y can mean nothing else. You will
permit me to say, that my daughter cannot comply with your wishes; and
therefore, as marriage is out of the question,--[mildly] I must entreat
you, Sir, for the sake of her reputation, to forbear your visits for
the future.

_Counsellor._ How? I am astonished! Mr. Drave--

_Mr. D._ Forgive me, Sir! regard for Augusta forced me to this
unpleasant conversation.

_Counsellor._ But what objection can you have? If a marriage cannot
take place, must I for that reason avoid your house?

_Mr. D._ I fear my daughter might forget the duties of a wife, in
listening to the flatteries of a lover.

_Counsellor._ Vain excuses, Mr. Drave; mere pretexts to palliate your
hatred.

_Mr. D._ I have no hatred against you, Sir.

_Counsellor._ Oh, but I see very clearly you have: but I warrant
you----

_Mr. D._ You are not to my mind--you see I do not attempt to conceal
it.

_Counsellor._ Well, of my passion for Miss Drave I will speak no
more--but I am now obliged in honour to frequent your house.

_Mr. D._ Say you were tired of our company; I give you my word never to
contradict you.

_Counsellor._ It would be much to the credit of your house, and your
daughter.

_Mr. D._ [smiling]. I know what I venture.

_Counsellor._ You are insupportable--but take warning; remember, Sir,
to whom you speak!

_Mr. D._ [earnestly]. I remember but too well!

_Counsellor._ You may repent, Sir--you may repent very soon!

_Mr. D._ God forbid!

_Counsellor._ Sir, I give you one hour's time to atone for this
insolence, or I can shew you----

_Mr. D._ [angrily]. And I, Sir, give you one minute to leave my house!
or--[recollecting himself, and taking a key out of his socket, which he
lays upon a chair] here is the key; when you leave the room, be so good
as to lock the door. [Going.

_Counsellor._ Nay! I go, Sir! I go--but by heavens, Sir, you shall pay
for this. [Exit.

Mrs. DRAVE enters hastily.

_Mrs. D._ Good God! Drave, what have you done? the Counsellor flew down
stairs in such a fury----

_Mr. D._ A fool! I kept my temper long enough.

_Mrs. D._ [in a tone of reproach]. This is one of your usual passions.

_Mr. D._ What you call passion in me, is too often necessary to correct
the faults you fall into through supineness.

_Mrs. D._ How? what is my fault here?

_Mr. D._ Between ourselves, my dear, was not thy maternal pride too
much flattered, by seeing a crowd of lo