Tom Jones: Lyric Comedy in Three Acts

Oh! damn it, yes I do. I foresee that the wines of France will be very expensive next year, I know that the breed of my bassets a type of hunting dog is degenerating.

And those are your greatest affairs?

And I do not wish to have any others, me. I pay my workers every month, I account with my farmers every year, I drink with my friends every day, and whatever you may say about it, I call that doing one's affairs very well.

But your daughter is almost eighteen years old.

It is true, and that proves to me often that one does not need to be your age to reason better than you.

Brother!

Come, no temper, let us finish: what does my dear Sophie want, what does she desire?

What you perhaps have no desire to grant her soon; what one desires at her age... a husband.

Eh! that is my sole desire. How many times have you heard me say myself that my only ambition was to see her happy, by marrying her to the richest gentleman in the province.

Hasten then to make a choice, her heart could get ahead of you, and I have noticed that, since the arrival of Mr. Alworthy's nephew at his chateau.....

Blifil?