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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Odd, is n't it, father, the old man's asking me to come and see him? Those old stub-twist constitutions never want patching." "Old man! old man! Who's that you call old, not Byles Gridley, hey? Old! old! Sixty year, more or less! How old was Floyer when he died, Fordyce? Ninety-odd, was n't it? Had the asthma though, or he'd have lived to be as old as Dr. Holyoke, a hundred year and over.
Cecilia, though fond of conversation and formed for society, was too diffident to attempt speaking where so little encouraged; they both, therefore, continued silent, till Sir Robert Floyer, Mr Harrel, and Mr Arnott entered the room together, and all at the same time advanced to Cecilia. "What," cried Mr Harrel, "don't you chuse to play, Miss Beverley?"
Cecilia then seriously enquired whether she had really any meaning at all. "Lord yes," answered she, "you know I mean about Sir Robert Floyer: for I'm told you've quite refused Lord Derford." "And are you also told that I have accepted Sir Robert Floyer?" "O dear yes! the jewels are bought, and the equipages are built; it's quite a settled thing, I know very well."
Yet, to him, even this trifling and general conversation was evidently painful, and he looked relieved by the approach of Sir Robert Floyer, who soon after joined them.
"I flatter myself," cried Mr Arnott, "that Miss Beverley never plays at all, for then, in one thing, I shall have the honour to resemble her." "Very seldom, indeed," answered Cecilia, "and consequently very ill." "O, you must take a few lessons," said Mr Harrel, "Sir Robert Floyer, I am sure, will be proud to instruct you."
Such was the quiet and contented situation of Cecilia, when one evening, which was destined for company at home, while she was alone in the drawing-room, which Mrs Harrel had just left to answer a note, Sir Robert Floyer accidentally came up stairs before the other gentlemen.
Johnson, "panted on till ninety," you will find it in the venerable treatise of Sir John Floyer; would you listen to the story of the King's Evil cured by the royal touch, as told by a famous chirurgeon who fully believed in it, go to Wiseman; would you get at first hand the description of the spinal disease which long bore his name, do not be startled if I tell you to go to Pott, to Percival Pott, the great surgeon of the last century.
Curiosity, however, was universally excited, and her retreat served but to inflame it: some of the ladies, and most of the gentlemen, upon various pretences, returned into the pit merely to look at her, and in a few minutes the report was current that the young lady who had been the occasion of the quarrel, was dying with love for Sir Robert Floyer.
Floyer, who is governor at Fort Saint David, sent at once to Chunda Sahib to acknowledge him as nawab; which, in the opinion of everyone here, was a very foolish step. Muhammud Ali had fled to Trichinopoli, and sent word to Mr. Floyer that he could hold the place, and even reconquer the Carnatic, if the English would assist him.
"We shall make a triumphal entry here," cried Sir Robert Floyer; "the very tread of the stage half tempts me to turn actor." "You are a rare man," said Mr Gosport, "if, at your time of life, that is a turn not already taken." "My time of life!" repeated he; "what do you mean by that? do you take me for an old man?"
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