the hostess herself invites you.

Be scrupulous to observe silence when any of the company are playing
or singing. Remember that they are doing this for the amusement of the
rest; and that to talk at such a time is as ill-bred as if you were
to turn your back upon a person who was talking to you, and begin a
conversation with some one else.

If you are yourself the performer, bear in mind that in music, as in
speech, "brevity is the soul of wit." Two verses of a song, or four
pages of a piece, are at all times enough to give pleasure. If your
audience desire more they will ask for more; and it is infinitely more
flattering to be encored than to receive the thanks of your hearers,
not so much in gratitude for what you have given them, but in relief
that you have left off. You should try to suit your music, like your
conversation, to your company. A solo of Beethoven's would be as much
out of place in some circles as a comic song at a quakers' meeting.
To those who only care for the light popularities of the season, give
Balfe and Verdi, Glover and Julien. To connoisseurs, if you perform
well enough to venture, give such music as will be likely to meet the
exigencies of a fine taste. Above all, attempt nothing that you cannot
execute with ease and precision.

If the party be of a small and social kind, and those games called by
the French _les jeux innocents_ are proposed, do not object to join in
them when invited. It maybe that they demand some slight exercise of
wit and readiness, and that you do not feel yourself calculated to
shine in them; but it is better to seem dull than disagreeable, and
those who are obliging can always find some clever neighbour to assist
them in the moment of need.