“I’ve been talking treason, I believe, to Miss Portman,” cried she; “for I’ve been opposing some of your opinions, Mr. Percival.”
“If you opposed them all, madam,” said Mr. Percival, “I should not think it treason.”
“Vastly polite!—But I think all our politeness hypocrisy: what d’ye say to that?”
“You know that best, madam!”
“Then I’ll go a step farther; for I’m determined you shall contradict me: I think all virtue is hypocrisy.”
“I need not contradict you, madam,” said Mr. Percival, “for the terms which you make use of contradict themselves.”
“It is my system,” pursued Mrs. Freke, “that shame is always the cause of the vices of women.”
“It is sometimes the effect,” said Mr. Percival; “and, as cause and effect are reciprocal, perhaps you may, in some instances, be right.”
“Oh! I hate qualifying arguers—plump assertion or plump denial for me: you sha’n’t get off so. I say shame is the cause of all women’s vices.”
“False shame, I suppose you mean?” said Mr. Percival.