persuade my daughter to no one--but from you Mr. Sec--I would dissuade
her! A lover who calls upon the father for help--with permission--is not
worth a pinch of snuff. If he has anything in him, he'll be ashamed to
take that old-fashioned way of making his deserts known to his
sweetheart. If he hasn't the courage, why he's a milksop, and no Louisas
were born for the like of him. No! he must carry on his commerce with
the daughter behind the father's back. He must manage so to win her
heart, that she would rather wish both father and mother at Old Harry
than give him up--or that she come herself, fall at her father's feet,
and implore either for death on the rack, or the only one of her heart.
That's the fellow for me! that I call love! and he who can't bring
matters to that pitch with a petticoat may--stick the goose feather in
his cap.

WORM (seizes hat and stick and hurries out of the room). Much obliged,
Mr. Miller!

MILLER (going after him slowly). For what? for what? You haven't taken
anything, Mr. Secretary! (Comes back.) He won't hear, and off he's
gone. The very sight of that quill-driver is like poison and brimstone
to me. An ugly, contraband knave, smuggled into the world by some lewd
prank of the devil--with his malicious little pig's eyes, foxy hair, and
nut-cracker chin, just as if Nature, enraged at such a bungled piece of
goods, had seized the ugly monster by it, and flung him aside. No!
rather than throw away my daughter on a vagabond like him, she may--God
forgive me!

MRS MILLER. The wretch!--but you'll be made to keep a clean tongue in
your head!