tch in the laughing world is her boundless vanity and spirits in
the exertion of those talents, which often render her much more ridiculous
than the most whimsical of the characters she exposes--[_in a tone of
friendly affection._] and is _this_ a woman fit to make _my_ happiness?--
_this_ the partner that Sidney would recommend to me for life?--to _you_,
who best know me, I appeal.

_Sid_. Why, Charles, it is a delicate point,--unfit for _me_ to
determine--besides, your father has set his heart upon the match.

_Eger_. [_Impatiently._] All that I know:--but still I ask and insist upon
your candid judgment,--is she the kind of woman that you think could
possibly contribute to my happiness? I beg you will give me an explicit
answer.

_Sid_. The subject is disagreeable;--but, since I must speak,--I do not
think she is.

_Eger_. [_a start of friendly rapture._] I know you do not; and I am sure
you never will advise the match.

_Sid_. I never did. I never will.

_Eger_. [_With a start of joy._] You make me happy,--which I assure you I
never could be with your judgment against me in this point.

_Sid_. And yet, Charles, give me leave to observe, that Lady Rodolpha,
with all her ridiculous and laughing vanity, has a goodness of heart, and
a kind of vivacity that not only entertains,--but upon seeing her two or
three times, she improves upon you; and when her torrent of spirits
abates, and she condescends to converse gravely--you really like her.

_Eger_. Why ay! she is sprightly, good humoured, and, though whimsical,
and often too high in her colouring of characters, and in the trifling
business of the idle world,--yet I think she has principles, and a good
heart,--[_with a glow of conjugal tenderness._] but in a partner for life,
Sidney, (you know your own precept, and your own judgment)--affection,
capricious in its nature, must have something even in the external
manners,--nay in the very mode, not only of beauty, but of virtue itself--
which both heart and judgment must approve, or our happiness in that
delicate point cannot be lasting.

_Sid_. I grant it.

_Eger_. And that mode,--that amiable essential I never can meet--but in
Constantia. You sigh.

_Sid_. No. I only wish that Constantia had a fortune equal to yours. But
pray, Charles, suppose I had been so indiscreet as to have agreed to marry
you to Constantia--would _she_ have consented, think you?

_Eger_. That I cannot say positively,--but I suppose so