I put not this question as a puzzler, a bamboozler, but purely for information; and that I may make my Sir Charles susceptible of the generous (may I say generous?) flame, and yet know what he is about, yet be a reasonable man.

Harriet’s passion is founded in gratitude for relief given her in a great exigence.  But the man who rescued her is not, it seems, to have such a word as gratitude in his head, in return for her love.

I repeat, that I will please you if I can; please you, Miss Mulso, I here mean (before I meant not you particularly, my dear, but your sex), in Sir Charles’s character; and I sincerely declare, that I would rather form his character to your liking, than to the liking of three parts out of four of the persons I am acquainted with.

You are one of my best girls, and best judges.  Of whom have I the opinion that I have of Miss Mulso on these nice subjects?—­I ask therefore repeatedly for your definition of the passion which you dignify by the word noble; and from which you exclude everything mean, little, or selfish.

And you really think it marvellous that a young woman should find a man of exalted merit to be in love with?  Why, truly, I am half of your mind; for how should people find what, in general, they do not seek?  Yet what good creatures are many girls!  They will be in love for all that.

Why, yes, to be sure, they would be glad of a Sir Charles Grandison, and prefer him even to a Lovelace, were he capable of being terribly in love.  And yet, I know one excellent girl who is afraid ’that ladies in general will think him too wise’.—­Dear, dear girls, help me to a few monkey-tricks to throw into his character, in order to shield him from contempt for his wisdom.

‘It is one of my maxims,’ you say, ’that people even of bad hearts will admire and love people of good ones.’  Very true!—­and yet admiration and love, in the sense before us, do not always shake hands, except at parting, and with an intention never to meet again.  I have known women who professed to admire good men, but have chosen to marry men—­not so good, when lovers of both sorts have tendered themselves to their acceptance.  There is something very pretty in the sound of the word wild, added to the word fellow; and good sense is a very grateful victim to be sacrificed on the altar of love.  Fervour and extravagance in expressions will please.  How shall a woman, who, moreover, loves to be admired, know a man’s heart, but from his lips?—­Let him find flattery, and she will find credulity.  Sweet souls! can they be always contradicting?

You believe it is not in human nature, however depraved, to prefer evil to good in another, whatever people may do in themselves.  Why, no one would really think so, did not experience convince us that many, very many young women, in the article of marriage, though not before thought to be very depraved, are taken by this green sickness of the soul, and prefer dirt and rubbish to wholesome diet.  The result of the matter is this, with very many young women:  they will admire a good man, but they will marry a bad one.  Are not rakes pretty fellows?