LADY G. You need not, my lord: she knows as much as she can know, already; except the fine colourings be added to the woeful tale, that your unbridled spirit can give it.—Have you my long letter about you, Harriet?
LORD G. And could you, madam, have the heart to write—
LADY G. Why, my lord, do you mince the matter? For heart, say courage. You may speak as plain in Miss Byron's presence, as you did before she came: I know what you mean.
LORD G. Let it be courage, then.
HAR. Fie, fie, Lord G——! Fie, fie, Lady G——! What lengths do you run! If I understand the matter right, you have both, like children, been at play, till you have fallen out.
LORD G. If, Miss Byron, you know the truth, and can blame me—
HAR. I blame you only, my lord, for being in a passion. You see, my lady is serene: she keeps her temper: she looks as if she wanted to be friends with you.
LORD G. O that cursed serenity!—When my soul is torn by a whirlwind—
LADY G. A good tragedy rant!—But, Harriet, you are mistaken: My Lord G—— is a very passionate man. So humble, so—what shall I call it? before marriage—Did not the man see what a creature I was?—To bear with me, when he had no obligation to me; and not now, when he has the highest—A miserable sinking!—O Harriet, Harriet! Never, never marry!
HAR. Dear Lady G——, you know in your own heart you are wrong—Indeed you are wrong—