Miss Rich. I fear, sir, he's absent now; or such a declaration would have come most properly from himself.
Croaker. Himself, madam! He would die before he could make such a confession; and if he had not a channel for his passion through me, it would ere now have drowned his understanding.
Miss Rich. I must grant, sir, there are attractions in modest diffidence, above the force of words. A silent address is the genuine eloquence of sincerity.
Croaker. Madam, he has forgot to speak any other language; silence is become his mother-tongue.
Miss Rich. And it must be confessed, sir, it speaks very powerful in his favour. And yet, I shall be thought too forward in making such a confession; shan't I, Mr. Leontine?
Leont. Confusion! my reserve will undo me. But, if modesty attracts her, impudence may disgust her. I'll try. (Aside.) Don't imagine from my silence, madam, that I want a due sense of the honour and happiness intended me. My father, madam, tells me, your humble servant is not totally indifferent to you. He admires you; I adore you; and when we come together, upon my soul I believe we shall be the happiest couple in all St. James's.
Miss Rich. If I could flatter myself, you thought as you speak, sir—
Leont. Doubt my sincerity, madam? By your dear self I swear. Ask the brave if they desire glory, ask cowards if they covet safety—
Croaker. Well, well, no more questions about it.
Leont. Ask the sick if they long for health, ask misers if they love money, ask—