Har. I would not compare her to any thing so trifling and insipid.
Sir Loft. She has one advantage which fashionable beauty seldom possesses.
Har. What do you mean?
Sir Loft. A large fortune.
Har. (looking disappointed.) Poo, it is not the heiress I mean.
Sir Loft. Is it t'other girl you are raving about, she is showy at a distance, I admit, but as awkward as a dairy maid when near you; and her tongue goes as fast as if she were repeating a pater noster.
Har. What, do you think I am silly enough to be caught with that magpie?
Sir Loft. Who is it then, Harwood? I see no body with Miss Withrington but Miss Eston, and that poor little creature her cousin.
Har. Good god! what a contemptible perversion of taste do interest and fashion create! But it is all affectation. (Looking contemptuously at him.)
Sir Loft. (smiling contemptuously in return.) Ha, ha, ha! I see how it is with you, Harwood, and I beg pardon too. The lady is very charming, I dare say; upon honour I never once looked in her face. She is a dependant relation of Miss Withrington's, I believe: now I never take notice of such girls, for if you do it once they expect you to do it again. I dont choose that every little creature should say she is acquainted with Sir Loftus Prettyman; I am sparing of my attentions,