Harriet. You do not know who this is, sir, or you would not put any improper constructions on the friendly freedom you have observ'd between us.
Loveyet. True; and, therefore, you need not be concerned at what he says.—Since he has made this unlucky resolution, he must not know who I am.
[Aside to Harriet.
Old Loveyet. How well she dissembles!—Friendly freedom,—a pretty term that, for the wanton hussy. [Aside.]—I wish Charles was here now; he wou'd acknowledge his father's kindness in preventing a match, which, I am sure, would end in sorrow and disappointment.
Loveyet. I doubt that much.—This parent of mine is a singular character.
[Aside to Harriet.
Harriet. It is necessary you should be made acquainted with some of his oddities: his most striking peculiarity is a desire to be thought younger than he is; and, I dare say, some remark of my father, respecting his age, is the only cause of his present ill humour.
Old Loveyet. Look how they whisper!—well, she is the most brazen coquette I ever knew!—Yes, yes, now her scandalous conduct is glaring enough. [Aside.]—I wish you and your very particular friend, a good day, madam.
[Exit.
Harriet. I think our troubles increase fast: how unlucky, that this dispute should happen at the very crisis of your arrival;—an event which we fondly expected would be attended with the most pleasing circumstances.