Har. The man indeed wears his clothes fashionably, and has a pretty negligent way with him, very courtly and much affected; he bows, and talks, and smiles so agreeably as he thinks.

Busy. I never saw anything so genteel.

Har. Varnished over with good breeding many a blockhead makes a tolerable show.

Busy. I wonder you do not like him.

Har. I think I might be brought to endure him, and that is all a reasonable woman should expect in a husband; but there is duty i’ the case—and like the haughty Merab, I find much aversion in my stubborn mind, Which is bred by being promised and design’d.

Busy. I wish you do not design your own ruin! I partly guess your inclinations, madam,—that Mr. Dorimant—

Har. Leave your prating, and sing some foolish song or other.

Busy. I will; the song you love so well ever since you saw Mr. Dorimant.

Song

Har. Shall I be paid down by a covetous parent for a purchase? I need no land; no, I’ll lay myself out all in love. It is decreed—

Enter Young Bellair.

Y. Bell. What generous resolution are you making, madam?

Har. Only to be disobedient, sir.

Y. Bell. Let me join hands with you in that.

Har. With all my heart; I never thought I should have given you mine so willingly. Here I, Harriet—

Y. Bell. And I, Harry—

Har. Do solemnly protest—

Y. Bell. And vow—

Har. That I with you—

Y. Bell. And I with you—

Both. Will never marry.

Har. A match!

Y. Bell. And no match! How do you like this indifference now?

Har. You expect I should take it ill, I see.