Austen Said:

Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!

Or a trident? or a mermaid? or a shark? Oh, no! shark is only one syllable. It must be very clever, or he would not have brought it. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do you think we shall ever find it out?"

"Dear Miss Woodhouse!"—

"Dear Miss Woodhouse,"

"Whatever you say is always right,"

"and therefore I suppose, and believe, and hope it must be so; but otherwise I could not have imagined it. It is so much beyond any thing I deserve. Mr. Elton, who might marry any body! There cannot be two opinions about him. He is so very superior. Only think of those sweet verses—'To Miss ———.' Dear me, how clever!—Could it really be meant for me?"

"It is a sort of thing which nobody could have expected. I am sure, a month ago, I had no more idea myself!—The strangest things do take place!"

"That Mr. Elton should really be in love with me,—me, of all people, who did not know him, to speak to him, at Michaelmas! And he, the very handsomest man that ever was, and a man that every body looks up to, quite like Mr. Knightley! His company so sought after, that

every body says

that

And so excellent in the Church! Miss Nash has put down all the texts he has ever preached from since he came to Highbury. Dear me! When I look back to the first time I saw him! How little did I think!—The two Abbots and I ran into the front room and peeped through the blind when we heard he was going by, and Miss Nash came and scolded us away, and staid to look through herself; however, she called me back presently, and let me look too, which was very good-natured. And how beautiful we thought he looked!He was arm-in-arm with Mr. Cole."

"Yes, very true. How nicely you talk; I love to hear you. You understand every thing. You and Mr. Elton are one as clever as the other. This charade!—If I had studied a twelvemonth, I could never have made any thing like it."

"I do think it is, without exception, the best charade I ever read."

"It is as long again as almost all we have had before."

"It is one thing,"

"to have very good sense in a common way, like every body else, and if there is any thing to say, to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you must, in a short way; and another, to write verses and charades like this."

"Such sweet lines!"

"these two last!—But how shall I ever be able to return the paper, or say I have found it out?—Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what can we do about that?"

"Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautiful charade into my book! I am sure I have not got one half so good."

"Oh! but those two lines are"—

"I shall never let that book go out of my own hands,"

"Oh! no— I hope I shall not be ridiculous about it. Do as you please."

"I dare say they are, sir. I am sure I do not know who is not."

"Oh, what a sweet house!—How very beautiful!—There are the yellow curtains that Miss Nash admires so much."

"I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married, or going to be married! so charming as you are!"—

"Ah!—so you say; but I cannot believe it."

"Dear me!—it is so odd to hear a woman talk so!"—

"But then, to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates!"

"But still, you will be an old maid! and that's so dreadful!"

"Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourself when you grow old?"

"Do you know Miss Bates's niece? That is, I know you must have seen her a hundred times— but are you acquainted?"

"These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they make every thing else appear!—I feel now as if I could think of nothing but these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how soon it may all vanish from my mind?"

"Very true,"

"Poor creatures! one can think of nothing else."

"Oh! dear, no,"

"Oh! dear, yes,"

"Oh yes, sir,"

"how you must miss her! And dear Emma, too!—What a dreadful loss to you both!—I have been so grieved for you.—I could not imagine how you could possibly do without her.—It is a sad change indeed.—But I hope she is pretty well, sir."

"Very much to the honour of both,"

"And do you see her, sir, tolerably often?"

"Just as it should be,"

"and just as I hoped it was from your letters. Her wish of shewing you attention could not be doubted, and his being a disengaged and social man makes it all easy. I have been always telling you, my love, that I had no idea of the change being so very material to Hartfield as you apprehended; and now you have Emma's account, I hope you will be satisfied."

"I think, indeed,"

"that Mr. Weston has some little claim. You and I, Emma, will venture to take the part of the poor husband. I, being a husband, and you not being a wife, the claims of the man may very likely strike us with equal force. As for Isabella, she has been married long enough to see the convenience of putting all the Mr. Westons aside as much as she can."

"Me, my love,"

"Are you talking about me?—I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be, a greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been for the misery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought of Miss Taylor but as the most fortunate woman in the world; and as to slighting Mr. Weston, that excellent Mr. Weston, I think there is nothing he does not deserve. I believe he is one of the very best-tempered men that ever existed. Excepting yourself and your brother, I do not know his equal for temper. I shall never forget his flying Henry's kite for him that very windy day last Easter—and ever since his particular kindness last September twelvemonth in

at twelve o'clock at night,

I have been convinced there could not be a more feeling heart nor a better man in existence.—If any body can deserve him, it must be Miss Taylor."

"Where is the young man?"

"Has he been here on this occasion—or has he not?"