To sit, like a fool, and hear myself abused—A pretty figure I make! Sir Charles Grandison, let me tell you, that you are the first man that ever treated me like a fool.
Excuse, madam, a little innocent raillery—I met you both, with a discomposure on your countenances. I was the occasion of it, by the letter I sent to Sir Harry. I will not leave you discomposed. I think you a woman of sense; and my request is of such a nature, that the granting of it will confirm to me, that you are so—But you have granted it—
I have not.
That's charmingly said—My lady will not undervalue the compliment she is inclined to make you, Sir Harry. The moment you ask for her compliance, she will not refuse to your affection, what she makes a difficulty to grant to the entreaty of an almost stranger.
Let it, let it be so! Lady Beauchamp, said Sir Harry: and he clasped his arms about her as she sat—
There never was such a man as this Sir Charles Grandison in the world!—
It is a contrivance between you, Sir Harry—
Dear Lady Beauchamp, resumed I, depreciate not your compliment to Sir Harry. There wanted not contrivance, I dare to hope, (if there did, it had it not,) to induce Lady Beauchamp to do a right, a kind, an obliging thing.
Let me, my dearest Lady Beauchamp, said Sir Harry—Let me request—
At your request, Sir Harry—But not at Sir Charles's.
This is noble, said I. I thank you, madam, for the absent youth. Both husband and son will think themselves favoured by you; and the more, as I am sure, that you will by the cheerful welcome, which you will give the young man, shew, that it is a sincere compliment that you have made to Sir Harry.