Ang. I know what you mean, Madam, and how kind you are to me; but it may be hoped that your advice may not be fortunate enough to be followed.
Bel. That is because well-brought-up and good children, like you, scorn to be obedient to the will of their fathers. Obedience was all very well in former times.
Ang. The duty of a daughter has its limits, Madam, and neither reason nor law extend it to all things.
Bel. Which means that your thoughts are all in favour of marriage, but that you will choose a husband for yourself.
Ang. If my father will not give me a husband I like, at least I beseech him not to force me to marry one I can never love.
Arg. Gentlemen, I beg your pardon for all this.
Ang. We all have our own end in marrying. For my part, as I only want a husband that I can love sincerely, and as I intend to consecrate my whole life to him, I feel bound, I confess, to be cautious. There are some who marry simply to free themselves from the yoke of their parents, and to be at liberty to do all they like. There are others, Madam, who see in marriage only a matter of mere interest; who marry only to get a settlement, and to enrich themselves by the death of those they marry. They pass without scruple from husband to husband, with an eye to their possessions. These, no doubt, Madam, are not so difficult to satisfy, and care little what the husband is like.
Bel. You are very full of reasoning to-day. I wonder what you mean by this.
Ang. I, Madam? What can I mean but what I say?
Bel. You are such a simpleton, my dear, that one can hardly bear with you.