be agreeable, must understand how to utter fine sentiments, to breathe
soft, tender, and passionate vows; his courtship must be according to
the rules. In the first place, he should behold the fair one of whom he
becomes enamoured either at a place of worship, [Footnote: See note 15,
page 33.] or when out walking, or at some public ceremony; or else he
should be introduced to her by a relative or a friend, as if by chance,
and when he leaves her he should appear in a pensive and melancholy
mood. For some time he should conceal his passion from the object of his
love, but pay her several visits, in every one of which he ought to
introduce some gallant subject to exercise the wits of all the company.
When the day comes to make his declarations--which generally should be
contrived in some shady garden-walk while the company is at a
distance--it should be quickly followed by anger, which is shown by our
blushing, and which, for a while, banishes the lover from our presence.
He finds afterwards means to pacify us, to accustom us gradually to hear
him depict his passion, and to draw from us that confession which causes
us so much pain. After that come the adventures, the rivals who thwart
mutual inclination, the persecutions of fathers, the jealousies arising
without any foundation, complaints, despair, running away with, and its
consequences. Thus things are carried on in fashionable life, and
veritable gallantry cannot dispense with these forms. But to come out
point-blank with a proposal of marriage,--to make no love but with a
marriage-contract, and begin a novel at the wrong end! Once more,
father, nothing can be more tradesmanlike, and the mere thought of it
makes me sick at heart.

GORG. What deuced nonsense is all this? That is highflown language with
a vengeance!

CAT. Indeed, uncle, my cousin hits the nail on the head. How can we