Sir Anth. May I not flatter myself, that Miss Languish will assign what cause of dislike she can have to my son!—[Aside to Captain Absolute.] Why don’t you begin, Jack?—Speak, you puppy—speak!

Mrs. Mal. It is impossible, Sir Anthony, she can have any. She will not say she has.—[Aside to Lydia.] Answer, hussy! why don’t you answer?

Sir Anth. Then, madam, I trust that a childish and hasty predilection will be no bar to Jack’s happiness.—[Aside to Captain Absolute.] Zounds! sirrah! why don’t you speak?

Lyd. [Aside.] I think my lover seems as little inclined to conversation as myself.—How strangely blind my aunt must be!

Abs. Hem! hem! madam—hem!—[Attempts to speak, then returns to Sir Anthony.] Faith! sir, I am so confounded!— and—so—so—confused!—I told you I should be so, sir—I knew it.—The—the—tremor of my passion entirely takes away my presence of mind.

Sir Anth. But it don’t take away your voice, fool, does it?—Go up, and speak to her directly!

[Captain Absolute makes signs to Mrs. Malaprop to leave them together.

Mrs. Mal. Sir Anthony, shall we leave them together?—[Aside to Lydia.] Ah! you stubborn little vixen!

Sir Anth. Not yet, ma’am, not yet!—[Aside to Captain Absolute.] What the devil are you at? unlock your jaws, sirrah, or—

Abs. [Aside.] Now Heaven send she may be too sullen to look round!—I must disguise my voice.—[Draws near Lydia, and speaks in a low hoarse tone.] Will not Miss Languish lend an ear to the mild accents of true love? Will not—

Sir Anth. What the devil ails the fellow? why don’t you speak out?—not stand croaking like a frog in a quinsy!

Abs. The—the—excess of my awe, and my—my—modesty quite choke me!

Sir Anth. Ah! your modesty again!—I’ll tell you what, Jack, if you don’t speak out directly, and glibly too, I shall be in such a rage!—Mrs. Malaprop, I wish the lady would favour us with something more than a side-front.

[Mrs. Malaprop seems to chide Lydia.

Abs. [Aside.] So all will out, I see!—[Goes up to Lydia, speaks softly.] Be not surprised, my Lydia, suppress all surprise at present.

Lyd. [Aside.] Heavens! ’tis Beverley’s voice! Sure he can’t have imposed on Sir Anthony too!—[Looks round by degrees, then starts up.] Is this possible!—my Beverley!—how can this be?— my Beverley?

Abs. Ah! ’tis all over.

[Aside.

Sir Anth. Beverley!—the devil—Beverley!—What can the girl mean?—this is my son, Jack Absolute.

Mrs. Mal. For shame, hussy! for shame! your head runs so on that fellow, that you have him always in your eyes!—beg Captain Absolute’s pardon directly.

Lyd. I see no Captain Absolute, but my loved Beverley!