Loveyet. I will withdraw, Miss Trueman;—My love—friendship, I would say, though it wishes to afford you happiness, and participate in your troubles, does not presume to intrude on the private conversation Mr. Loveyet wishes.
Harriet. I dare say your presence is no restraint, sir.
Old Loveyet. I don't know that, madam: pray, who is the gentleman?
Harriet. The gentleman is my very particular friend, sir.
Old Loveyet. By my body, here is rare work going on.—[Aside.]—Well, madam, as the gentleman is your very particular friend; and as his love—friendship, I mean, is so great, that you dare to entrust all your secrets with him; I shall acquaint you, that, as you and my son have long entertained a partiality for each other, and being desirous to fulfill all my engagements, as well as to make him happy, I have wrote for him to come and conclude the marriage; but, for very good reasons, I have this day determined to forbid the bans; and Mr. Trueman says, he is very willing too.
Loveyet. Hah!—what can all this mean?
[Aside.
Old Loveyet. You must know, madam, your father has us'd me very ill; and—to be plain with you, madam, your familiarity with this person, convinces me you wou'd have play'd the fool with my son, without my breaking the match. Ugh, ugh.
Loveyet. The old gentleman imagines I am going to cut myself out, it seems.
[Aside to Harriet.