M. Provoking creature!

D. I have but one request to make to you, Madam.

M. A dutiful one, I suppose.  What is it, pray?

D. That if you marry, I may be permitted to live single.

M. Perverse creature, I’m sure!

D. How can I expect, Madam, that you should refuse such terms?  Ten thousand pounds!—­At the least ten thousand pounds!—­A very handsome proposal!—­So many fine things too, to give you one by one!—­Dearest Madam, forgive me!—­I hope it is not yet so far gone, that rallying this man will be thought want of duty to you.

M. Your rallying of him, and your reverence to me, it is plain, have one source.

D. I hope not, Madam.  But ten thousand pounds——­

M. Is no unhandsome proposal.

D. Indeed I think so.  I hope, Madam, you will not be behind-hand with him in generosity.

M. He won’t be ten thousand pounds the better for me, if he survive me.

D. No, Madam; he can’t expect that, as you have a daughter, and as he is a bachelor, and has not a child!—­Poor old soul!

M. Old soul, Nancy!—­And thus to call him for being a bachelor, not having a child!—­Does this become you?

D. Not old soul for that, Madam—­but half the sum; five thousand pounds; you can’t engage for less, Madam.

M. That sum has your approbation then? [Looking as if she’d be even with me].

D. As he leaves it to your generosity, Madam, to reward his kindness to you, it can’t be less.—­Do, dear Madam, permit me, without incurring your displeasure, to call him poor old soul again.

M. Never was such a whimsical creature!—­[turning away to hide her involuntary smile, for I believe I looked very archly; at least I intended to do so]—­I hate that wicked sly look.  You give yourself very free airs—­don’t you?

D. I snatched her hand, and kissed it—­My dear Mamma, be not angry with your girl!—­You have told me, that you was very lively formerly.

M. Formerly!  Good lack!—­But were I to encourage his proposals, you may be sure, that for Mr. Hickman’s sake, as well as your’s, I should make a wise agreement.

D. You have both lived to years of prudence, Madam.

M. Yes, I suppose I am an old soul too.

D. He also is for making a wise agreement, or hinting at one, at least.

M. Well, the short and the long I suppose is this:  I have not your consent to marry.

D. Indeed, Madam, you have not my wishes to marry.

M. Let me tell you, that if prudence consists in wishing well to one’s self, I see not but the young flirts are as prudent as the old souls.

D. Dear Madam, would you blame me, if to wish you not to marry Mr.
Antony Harlowe, is to wish well to myself?

M. You are mighty witty.  I wish you were as dutiful.

D. I am more dutiful, I hope, than witty; or I should be a fool as well as a saucebox.