BARON.
But do you not think of some atonement to the unfortunate girl?
COUNT.
Did your villain atone?
BARON.
No: when his reason was matured, he wished to make some recompense; but his endeavours were too late.
COUNT.
I will follow his example, and wait till my reason is matured, before I think myself competent to determine what to do.
BARON.
And till that time I defer your marriage with my daughter.
COUNT.
Would you delay her happiness so long? Why, my dear Baron, considering the fashionable life I lead, it may be ten years before my judgment arrives to its necessary standard.
BARON.
I have the head-ach, Count—These tidings have discomposed, disordered me—I beg your absence for a few minutes.
COUNT.
I obey—And let me assure you, my Lord, that, although, from the extreme delicacy of your honour, you have ever through life shuddered at seduction; yet, there are constitutions, and there are circumstances, in which it can be palliated.
BARON.
Never [violently].
COUNT.
Not in a grave, serious, reflecting man such as you, I grant. But in a gay, lively, inconsiderate, flimsy, frivolous coxcomb, such as myself, it is excusable: for me to keep my word to a woman, would be deceit: ’tis not expected of me. It is in my character to break oaths in love; as it is in your nature, my Lord, never to have spoken any thing but wisdom and truth. [Exit