MARLOW. I never gave her the slightest cause.
HARDCASTLE. Well, well, I like modesty in its place well enough. But this is over-acting, young gentleman. You may be open. Your father and I will like you all the better for it.
MARLOW. May I die, sir, if I ever——
HARDCASTLE. I tell you, she don’t dislike you; and as I’m sure you like her——
MARLOW. Dear sir—I protest, sir——
HARDCASTLE. I see no reason why you should not be joined as fast as the parson can tie you.
MARLOW. But hear me, sir—
HARDCASTLE. Your father approves the match, I admire it; every moment’s delay will be doing mischief. So—
MARLOW. But why won’t you hear me? By all that’s just and true, I never gave Miss Hardcastle the slightest mark of my attachment, or even the most distant hint to suspect me of affection. We had but one interview, and that was formal, modest, and uninteresting.
HARDCASTLE. (Aside.) This fellow’s formal modest impudence is beyond bearing.