The things we do!

Leonore! Xavier!
Clive. At one moment you like me: and at the next you seem to repent it.
One day you seem happy when I come; and another day you are ashamed of
me. Last Tuesday, when you came with those fine ladies to the Louvre, you
seemed to blush when you saw me copying at my picture; and that stupid
young lord looked quite alarmed because you spoke to me. My lot in life
is not very brilliant; but I would not change it against that young
man's--no, not with all his chances.
Ethel. What do you mean with all his chances?
Clive. You know very well. I mean I would not be as selfish or as dull,
or as ill educated--I won't say worse of him--not to be as handsome, or
as wealthy, or as noble as he is. I swear I would not now change my place
against his, or give up being Clive Newcome to be my Lord Marquis of
Farintosh, with all his acres and titles of nobility.
Ethel. Why are you for ever harping about Lord Farintosh and his titles?
I thought it was only women who were jealous--you gentlemen say so.


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