| Citation |
VGW(PA.737.083
21-28 Oct 1737:11, 12, 21 (65)
From a London Magazine. A modern polite conversation, as it
really pass'd between five young ladies and a young
gentleman, (who, to conceal their true names,) are here
called Miss Courtly, Miss Fidget, Mr. Spritely, Miss
Triffle, Miss Edging, and Miss Weldon: publish'd with a
design to expose the insipidity of such conversation; and to
hint the necessity of giving young people a more sober,
virtuous, and useful education than that which is
fashionable at present.
Court. Oh! Miss Fidget, how well you came to go with me to
the play t'other night!
Fidg. Oh, dear Miss Courtly! I beg a thousand pardons; but
upon my life, it was not my fault; was it now, Mr Spritely?
Sprite. No indeed, Mem, I'll answer for Miss Fidget; for I
was with her all that evening.
Court. I insist upon knowing where.
Sprite. Shall I tell, Miss Fidget?
Fidg. Oh! no, don't tell, Mr. Spritely;--------yes, hang
it, you may too, if you will.
Sprite. Then, Mem, to tell you the truth, Miss Fidget, and
my sister, and I, were all at my Lady Allnight's assembly.
Court. Oh! you wicked things you! not to let me know of it;
when you had heard me so often say too, how much I wanted to
go. ----I swear, I take it monstrous ill. Pray, don't you
think my lady looks well in her sac?
Sprite. Oh! yes; most adorably fine.
Fidg. Oh monstrous! I am astonished to hear you say so; I
think I never saw any thing look so frightful!----and then
she had got on the most horrible tete de mouton I ever saw.-
----Pray, do you know who is her milliner?
Sprite. Yes, Mrs. Lefanti, that makes up all the Dutchess
of Frippery's French heads.
Fidg. Why, was you there? Lord! I am the most unfortunate
creature----all that day I was ill with a violent pain in
the head----It always happens so, when I am to go any
where.-----Well! if ever I make another engagement-----Oh!
Miss Triffle, when are you and I to go to the new opera?
Will you go next Saturday?
Trif. Lord! Mem, I have seen it.
Fidg. Indeed! and how do you like it?
Trif. Oh! most violently! the finest thing!----'tis full of
adagio.
Fidg. Oh! that dear adagio!----I am charm'd with the
adagio, 'tis so quick and nimble; and keeps up one's
spirits----I detest any thing dull----Lord! what do you
think I heard last night?
Trif. Lord! what? I don't know.
Fidg. Tho' I swear I don't believe there's any thing in it.
Trif. Well! but what?
Fidg. Why, that Farinelli is going away.
Trif. Oh, good God! I hope not. I would not have him go,
without seeing him once more in * Arti surst for all the
world. [footnote:] * Artaxerxes.
Edg. Oh! there is the sweetest song in that dear opera,
that begins + Sunkinevi chitati. [footnote:] +Son qual
nave agitate.
Sprite. Oh! that's Miss Fairlove's favourite song; she's
always humming it.
Fidg. Lord! Mr. Spritely, she can't sing.---I never heard
any body make such a terrible noise in my life.
Sprite. I assure you, Mem, she learns of Dr. Pepusch; he
comes home to her 3 times a week.
Fidg. Indeed! well, I think the money and time too are
thrown away upon her.----Oh lack-a-day, Miss Edging, when
did you see Mr. Tattle?
. . . [The discussion continues with 18 exchanges concerning
sailing, riding, and card games; followed by]
Edg. Pray, have you heard the new singer?
Fidg. No, but I will to-morrow night; pray, how do you like
him?
Edg. I don't know, --so, so--I don't think him so good as
Conti.
Fidg. Lord! I heard a gentleman say last night, that
understands musick very well, that he's better than Conti;
what do you think Mr. Spritely?
Sprite. Oh! no; indeed, Mem, not so well as Conti.
Edg. Do you understand musick, Mr. Spritely?
Sprite. Oh! nothing to speak of, Mem.
Fidg. Yes, indeed, Mr. Spritely plays very finely upon the
German flute; he learns of Weediman.
Fidg. Oh! that is a dear creature, that Weediman.
Edg. Lord! but Martini is my favourite, the fine haut-boy.
Edg. Oh! no; I like Jemmy Nani best.---I heard that Mr.
Handel should say, that he thought Jemmy Nani the best
violin in the world.--Oh! dear Miss Weldon, when was you
dancing?
Weld. Last Friday night.
Edg. How many couple had you?
Weld. Nine.
Edg. Lord! I think nine's too many; I like eight couple
best.--pray what dances did you dance? Did you dance the
new dance?---there---Lord! I forget the name.---
Weld. What! Lord Tinsel's fagary.
Edg. No.
Weld. What then! the new Hunt the Squirrel.
Edg. No, --pish! that ever I should forget.--I have the
foolishest memory; 'tis something of rary.
Weld. Oh! I know what you mean; the Tepperary.
Edg. Yes, yes, yes, yes, that's it;---'tis a charming
dance.---Pray, was Miss Patchit there?
Weld. Yes; she danc'd with young Barreau.
Edg. Lord! That's a frightful fellow! What a terrible long
nose he has!
Weld. Yes, but he dances very prettily.
Edg. Lord! I am surpriz'd to hear you talk so.----I never
saw any body poke out their head so in my life;---besides,
he keeps no time.---Pray now, had Miss Patchit got on her
new solitaire.
Weld. Yes; but I did not like it one bit; and they say,
they are false stones too.
Edg. And yet now I heard it commended prodigiously t'other
night.----I want sadly to see it; tho' I don't believe I
shall like it.--Lord! what's a clock! I must be going home;-
--to be sure my papa will hang me for keeping the horses out
so long.
Weld. Oh! no, 'tis but 9 o'clock.
Edg. Lord! I must go, ---by that time I get home and
undress me, our supper will be ready---Miss Weldon, is your
chariot here? Or will you go home in mine?
Weld. Lord! Isn't my fellow here yet?---Pray, sir, (to the
footman) be so good as to tell my man, he may go home with
the chariot; for I shall go home with Miss Edging.---Oh
Lord! who goes to the masquerade!
All together. I, I, I, I.
Weld. What habits have you got?
Court. Lord! I don't know; I must see about one to-morrow
in the afternoon.
Fidg. Lord! I have got a chimney-sweeper.
Edg. And I have a butcher.
Weld. And I am to be drest like a young rake.--I am to have
my brother's cloaths--Oh! good God! 'tis a quarter after
nine; I shall be hang'd for staying; for I promis'd my mama
to be at home before 9.---Come Miss Edging for God's sake
let's go. (Here a proposal being made by Miss Courtly, they
all sate down to cards.)
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