_Tiff._ [_With airs._] Sir, I don't understand you--I am not what you suppose, I assure you--Connexions indeed--I should never have thought of that--my character--my behaviour; connexions, I don't know what the word signifies. _Sir C._ [_Without._] Clifford--are you ready? _Cliff._ I am at your orders, sir. _Tiff._ [_Aside._] Deuce take this interruption! _Sir Clement._ [_Without._] I shall not wait for Mr. Alscrip any longer. _Tiff._ [_Aside._] Lud, lud, he, gives me no time to come round again. [_Runs up to him confusedly._] It's very true, sir, I would not do such a thing for the world, but you are a man of honour, and I am sure would not give bad advice to a poor girl who is but a novice--and so, sir, [_Hears SIR CLEMENT entering._] put your proposal in writing, and you may depend on having an answer. [_Runs out._ _Enter SIR CLEMENT._ _Sir C._ Well, Clifford, what do you think of her? _Cliff._ Make yourself perfectly easy, sir: This girl, when known, can make no impression on Lord Gayville's mind; and I doubt not but a silk-gown and a lottery-ticket, had they been offered as an ultimatum, would have purchased her person. _Sir C._ [_With a dry sneer._] Don't you sometimes Clifford, form erroneous opinions of people's pretensions? Interest and foolish passion inspire strange notions--as one or the other prevails, we are brought to look so low, or so high-- _Cliff._ [_With emotion._] That we are compelled to call reason and honour to our aid---- _Sir C._ And then---- _Cliff._ We lose the intemperance of our inclinations in the sense of what is right. _Sir C._ [_Aside._] Sententious impostor!--[_To him._] But to the point. _Cliff._ Sir, I would please you if I could--I am thinking of a scheme to restore Lord Gayville to his senses, without violence or injury to any one of the parties. _Sir C._ Let me hear it. _Cliff._ Why, the wench being cut short of marketing by word of mouth, desired me to write proposals. I am inclined to do so. We will show the answer to Lord Gayville, and, depend upon it, there will be character enough displayed to cure him of the sentimental part of his attachment. _Sir. C._ I like your idea--Sit down, and put it into execution immediately----[_CLIFFORD writes._]----[_To himself._] He is quick at invention--has a pretty turn at profession--A proud and peremptory show of honour would overpower prejudices. Thank Heaven, my opinions of knavery are convictions! _Cliff._ [_Writing._] I am sorry to detain you, sir.