Loveyet. You wrong me much, madam:—some tattling gossip or designing knave, has whispered some falsehood to my prejudice;—probably my rival,—Mr. Worthnought.
Harriet. If you have come here with a design to use me ill, sir, I beg you will tell me so, and then I shall act accordingly.
Loveyet. Your actions accord very illy with your professions, I think, madam.
Harriet. Your duplicity, sir, both in word and action, justifies my retorting that ungenerous accusation.
Loveyet. I entreat you to believe me, Miss Harriet, when I say, I am unconscious of having done anything I ought to be ashamed of, since my arrival: I am so confident of this, that the circulation of a malicious rumour, however dishonourable to me, would give me little disquiet, did I not reflect, that it is the object of Harriet's credulity;—a reflection, that is the source of real unhappiness to me:—be kind then, Harriet, and tell me wherein I am guilty;—obscurity in a matter so interesting, gives more torture to the mind, than the most unwelcome truth.
Harriet. He must be sincere. [Aside.]—Your request shall be comply'd with, sir.—The principal offence you are charged with, is your having been smitten by the lady, on whom you have bestowed such liberal commendation;—be that as it may, I heard Mr. Loveyet talk of such a match:—I believe it will require a more able advocate than yourself, to defend this cause.
Loveyet. Suppose I assure you, on the sacred honour of a gentleman, that what you have heard is false;—suppose I add the more important sanction of an oath, to seal the truth.
Harriet. I will save you that trouble:—you have an advocate here, which has already gained your cause.
Loveyet. Oh, Harriet, you are too good!—Conscious as I am of the rectitude of my conduct, as it respects my Harriet;—sure as I am of not deserving your displeasure, I still feel myself unworthy of such matchless goodness.
Harriet. You say too much; and compel me to tell you that you merit my highest esteem.