Mrs. Blandish. Indeed!
Blandish. Yes; 'twas high time.—The women don't pay; and as for the men, the age grows circumspect in proportion to its poverty. It's odds but one loses a character to establish a debt, and must fight a duel to obtain the payment. I have a thousand better plans, but two principal ones; and I am only at a loss which to chuse.
Mrs. Blandish. Out with them, I beseech you.
Blandish. Whether I shall marry my friend's intended bride, or his sister.
Mrs. Blandish. Marry his intended bride?—— What, pig-iron and usury?—Your opinion of her must advance your addresses admirably.
Blandish. My lord's opinion of her will advance them; he can't bear the sight of her, and, in defiance of his uncle, Sir Clement Flint's, eagerness for the match, is running mad after an adventure, which I, who am his confidant, shall keep going till I determine.—There's news for you.
Mrs. Blandish. And his sister, Lady Emily, the alternative! The first match in England, in beauty, wit, and accomplishment.
Blandish. Pooh! A fig for her personal charms; she will bring me connexion that would soon supply fortune; the other would bring fortune enough to make connexion unnecessary.
Mrs. Blandish. And as to the certainty of success with the one or the other——