Cecilia, perceiving, with great confusion, that Mr Delvile, though evidently provoked by this intrusion, would not deign to speak, that Mr Briggs might be regarded as belonging wholly to herself, hastily said "I will not, Sir, as your time is precious, detain you here, but, as soon as it is in my power, I will wait upon you in the city."
Mr Briggs, however, without listening to her, thought proper to continue his harangue.
"Invited me once to his house; sent me a card, half of it printed like a book! t'other half a scrawl could not read; pretended to give a supper; all a mere bam; went without my dinner, and got nothing to eat; all glass and shew: victuals painted all manner of colours; lighted up like a pastry-cook on twelfth-day; wanted something solid, and got a great lump of sweetmeat; found it as cold as a stone, all froze in my mouth like ice; made me jump again, and brought the tears in my eyes; forced to spit it out; believe it was nothing but a snowball, just set up for show, and covered over with a little sugar. Pretty way to spend money! Stuffing, and piping, and hopping! never could rest till every farthing was gone; nothing left but his own fool's pate, and even that he could not hold together."
"At present, Sir," said Cecilia, "we are all going out of town; the carriage is waiting at the door, and therefore--"
"No such thing," cried he; "Sha'n't go; come for you myself; take you to my own house. Got every thing ready, been to the broker's, bought a nice blanket, hardly a brack in it. Pick up a table soon; one in my eye."
"I am sorry you have so totally mistaken me, Sir; for I am now going into the country with Mr and Mrs Delvile."
"Won't consent, won't consent! what will you go there for? hear of nothing but dead dukes; as well visit an old tomb."
Here Mr Delvile, who felt himself insulted in a manner he could least support, after looking at him very disdainfully, turned to Cecilia, and said "Miss Beverley, if this person wishes for a longer conference with you, I am sorry you did not appoint a more seasonable hour for your interview." "Ay, ay," cried the impenetrable Mr Briggs; "want to hurry her off! see that! But 't won't do; a'n't to be nicked; chuse to come in for my thirds; won't be gulled, sha'n't have more than your share."
"Sir!" cried Mr Delvile, with a look meant to be nothing less than petrific.
"What!" cried he, with an arch leer; "all above it, hay? warrant your Spanish Don never thinks of such a thing! don't believe 'em my duck! great cry and little wool; no more of the ready than other folks; mere puff and go one."