Yet as an heiress, she must shun disgrace,
Although no heiress to her mother’s face:
It is your duty,” said th’ imperious dame,
“(Advanced your fortune,) to advance your name,
And with superior rank, superior offers claim:
Your sister’s lover, when his sorrows die,
May look upon you, and for favour sigh;
Nor can you offer a reluctant hand;
His birth is noble, and his seat is grand.”
Alarm’d was Lucy, was in tears - “A fool!