Austen Said:

Mr. Woodhouse must not, under the specious pretence of a morning drive, and an hour or two spent at Donwell, be tempted away to his misery.

"Some very fine morning, he, and Emma, and Harriet, could go very well; and he could sit still with Mrs. Weston, while the dear girls walked about the gardens. He did not suppose they could be damp now, in the middle of the day. He should like to see the old house again exceedingly, and should be very happy to meet Mr. and Mrs. Elton, and any other of his neighbours.—He could not see any objection at all to his, and Emma's, and Harriet's going there some very fine morning. He thought it very well done of Mr. Knightley to invite them —very kind and sensible —much cleverer than dining out.—He was not fond of dining out."

to get Frank over to join them, if possible;

he should be glad to see him;

"These are my own concerns. I have a right to talk on such subjects, without being suspected of introducing Robert Martin."—

"His aunt was so much better, that he had not a doubt of getting over to them."—

Mrs. Weston had been shewing them all to him, and now he would shew them all to Emma;—

He had been detained by a temporary increase of illness in her; a nervous seizure, which had lasted some hours—and he had quite given up every thought of coming, till very late;—and had he known how hot a ride he should have, and how late, with all his hurry, he must be, he believed he should not have come at all. The heat was excessive; he had never suffered any thing like it— almost wished he had staid at home— nothing killed him like heat— he could bear any degree of cold, etc., but heat was intolerable—

"As soon as I am cooler I shall go back again. I could very ill be spared—but such a point had been made of my coming! You will all be going soon I suppose; the whole party breaking up. I met one as I came— — Madness in such weather!—absolute madness!"

"No —he should not eat. He was not hungry; it would only make him hotter."

"As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad,"

"I shall never be easy till I have seen some of these places. You will have my sketches, some time or other, to look at—or my tour to read—or my poem. I shall do something to expose myself."

"They may be induced to go too. A warm climate may be prescribed for her. I have more than half an expectation of our all going abroad. I assure you I have. I feel a strong persuasion, this morning, that I shall soon be abroad. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse, whatever your penetrating eyes may fancy— I am sick of England—and would leave it to-morrow, if I could."

"I sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken. I do not look upon myself as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted in every thing material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate person."

"No—I shall not stir. I shall sit by you. You are my best cure."

"No, certainly not; I shall go home in the cool of the evening."

"No —It will not be worth while. If I come, I shall be cross."

"But if I do, I shall be crosser still. I can never bear to think of you all there without me."

"Well;—if you wish me to stay and join the party, I will."

"How much I am obliged to you,"

"for telling me to come to-day!—If it had not been for you, I should certainly have lost all the happiness of this party. I had quite determined to go away again."

"Don't say I was cross. I was fatigued. The heat overcame me."

"Not to my feelings. I am perfectly comfortable to-day."

"Your command?—Yes."

"It comes to the same thing. I can have no self-command without a motive. You order me, whether you speak or not. And you can be always with me. You are always with me."

"Three o'clock yesterday! That is your date. I thought I had seen you first in February."

"I say nothing of which I am ashamed,"

"I saw you first in February. Let every body on the Hill hear me if they can. Let my accents swell to Mickleham on one side, and Dorking on the other. I saw you first in February."

"Our companions are excessively stupid. What shall we do to rouse them? Any nonsense will serve. They shall talk. Ladies and gentlemen, I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is, presides) to say, that she desires to know what you are all thinking of?"

"Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all thinking of?"

"Very true, my love, very true. Exactly so, indeed —quite unheard of — —but some ladies say any thing. Better pass it off as a joke. Every body knows what is due to you."

"It will not do,"

"they are most of them affronted. I will attack them with more address. Ladies and gentlemen —I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she waives her right of knowing exactly what you may all be thinking of, and only requires something very entertaining from each of you, in a general way. Here are seven of you, besides myself, (who, she is pleased to say, am very entertaining already,) and she only demands from each of you either one thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated—or two things moderately clever—or three things very dull indeed, and she engages to laugh heartily at them all."

'Three things very dull indeed.'

"I like your plan,"

"Agreed, agreed. I will do my best. I am making a conundrum. How will a conundrum reckon?"

"Low, I am afraid, sir, very low,"

"but we shall be indulgent— especially to any one who leads the way."

"I doubt its being very clever myself,"

"It is too much a matter of fact, but here it is.—What two letters of the alphabet are there, that express perfection?"

"Ah! you will never guess. You,

I am certain, will never guess.—I will tell you.—M. and A.—Em-ma.—Do you understand?"

"This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted, and Mr. Weston has done very well for himself; but he must have knocked up every body else. Perfection should not have come quite so soon."

"Yes, yes, pray pass me,"

"I have nothing to say that can entertain Miss Woodhouse, or any other young lady. An old married man—quite good for nothing. Shall we walk, Augusta?"

"Happy couple!"

"How well they suit one another!—Very lucky — —marrying as they did, upon an acquaintance formed only in a public place!—They only knew each other, I think, a few weeks in Bath! Peculiarly lucky!—for as to any real knowledge of a person's disposition that Bath, or any public place, can give— it is all nothing; there can be no knowledge. It is only by seeing women in their own homes, among their own set, just as they always are, that you can form any just judgment. Short of that, it is all guess and luck—and will generally be ill-luck. How many a man has committed himself on a short acquaintance, and rued it all the rest of his life!"

"You were speaking,"

"Well, I have so little confidence in my own judgment, that whenever I marry, I hope some body will chuse my wife for me. Will you?

Will you chuse a wife for me?—I am sure I should like any body fixed on by you. You provide for the family, you know,