University of Virginia Library

DIALOGUE.

FOR THREE YOUNG LADIES.

Ellen.
Cousin, where have you been? oh, I see by your looks,
By your haste to get home, and your cargo of books;
Let me look at your list, one, two, three, four, five,
Six, seven, eight, volumes, as I am alive;
Well how I do envy you, dear do you know,
Mamma for the world would not let me do so,
She calls novels nonsense, devoid of all truth,
Say's they poison the minds, and the morals of youth,
Paint life in false colours—

Lucy.
indeed, they do not.
Virtue always is charming though found in a cot;

Caroline.
Yes, lovely and charming, and all that is great
And marries a noble, and lives in high state—

Lucy.
And oh, what distress the poor heroine proves,
From cross fathers and guardians, the man whom she loves
Being poor and dependant—

Caroline.
for titles and pelf,
They make her wed one twice as old as herself,
Then such fainting and dying, 'tis sweetly alarming.

Lucy.
And then when the old husband dies, 'tis so charming;
The lover turns out to be somebody great,
A lord or a duke, with a monstrous estate,
Who makes her a lady and sweetly presents,
Pearls, diamonds and guineas as though they were cents.

Ellen.
Dear Lucy such nonsense can never be true,
For history holds no such scenes to our view.

Lucy.
Why don't it?

Ellen.
no; surely, when I was at home
And read through the annals of Greece and of Rome,
I found no such wonderful stories, not I,
Nor was it so easy to faint and to die;
To faint was disgrace, but on some dread occasion,
And none would brave death, but to profit the nation.

Caroline.
Brave death, what is death for the good of the state?

Lucy.
Dear me, a'nt it better to live and be great?

Caroline
Yes, all would be great I am sure if they could;

Ellen.
But 'tis not a word very well understood.

Lucy.
Oh! I comprehend it—It is to be gay,
To have money to trifle and squander away:
To wear finer cloaths than the rest of our neighbours;

Ellen.
To laugh at the being who reasons or labours;
To turn all religion and virtue to jest,
To game, run in debt—

Lucy.
cousin, now I protest
You are dreadfully hard—

Ellen.
yet these I belive
Are the principal virtues your novelists give.

Caroline.
Do pray let me rescue some few from your satire,
Miss Burney, her novels are copied from nature;
And others in excellent writing excel—

Ellen.
I'm delighted to hear it, now dear wont you tell
Mamma, that some few, in a moment of leisure,
I surely may read—

Caroline.
with both profit and pleasure.

Ellen.
But cousin, you know 'tis not often we see,
Girls rais'd from a low to an envied degree,
And acting with judgment—

Lucy.
now do not say so;
There was Pamela rais'd but some few years ago,
From a plain country girl—

Caroline.
to a life full of care.

Lucy.
Made the wife of a lord—

Caroline.
a lord's follies to bear;
And tamely his libertine humours to suit,
Bear slights and contempt, be obediently mute,

Lucy.
To be sure! when by silent submission they prove
The extent of their confidence, honour, and love.
Then they share in the honours their spouse may acquire.

Ellen.
Now Lucy how foolish; who thinks to aspire
To titles and honour, whose birth is unknown,
Except in the page of a novel alone.

Lucy.
Nay, that's your mistake, we have proofs here at home;

Ellen.
Pray where?

Lucy.
can you ask? why in madam Jerome,
Only think what a novel her life might produce,

Ellen.
And should it be written pray where is its use.
A woman, a native Columbian, born free,
Weds a foreigner 'scaped from the storms of the sea.
He leaves her—

Lucy.
his brother the emp'ror desired it,
She was not a princess, his honour required it.

Ellen.
And acted with honour, the man who complied?
And deserted a lovely, young, innocent bride.

Lucy.
She was but a citizen's daughter, now here
She's an emperor's sister—

Ellen.
I'd rather, my dear,
Be the wife of a ploughman and live in a cot,

Lucy.
Oh, Ellen, how vulgar. I'm sure I would not.
Only think how delightful it sounds to the ear,
A duchess, and five thousand guineas a year,
To spend as she pleases.

Ellen
Well rather let me
Be poor—and remain independent and free;
Or a citizen's wife, for what title is greater,
A mild unassuming, but well inform'd creature,
Who knows how to manage her house.

Lucy.
What makes pies?
Soups, pickles, and sweet meats! my dear I despise
Such low bred employment, I rather would know
How to manage my husband—

Caroline.
ay, that you'll allow
Would be better by half—

Ellen.
no! no! I would first
Learn to conquer myself—'tis a task child I trust,
You will own asks more energy prudence and art,
Than had Alexander, or e'en Bonaparte.

Caroline.
Oh, hapless Napoleon, he poor silly elf
Would easier conquer the world than himself.

Ellen.
He may conquer the world, but I think he would find
'Twas a much harder task to subdue a free mind.
Every native Columbian should bid him defiance;
Spurn his titles and scorn his unhallow'd alliance

Caroline.
I think I should spurn them if offered to me,
I should like to be great; but I'd rather be free;
And with all his fine promises, somehow should dread.
That one day or other, he'd cut off my head.

Ellen.
My cousin, 'tis virtue alone makes us great,
Religion alone makes us free;—from this state
Of dependence and bondage when'er we arise,
And soar to our primitive region, the skies,
'Tis virtue alone can conduct us—

Lucy.
but say,
Is the path hard to find; only point out the way.

Ellen.
Make religion your choice, your director through life,

Caroline.
Yes Lucy—read “Cœlebs in search of a wife.”

Ellen.
That's not all, be the character there represented,

Caroline.
Only half so good, Ellen, would make me contented.

Lucy.
Well novels I'm certain may sometimes be good.

Caroline.
And my aunt, though severe, would not be understood
To pass sentence on all, no, where nature speaks out,
And religion is honoured, that novel no doubt
May be read with advantage;

Ellen.
that novel would be
Allowed by my mother a lesson for me.
Such a novel she'd bid me peruse o'er and o'er,
The authors?

Caroline.
are Edgworth, and Burney and More.
By each line they have written, the taste may be formed,
The heart rendered better, its piety warmed,
The judgment corrected—

Lucy.
Yes, all that may be;
But they're not exactly the novels for me.
I love runaway marriages, castles and spectres,
And libertine lovers, and gen'rous protectors,
And fighting of duels—

Ellen.
oh! pray dont proceed,
Such novels as that must be wicked indeed.
So let us dear cousins, resolve to read none;
But engross'd by our juvenile studies alone,
Strive to learn all the duties befitting our station,
And our honour's will spring from our friend's approbation.