VAL. Undoubtedly; this admits of no contradiction. It is true that
your daughter might represent to you that marriage is a more serious
affair than people are apt to believe; that the happiness or misery of
a whole life depends on it, and that an engagement which is to last
till death ought not to be entered into without great consideration.

HAR. Without dowry!

VAL. That must of course decide everything. There are certainly people
who might tell you that on such occasions the wishes of a daughter are
no doubt to be considered, and that this great disparity of age, of
disposition, and of feelings might be the cause of many an unpleasant
thing in a married life.

HAR. Without dowry!

VAL. Ah! it must be granted that there is no reply to that; who in the
world could think otherwise? I do not mean to say but that there are
many fathers who would set a much higher value on the happiness of
their daughter than on the money they may have to give for their
marriage; who would not like to sacrifice them to their own interests,
and who would, above all things, try to see in a marriage that sweet
conformity of tastes which is a sure pledge of honour, tranquillity
and joy; and that....

HAR. Without dowry!

VAL. That is true; nothing more can be said. Without dowry. How can
anyone resist such arguments?