Chapter 5

The Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH to LORD DARCEY.

_Bath_.

Confound your friendships!--_Friendship_ indeed!--What! up head and ears in love, and not know it.--So it is necessary for every woman you think capable of friendship, to have fine eyes, fine hair, a bewitching smile, and a neck delicately turn'd.--Have not I the highest opinion of my cousin Dolly's sincerity?--Do I not think her very capable of _friendship?_--Yet, poor soul, her eyes are planted so deep, it requires good ones to discover she has any.--Such a hand, George!--Such a hand, Darcey!--Why, Lady Dorothy too has hands; I am often enough squeez'd by them:--though hard as a horse's hoof, and the colour of tanned leather, I hold her capable of _friendship_.--Neck she has none,--smile she has none! yet need I the determination of another, to tell me whether my regard for her proceeds from love or _friendship?_--Awake,--Awake, Darcey,--Awake:--Have you any value for your own peace?--have you any for that of Miss Warley's? If so, leave Barford Abbey.--Should you persist in loving her, for love her I know you do?--Should the quiet of such an amiable woman as you describe be at stake? To deal plainly, I will come down and propose the thing myself.--No sword,--no pistol. I mean not for _myself_, but one whose happiness is dear to me as my _own_.

Suppose your estate is but two thousand a-year, are you so fond of shew and equipage, to barter real felicity for baubles?--I am angry,--so angry, that it would not grieve me to see you leading to the altar an old hobbling dowager without a tooth.--Be more yourself,

And I am yours,

MOLESWORTH.