“Egad, my Lord,” cried Mr. Coverley, “there I should beat you hollow, for your Lordship never bows at all.”
“And pray, Sir, do you?” said Mrs. Selwyn.
“Do I, Ma’am?” cried he; “why, only see!”
“I protest,” cried she, “I should have taken that for a shrug, if you had not told me ’twas a bow.”
“My lord,” cried Mr. Coverley, “let’s practise;” and then, most ridiculously, they pranced about the room, making bows.
“We must now,” said Lord Orville, turning to me, “call upon Miss Anville.”
“O no, my Lord,” cried I; “indeed I have nothing to propose.” He would not, however, be refused; but urged me so much to say something, that at last, not to make him wait any longer, I ventured to propose an extempore couplet upon some given subject. Mr. Coverley instantly made me a bow, or, according to Mrs. Selwyn, a shrug, crying, “Thank you, Ma’am; egad, that’s my forte!-why, my Lord, the Fates seem against you.”
Lady Louisa was then applied to; and every body seemed eager to hear her opinion. “I don’t know what to say, I declare,” cried she, affectedly; “can’t you pass me?”
“By no means,” said Lord Merton.
“Is it possible your Ladyship can make so cruel a request?” said Mr. Lovel.