It was ordinary for a man who had been drunk in good company, or....

to speak of it next day before women for whom he had the greatest respect.

He was reproved, perhaps, with a blow of the fan, or an 'Oh, fy!' but the angry lady still preserved an apparent approbation in her countenance.

He was called a strange, wicked fellow, a sad wretch; he shrugs his shoulders, swears, receives another blow, swears again he did not know he swore, and all was well.
You might often see men game in the presence of women, and throw at once for more than they were worth, to recommend themselves as men of spirit.

I found by long experience that the loosest principles and most abandoned behaviour carried all before them in pretentions to women of fortune." [Footnote A: _Spectator_, No.154.Steele is writing as Simon Honeycomb.] Into this merry throng came Anne Oldfield during that never-to-be-forgotten summer--not, however, as an equal, but as an humble player of the troupe from Drury Lane.