Lewis [ironically]. Oh, certainly; All the affecting graces of a pining love-sick swain will be destroyed: you'll lose all your credit with the ladies.—Apropos of ladies, how do you stand with Miss Drave?
Counsellor. Ill enough. Your worthy guardian and the whole family are so intolerably stiff.
Lewis. Don't say I told you; but you certainly are the happy man.
Counsellor. I?—No indeed; it is rather you.
Lewis. You have nothing to fear from me. You know my passion for your sister. But for that grave, melancholy gentleman, my dear brother, I'd have you beware of him.
Counsellor [laughs] Excellent! As if such a sour misanthrope could please any one, particularly a young girl.
Lewis. Tastes are different; and besides, my serious guardian is his friend.
Counsellor. So much the worse for you.
Lewis. No matter.
Counsellor. How! Believe me, this excellent brother of yours is continually defaming you.