CROAKER. Himself, madam! He would die before he could make such a confession; and if he had not a channel for his passion through me, it would ere now have drowned his understanding. MISS RICH. I must grant, sir, there are attractions in modest diffidence, above the force of words. A silent address is the genuine eloquence of sincerity. CROAKER. Madam, he has forgot to speak any other language; silence is become his mother-tongue. MISS RICH. And it must be confessed, sir, it speaks very powerful in his favour. And yet, I shall be thought too forward in making such a confession; shan't I, Mr. Leontine? LEONT. Confusion! my reserve will undo me. But, if modesty attracts her, impudence may disgust her. I'll try. (_Aside._) Don't imagine from my silence, madam, that I want a due sense of the honour and happiness intended me. My father, madam, tells me, your humble servant is not totally indifferent to you. He admires you; I adore you; and when we come together, upon my soul I believe we shall be the happiest couple in all St. James's. MISS RICH. If I could flatter myself, you thought as you speak, sir— LEONT. Doubt my sincerity, madam? By your dear self I swear. Ask the brave if they desire glory, ask cowards if they covet safety— CROAKER. Well, well, no more questions about it. LEONT. Ask the sick if they long for health, ask misers if they love money, ask— CROAKER. Ask a fool if he can talk nonsense! What's come over the boy? What signifies asking, when there's not a soul to give you an answer? If you would ask to the purpose, ask this lady's consent to make you happy. MISS RICH. Why indeed, sir, his uncommon ardour almost compels me, forces me, to comply, And yet I am afraid he'll despise a conquest gained with too much ease; won't you Mr. Leontine? LEONT. Confusion! (_Aside._) O, by no means, madam, by no means. And yet, madam, you talked of force. There is nothing I would avoid so much as compulsion in a thing of this kind. No, madam; I will still be generous, and leave you at liberty to refuse. CROAKER. But I tell you, sir, the lady is not at liberty. It's a match. You see she says nothing. Silence gives consent. LEONT. But, sir, she talked of force. Consider, sir, the cruelty of constraining her inclinations. CROAKER. But I say there's no cruelty. Don't you know, blockhead, that girls have always a round-about way of saying Yes before company? So get you both gone together into the next room, and hang him that interrupts the tender explanation. Get you gone, I say; I'll not hear a word. LEONT. But, sir, I must beg leave to insist— CROAKER. Get off, you puppy, or I'll beg leave to insist upon knocking you down. Stupid whelp! But I don't wonder; the boy takes entirely after his mother. [_Exeunt_ MISS RICH. _and_ LEONT. _Enter_ MRS. CROAKER. MRS. CROAKER. Mr. Croaker, I bring you something, my dear, that I believe will make you smile.