You think, if you married me, I should be passionately fond of you one month, and of somebody else the next: neither would happen.

I can esteem, I can be a friend, but I don't know whether I can love.

Expect all that is complaisant and easy, but never what is fond, in me.

You judge very wrong of my heart, when you suppose me capable of views of interest, and that anything could oblige me to flatter any body.

Was I the most indigent creature in the world, I should answer you as I do now, without adding or diminishing.