MISS RICHLAND. You would seem to insinuate, madam, that I have particular reasons for being disposed to refuse it. MRS CROAKER. Whatever I insinuate, my dear, don't be so ready to wish an explanation. MISS RICHLAND. I own I should be sorry Mr Honeywood's long friendship and mine should be misunderstood. HONEYWOOD. There's no answering for others, madam. But I hope you'll never find me presuming to offer more than the most delicate friendship may readily allow. MISS RICHLAND. And I shall be prouder of such a tribute from you, than the most passionate professions from others. HONEYWOOD. My own sentiments, madam: friendship is a disinterested commerce between equals; love, an abject intercourse between tyrants and slaves. MISS RICHLAND. And, without a compliment, I know none more disinterested, or more capable of friendship, than Mr Honeywood. MRS CROAKER. And, indeed, I know nobody that has more friends, at least among the ladies. Miss Fruzz, Miss Oddbody, and Miss Winterbottom, praise him in all companies. As for Miss Biddy Bundle, she's his professed admirer. MISS RICHLAND. Indeed! an admirer!—I did not know, sir, you were such a favourite there. But is she seriously so handsome? Is she the mighty thing talked of? HONEYWOOD. The town, madam, seldom begins to praise a lady's beauty, till she's beginning to lose it. MRS CROAKER. [ Smiling. But she's resolved never to lose it, it seems. For, as her natural face decays, her skill improves in making the artificial one. Well, nothing diverts me more than one of those fine, old, dressy things, who thinks to conceal her age, by every where exposing her person; sticking herself up in the front of a side box; trailing through a minuet at Almack's; and then, in the public gardens, looking for all the world like one of the painted ruins of the place. HONEYWOOD. Every age has its admirers, ladies. While you, perhaps, are trading among the warmer climates of youth, there ought to be some to carry on a useful commerce in the frozen latitudes beyond fifty. MISS RICHLAND. But, then, the mortifications they must suffer, before they can be fitted out for traffic. I have seen one of them fret a whole morning at her hair-dresser, when all the fault was her face. HONEYWOOD. And yet, I'll engage, has carried that face at last to a very good market. This good-natured town, madam, has husbands, like spectacles, to fit every age, from fifteen to fourscore. MRS CROAKER. But you Well, you're a dear good-natured creature. know you're engaged with us this morning upon a strolling party. I want to show Olivia the town, and the things; I believe I shall have business for you for the whole day. HONEYWOOD. I am sorry, madam, I have an appointment with Mr Croaker, which it is impossible to put off. MRS CROAKER. What! with my husband? then I'm resolved to take no refusal. Nay, I protest you must. You know I never laugh so much as with you. HONEYWOOD. Why, if I must, I must. I'll swear you have put me into such spirits. Well, do you find jest, and I'll find laugh, I promise you. We'll wait for the chariot in the next room. [Exeunt. Enter LEONTINE and OLIVIA. LEONTINE. There they go, thoughtless and happy. My dearest Olivia, what would I give to see you capable of sharing in their amusements, and as cheerful as they are. OLIVIA. How, my Leontine, how can I be cheerful, when I have so many terrors to oppress me? The fear of being detected by this family, and the apprehensions of a censuring world, when I must be detected LEONTINE. The world, my love! what can it say? At worst it can only say, that, being compelled by a mercenary guardian to embrace life disliked, you formed a resolution of a you flying with the man of your choice; that you confided in his honour, and took refuge in my father's house; the only one where yours could remain without censure. OLIVIA. But consider, Leontine, your disobedience and my indiscretion; your being sent to France to bring home a sister, and, instead of a sister, bringing home LEONTINE. One dearer than a thousand sisters. One that I am convinced will be equally dear to the rest of the family, when she comes to be known. OLIVIA. And that, I fear, will shortly be. LEONTINE. Impossible, till we ourselves think proper to make the discovery. My sister, you know, has been with her aunt, at Lyons, since she was a child, and you find every creature in the family takes you for her. OLIVIA. But mayn't she write, mayn't her aunt write? LEONTINE. Her aunt scarce ever writes, and all my sister's letters are directed to me. OLIVIA. But won't your refusing Miss Richland, for whom you know the old gentleman intends you, create a suspicion? LEONTINE, There, there's my master-stroke. I have resolved not to refuse her; nay, an hour hence I have consented to go with my father to make her an offer of my heart and fortune. Your heart and fortune! OLIVIA. LEONTINE. Don't be alarmed, my dearest. Can Olivia think so meanly of my honour, or my love, as to suppose I could ever hope for happiness from any but her? No, my Olivia, neither the force, nor, permit me to add, the delicacy of my passion, leave any room to suspect me. I only offer Miss Richland a heart I am convinced she will refuse; as I am confident, that, without knowing it, her affections are fixed upon Mr Honeywood. OLIVIA. Mr Honeywood! You'll excuse my apprehensions; but when your merits come to be put in the balance— LEONTINE. You view them with too much partiality. However, by making this offer, I show a seeming compliance with my father's command; and perhaps, upon her refusal, I may have his consent to choose for myself. OLIVIA. Well, I submit. And yet, my Leontine, I own, I shall envy her even your pretended addresses. I consider every look, every expression of your esteem, as due only to me. This is folly, perhaps : I allow it; but it is natural to suppose, that merit which has made an impression on one's own heart, may be powerful over that of another. LEONTINE. Don't, my life's treasure, don't let us make imaginary evils, when know we have so many you real ones to encounter. At worst, you know, if Miss Richland should consent, or my father refuse his pardon, it can but end in a trip to Scotland; and— Enter CROAKER. CROAKER. Where have you been, boy? I have been seeking you. My friend Honeywood here has been saying such comfortable things. Ah! he's an example indeed. Where is he? I left him here. LEONTINE. Sir, I believe you may see him, and hear him too, in the next room; he's preparing to go out with the ladies. |