well—his aim is very direct however—but Lady Sneerwell has quite corrupted you.

LADY TEAZLE. No indeed—I have not opinion enough of her to be taught by her, and I know that she has lately rais'd many scandalous hints of me—which you know one always hears from one common Friend, or other.

SURFACE. Why to say truth I believe you are not more obliged to her than others of her acquaintance.

LADY TEAZLE. But isn't [it] provoking to hear the most ill-natured Things said to one and there's my friend Lady Sneerwell has circulated I don't know how many scandalous tales of me, and all without any foundation, too; that's what vexes me.

SURFACE. Aye Madam to be sure that is the Provoking circumstance—without Foundation—yes yes—there's the mortification indeed—for when a slanderous story is believed against one—there certainly is no comfort like the consciousness of having deserved it——

LADY TEAZLE. No to be sure—then I'd forgive their malice—but to attack me, who am really so innocent—and who never say an ill-natured thing of anybody—that is, of any Friend—! and then Sir Peter too—to have him so peevish—and so suspicious—when I know the integrity of my own Heart—indeed 'tis monstrous.

SURFACE. But my dear Lady Teazle 'tis your own fault if you suffer it—when a Husband entertains a groundless suspicion of his Wife and withdraws his confidence from her—the original compact is broke and she owes it to the Honour of her sex to endeavour to outwit him—

LADY TEAZLE. Indeed—So that if He suspects me without cause it follows that the best way of curing his jealousy is to give him reason for't—

SURFACE. Undoubtedly—for your Husband [should] never be deceived in you—and in that case it becomes you to be frail in compliment to his discernment—

LADY TEAZLE. To be sure what you say is very reasonable—and when the consciousness of my own Innocence——

SURFACE. Ah: my dear—Madam there is the great mistake—'tis this very conscious Innocence that is of the greatest Prejudice to you—what is it makes you negligent of Forms and careless of the world's opinion—why the consciousness of your Innocence—what makes you thoughtless in your Conduct and apt to run into a thousand little imprudences—why the consciousness of your Innocence—what makes you impatient of Sir Peter's temper, and outrageous at his suspicions—why the consciousness of your own Innocence—

LADY TEAZLE. 'Tis very true.

SURFACE. Now my dear Lady Teazle if you but once make a trifling Faux Pas you can't conceive how cautious you would grow, and how ready to humour and agree with your Husband.

LADY TEAZLE. Do you think so—

SURFACE. O I'm sure on't; and then you'd find all scandal would cease at once—for in short your Character at Present is like a Person in a Plethora, absolutely dying of too much Health—

LADY TEAZLE. So—so—then I perceive your Prescription is that I must sin in my own Defence—and part with my virtue to preserve my Reputation.—

SURFACE. Exactly so upon my credit Ma'am[.]

LADY TEAZLE. Well certainly this is the oddest Doctrine—and the newest Receipt for avoiding calumny.

SURFACE. An infallible one believe me—Prudence like experience must be paid for—

LADY TEAZLE. Why if my understanding were once convinced——

SURFACE. Oh, certainly Madam, your understanding SHOULD be convinced—yes—yes—Heaven forbid I should persuade you to do anything you THOUGHT wrong—no—no—I have too much honor to desire it—

LADY TEAZLE. Don't—you think we may as well leave Honor out of the Argument? [Rises.]

SURFACE. Ah—the ill effects of your country education I see still remain with you.

LADY TEAZLE. I doubt they do indeed—and I will fairly own to you, that If I could be persuaded to do wrong it would be by Sir Peter's ill-usage—sooner than your honourable Logic, after all.

SURFACE. Then by this Hand, which He is unworthy of——

For full play text, see Project Gutenberg