M. My time of life?—Dear heart!—What is my time of life, pray?
D. Not old, Madam; and that you are not, may be your danger!
As I hope to live (my dear) my mother smiled, and looked not displeased with me.
M. Why, indeed, child—why, indeed, I must needs say—and then I should choose to do nothing (forward as you are sometimes) to hurt you.
D. Why, as to that, Madam, I can't expect that you should deprive yourself of any satisfaction—
M. Satisfaction, my dear!—I don't say it would be a satisfaction—but could I do any thing that would benefit you, it would perhaps be an inducement to hold one conference upon the subject.
D. My fortune already will be more considerable than my match, if I am to have Mr. Hickman.
M. Why so?—Mr. Hickman has fortune enough to entitle him to your's.
D. If you think so, that's enough.
M. Not but I should think the worse of myself, if I desired anybody's death; but I think, as you say, Mr. Antony Harlowe is a healthy man, and bids fair for a long life.