Sir J. Bev. How! Do you think he is married to her, or designs to marry her?
Humph. I can say nothing to the latter; but he says he can marry no one without your consent while you are living.
Sir J. Bev. If he said so much, I know he scorns to break his word with me.
Humph. I am sure of that.
Sir J. Bev. You are sure of that—well! that's some comfort. Then I have nothing to do but to see the bottom of this matter during this present ruffle—Oh, Humphry——
Humph. You are not ill, I hope, sir.
Sir J. Bev. Yes, a man is very ill that's in a very ill-humour. To be a father is to be in care for one whom you oftener disoblige than please by that very care—Oh! that sons could know the duty to a father before they themselves are fathers—But, perhaps, you'll say now that I am one of the happiest fathers in the world; but, I assure you, that of the very happiest is not a condition to be envied.
Humph. Sir, your pain arises, not from the thing itself, but your particular sense of it. You are overfond, nay, give me leave to say, you are unjustly apprehensive from your fondness. My master Bevil never disobliged you, and he will, I know he will, do everything you ought to expect.
Sir J. Bev. He won't take all this money with this girl—For ought I know, he will, forsooth, have so much moderation as to think he ought not to force his liking for any consideration.
Humph. He is to marry her, not you; he is to live with her, not you, sir.