Enter Sir Clement.
Sir C. Well, Clifford, what do you think of her?
Cliff. Make yourself perfectly easy, sir: This girl, when known, can make no impression on Lord Gayville's mind; and I doubt not but a silk-gown and a lottery-ticket, had they been offered as an ultimatum, would have purchased her person.
Sir C. [With a dry sneer.] Don't you sometimes Clifford, form erroneous opinions of people's pretensions? Interest and foolish passion inspire strange notions—as one or the other prevails, we are brought to look so low, or so high—
Cliff. [With emotion.] That we are compelled to call reason and honour to our aid——
Sir C. And then——
Cliff. We lose the intemperance of our inclinations in the sense of what is right.
Sir C. [Aside.] Sententious impostor!—[To him.] But to the point.
Cliff. Sir, I would please you if I could—I am thinking of a scheme to restore Lord Gayville to his senses, without violence or injury to any one of the parties.
Sir C. Let me hear it.