Lady. Marianne, you mustn't listen to Mr Floriville,—for travellers may persuade you into any thing—and many a woman has been ruined in one country, by being told it is the fashion in another.
Lord. Here he comes: I see, as plain as my peerage, I sha'n't keep my temper.
Enter Floriville.
Flor. Ladies, a thousand pardons, for not waiting on you before, but this is the first vacant moment I have had since my arrival in Bath.
Mari. Sir, your coming at all is taken as a very great compliment, I'll assure you.
Lady. Leave the room immediately—no reply—I will be obeyed—[To Marianne, who exits.] Mr Floriville, we are very happy to see you.
Flor. Ma'am, you do me honour—my lord, where's Harry?—I thought to have found him here;—what, he didn't chuse to stay?—so much the better—it shows he's not a man of ceremony—we do the same in Italy. But, hark ye, uncle,—is this the lady I'm to call my aunt?
Lord. My gorge is rising: I shall certainly do him a mischief.
Flor. [Spying at her.] Rather experienced or so—a little antique, eh!—however, the same motive that makes her a good aunt to me, will make her a good wife to you—you understand me?
Lord. Dam'me if I do.