VAN ROUGH. Why, that is the way your mother us'd to talk. "My will is yours, my dear Mr. Van Rough, my will is yours;" but she took special care to have her own way, though, for all that. MARIA. Do not reflect upon my mother's memory, sir-- VAN ROUGH. Why not, Mary, why not? She kept me from speaking my mind all her _life_, and do you think she shall henpeck me now she is _dead_ too? Come, come; don't go to sniveling; be a good girl, and mind the main chance. I'll see you well settled in the world. MARIA. I do not doubt your love, sir, and it is my duty to obey you. I will endeavour to make my duty and inclination go hand in hand. VAN ROUGH. Well, well, Mary; do you be a good girl, mind the main chance, and never mind inclination. Why, do you know that I have been down in the cellar this very morning to examine a pipe of Madeira which I purchased the week you were born, and mean to tap on your wedding day?--That pipe cost me fifty pounds sterling. It was well worth sixty pounds; but I over-reach'd Ben Bulkhead, the supercargo: I'll tell you the whole story. You must know that-- _Enter_ SERVANT. SERVANT. Sir, Mr. Transfer, the broker, is below. [_Exit._ VAN ROUGH. Well, Mary, I must go. Remember, and be a good girl, and mind the main chance. [_Exit._ MARIA [_alone_]. How deplorable is my situation! How distressing for a daughter to find her heart militating with her filial duty! I know my father loves me tenderly; why then do I reluctantly obey him? [Heaven knows! with what reluctance I should oppose the will of a parent, or set an example of filial disobedience;] at a parent's command, I could wed awkwardness and deformity. [Were the heart of my husband good, I would so magnify his good qualities with the eye of conjugal affection, that the defects of his person and manners should be lost in the emanation of his virtues.] At a father's command, I could embrace poverty. Were the poor man my husband, I would learn resignation to my lot; I would enliven our frugal meal with good humour, and chase away misfortune from our cottage with a smile. At a father's command, I could almost submit to what every female heart knows to be the most mortifying, to marry a weak man, and blush at my husband's folly in every company I visited. But to marry a depraved wretch, whose only virtue is a polished exterior; [who is actuated by the unmanly ambition of conquering the defenceless; whose heart, insensible to the emotions of patriotism, dilates at the plaudits of every unthinking girl;] whose laurels are the sighs and tears of the miserable victims of his specious behaviour--Can he, who has no regard for the peace and happiness of other families, ever have a due regard for the peace and happiness of his own? Would to heaven that my father were not so hasty in his temper! Surely, if I were to state my reasons for declining this match, he would not compel me to marry a man,--whom,