--You love her, my lord.
LORD G. Never man more loved a woman. I am not an ill-natured man--
LADY G. But a captious, a passionate one, Lord G----. Who'd have
thought it?
LORD G. Never was there, my dear Miss Byron, such a
strangely-aggravating creature! She could not be so, if she did not
despise me.
LADY G. Fiddle-faddle, silly man! And so you said before. If you
thought so, you take the way, (don't you?) to mend the matter, by dancing
and capering about, and putting yourself into all manner of disagreeable
attitudes; and even sometimes being ready to foam at the mouth?--I told
him, Miss Byron, There he stands, let him deny it, if he can; that I
married a man with another face. Would not any other man have taken this
for a compliment to his natural undistorted face, and instantly have
pulled off the ugly mask of passion, and shewn his own?--
LORD G. You see, you see, the air, Miss Byron!--How ludicrously does
she now, even now--
LADY G. See, Miss Byron!--How captious!--Lord G---- ought to have a
termagant wife: one who could return rage for rage. Meekness is my
crime.--I cannot be put out of temper.--Meekness was never before
attributed to woman as a fault.
LORD G. Good God!--Meekness!--Good God!
LADY G. But, Harriet, do you judge on which side the grievance lies.--
Lord G---- presents me with a face for his, that I never saw him wear
before marriage: He has cheated me, therefore.
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