Helen. Not to me, I assure you, papa.
Sir W. Our estates join so charmingly to one another.
Helen. But sure that’s no reason we should be joined to one another.
Sir W. But their contiguity seems to invite a union by a marriage between you.
Helen. Then pray, papa, let the stewards marry the estates and give me a separate maintenance.
Sir. W. Helen, Helen, I see you are bent on disobedience to my lady Worret’s wishes. Zounds! you don’t see me disobedient to her wishes; but I know whereabouts your objection lies. That giddy, dissipated young fellow, his cousin Charles, the son of sir Rowland Austencourt, has filled your head with nonsensical notions and chimeras of happiness. Thank Heaven, however, he’s far enough off at sea.
Helen. And I think, sir, that because a man is fighting our battles abroad, he ought not to be the less dear to those whom his courage enables to live in tranquillity at home.
Sir W. That’s very true: (aside) but I have an unanswerable objection to all you can say. Lord Austencourt is rich, and Charles is a beggar. Besides sir Rowland himself prefers lord Austencourt.
Helen. More shame for him. His partial feelings to his nephew, and unnatural disregard of his son, have long since made me hate him. In short, you are for money, and choose lord Austencourt: I am for love, and prefer his poor cousin.
Sir W. Then, once for all, as my lady Worret must be obeyed, I no longer consult you on the subject, and it only remains for you to retain the affection of an indulgent father, by complying with my will (I mean my wife’s) or to abandon my protection. [Exit.