CHARLES.
No; we can drink tea here, and return home when it clears up.
EMILIA.
That is not so pleasant. I wish it was fair now—I want to have a ride.
CHARLES.
You wish it was dry weather to pursue your ride to please yourself: and our neighbour, the farmer, wished this morning for rain, because the plants and grass are almost withered by the drought. Whose wish is most rational?
WILLIAM.
The farmer’s, I think.
CHARLES.
Every day there are some parties of pleasure, and could the selfish wish for fair weather prevail, our fields would soon lose their verdure, and the corn cease to swell, till it becomes a laughing image of plenty. The fruits would drop dry on the ground, and the flowers no longer perfume the air. You will see how green every thing will look, and how sweet they will smell as we return home.