University of Virginia Library

DIALOGUE.

FOR TWO LITTLE MISSES.

Mary.
Do stop miss Lucretia, pray why in such haste
And where in the world are you running so fast?

Lucretia.
Pray miss dont detain me, I'm going to school
And our governess long has established a rule,
She who for three months the most neatly is drest,
Comes the soonest to school, says her lesson the best;
Shall receive from her hand the reward of a book,
And what's more, a kind word, an affectionate look;
For ten weeks I've been there e'er the bell has rung nine,
And in one fortnight more, the dear prize will be mine.

Mary.
Well, dear, 'twas but eight a few minutes ago
So you may stop a moment, you've time enough now;
What's the prize of a book? such nonsensical stuff,
If I want new books, aunt can give me enough,
I abominate reading, it makes one so dumpish,
And as to our governess, la! she's so frumpish,
Miss do mind your work, do child sit upright,
Miss your frock is unpin'd, dear how badly you write.
Then if I am late she cries, “Miss how you stay;
I believe in my heart you love nothing but play.”
Love play! to be sure I do, so you do all,
Yes it's truth, the great misses as well as the small.
Some primitive miss may protest that she don't,
And you may believe if your please, but I wont.

Lucretia.
Dear me how you talk child, I'm really amaz'd;
Such a parcel of stuff I believe you craz'd.
Pray what do you think our dear friends would all do,
If all little girls were as giddy as you?
I own I love play; yes, none more admires it,
Yet I cheerfully work when my dear aunt requires it
I make all the linen for her and my brother,
Indeed, I should blush were they made by another.
To assist in the household concerns, I arise
With the sun, nay, I sometimes make puddings and pies,
See the sheets and the tablecloths kept in repair,
Help wash, rince, and starch, when the weather is fair.
For I've heard my aunt say, who lead indolent lives,
Are indifferent daughters, and make wretched wives.

Mary.
Wives! well, 'twere worth while to be married indeed,
Were one forced to do nothing but work, write and read,
Why dear when one's married the principal merit
Is dancing with elegance, betting with spirit,
At whist or at loo, Mrs. Giddy makes light;
If she only should lose fifty dollars a night,
And miss Tattle told me, a lady she knew,
Made nothing of losing a hundred or two.
And d'ye think when I'm married, that I'll be confined
At home to make pies or the servants to mind?
No child I shall marry to live at my ease,
Eat, drink, dance and dress, and do just as I please
But la! we're fine folks to be prating away,
About marriage indeed; come dear let's go to play.

Lucretia.
Play—no, my dear Mary, though I did not choose,
To hasten to school, I should surely refuse,
To spend my time idly, for I have to make,
Full fifty new garments for charity's sake.
For dear do you know many children there be,
As good, nay, perhaps who are better than we,
Without any home where to shelter their head
Without clothes, without fire, and sometimes without bread?

Mary.
Dear me! is that true? now indeed I'm asham'd,
But I hope I am not very much to be blam'd;
Though yesterday morning I gave half a dollar
To buy little Pompey a pretty new collar.
And had I have known some poor child as you say
Might be hungry, I would not have thrown it away.
But see here, the last week when my aunt was in town,
She gave me to keep for her sake this French crown.
She bade me be sure and not foolishly spend it,
But I'm certain she did not forbid me to lend it,
'Twill buy them some linen, Lucretia do take it,
You buy it, and though I hate work, I'll help make it.

Lucretia.
How good you are Mary, I blush when I see,
In virtue you rise thus superior to me.
The prize of true merit is surely your due;
And certain I am if our governess knew
How much you deserved it she'd give it to you.

Mary.
No; No; It is yours, for my merit is small,
And compared with Lucretia 'tis nothing at all.
My flippancy henceforth I'll strive to correct;
Strive to be like yourself free, from ev'ry defect.

Lucretia.
And I thy benevolent spirit will join,
To the little industrious spirit of mine;
To be good as I can I'll exert my best pow'r—

Mary.
When I've nothing to give, why I'll work for the poor.