Aunt. A parcel of improbable lies.
Niece. Indeed, madam, your raillery is coarse——
Aunt. Fit only to corrupt young girls, and fill their heads with a thousand foolish dreams of I don't know what.
Niece. Nay, now, madam, you grow extravagant.
Aunt. What I say is not to vex, but advise you for your good.
Niece. What, to burn Philocles, Artaxeres, Oroondates, and the rest of the heroic lovers, and take my country booby, cousin Humphry, for a husband!
Aunt. Oh dear, oh dear, Biddy! Pray, good dear, learn to act and speak like the rest of the world; come, come, you shall marry your cousin and live comfortably.
Niece. Live comfortably! What kind of life is that? A great heiress live comfortably! Pray, aunt, learn to raise your ideas—What is, I wonder, to live comfortably?
Aunt. To live comfortably is to live with prudence and frugality, as we do in Lombard Street.
Niece. As we do! That's a fine life, indeed, with one servant of each sex. Let's see how many things our coachman is good for—He rubs down his horses, lays the cloth, whets the knives, and sometimes makes beds.