Mrs. M. What business have you, miss, with preference and aversion? They don't become a young woman; and you ought to know that, as both always wear off, 'tis safest, in matrimony, to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as if he'd been a blackamoor, and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made; and, when it pleased heaven to release me from him, 'tis unknown what tears I shed!
Sir A. He-e-m!
Mrs. M. But, suppose we were going to give you another choice, will you promise us to give up this Beverley?
Lyd. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words.
Mrs. M. Take yourself to your room! You are fit company for nothing but your own ill humors.
Lyd. Willingly, ma'am; I can not change for the worse. [Exit.
Mrs. M. There's a little intricate hussy for you!
Sir. A. It is not to be wondered at, ma'am; all that is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed your niece's maid coming forth from a circulating library; she had a book in each hand—they were half-bound volumes, with marble covers. From that moment, I guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress!
Mrs. M. Those are vile places, indeed!