M. Is no unhandsome proposal.
D. Indeed I think so. I hope, Madam, you will not be behind-hand with him in generosity.
M. He won't be ten thousand pounds the better for me, if he survive me.
D. No, Madam; he can't expect that, as you have a daughter, and as he is a bachelor, and has not a child!—Poor old soul!
M. Old soul, Nancy!—And thus to call him for being a bachelor, not having a child!—Does this become you?
D. Not old soul for that, Madam—but half the sum; five thousand pounds; you can't engage for less, Madam.
M. That sum has your approbation then? [Looking as if she'd be even with me].
D. As he leaves it to your generosity, Madam, to reward his kindness to you, it can't be less.—Do, dear Madam, permit me, without incurring your displeasure, to call him poor old soul again.
M. Never was such a whimsical creature!—[turning away to hide her involuntary smile, for I believe I looked very archly; at least I intended to do so]—I hate that wicked sly look. You give yourself very free airs—don't you?
D. I snatched her hand, and kissed it—My dear Mamma, be not angry with your girl!—You have told me, that you was very lively formerly.