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Walt. He feels too sensibly his disadvantages, and they depress him. He feels that he is not entitled to pretend to Livia, but as the probable heir of your estates; while your fantastical fondness for this woman and her son makes it a doubtful matter whether you may not be temptedBut hush! here she comes with her new-ruddled face, bearing her morning's potation of flattery with her, for a stomach of most wonderful digestion.

Enter Countess, who, after slightly noticing , runs up caressingly to the Baron.

Countess. How do you do, my dear Baron? I hope you have passed the night in sweet repose.—Yet, why do I hope it? You scarcely deserve that I should.

Bar. And why so, Belinda?

Walt. (aside, making a lip at them.) Belinda, too! Sweet innocents!

Bar. Why should you not hope that I have passed the night in repose?

Countess. Because I am vindictive, and would be revenged upon you for making me pass a very sleepless one.

Walt. (aside.) Will she make love to him before one's very face!

Bar. Then I am a culprit indeed, but an innocent one. What kept you awake?

Countess. O, those verses of yours! those dear