Cecilia, somewhat ashamed of this speech, looked towards young Delvile, in whom it occasioned the first smile she had seen that evening. “Been looking about for you!” continued Briggs, nodding sagaciously; “believe I've found one will do. Guess what I mean;--£100,0000--hay?--what say to that? any thing better at the west end of the town?” “£100,000!” cried Morrice, “and pray, Sir, who may this be?” “Not you, Mr jackanapes! sure of that. A'n't quite positive he'll have you, neither. Think he will, though.” “Pray; Sir, what age is he?” cried the never daunted Morrice. “Why about--let's see--don't know, never heard,--what signifies?” “But, Sir, he's an old man, I suppose, by being so rich?” “Old? no, no such thing; about my own standing.” “What, Sir, and do you propose him for an husband to Miss Beverley?” “Why not? know ever a one warmer? think Master Harrel will get her a better? or t'other old Don, in the grand square?” “If you please, Sir,” cried Cecilia hastily, “we will talk of this matter another time.” “No, pray,” cried young Delvile, who could not forbear laughing, “let it be discussed now.” “Hate 'em,” continued Mr Briggs, “hate 'em both! one spending more than he's worth, cheated and over-reached by fools, running into gaol to please a parcel of knaves; t'other counting nothing but uncles and grandfathers, dealing out fine names instead of cash, casting up more cousins than guineas--” Again Cecilia endeavoured to silence him, but, only chucking her under the chin, he went on, “Ay, ay, my little duck, never mind 'em; one of 'em i'n't worth a penny, and t'other has nothing in his pockets but lists of the defunct. What good will come of that? would not give twopence a dozen for 'em! A poor set of grandees, with nothing but a tie-wig for their portions!” Cecilia, unable to bear this harangue in the presence of young Delvile, who, however, laughed it off with a very good grace, arose with an intention to retreat, which being perceived by Sir Robert Floyer, who had attended to this dialogue with haughty contempt, he came forward, and said, “now then, madam, may I have the honour of your hand?” “No, Sir,” answered Cecilia, “I am engaged.” “Engaged again?” cried he, with the air of a man who thought himself much injured. “Glad of it, glad of it!” said Mr Briggs; “served very right! have nothing to say to him, my chick!” “Why not, Sir?” cried Sir Robert, with an imperious look. “Sha'n't have her, sha'n't have her! can tell you that; won't consent; know you of old.” “And what do you know of me, pray Sir?” “No good, no good; nothing to say to you; found fault with my nose! ha'n't forgot it.” At this moment Mr Marriot came to claim his partner, who, very willing to quit this scene of wrangling and vulgarity, immediately attended him. Miss Larolles, again flying up to her, said “O my dear, we are all expiring to know who that creature is! I never saw such a horrid fright in my life!”