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much honour thrust upon me, to which I have no pretensions, is

Come this way, and receive a private word in your ear.

{{c|{{smaller|LADY SHREWDLY {aside to {{sc|Lord Worrymore}}).}}}} Let me speak to him, my Lord, and do you enjoy your secret triumph. (Draws away to a corner where she continues speaking to him in dumb show.)

Was such beautiful poetry, with such a modest poet, ever yet combined?

He blushed deeply, indeed: and, methinks, (fixing his eyes on ) he has a fair friend here who sympathises with his modesty, if one may judge from the colour of her cheeks. Ah! when shall I receive such proofs of sympathy?

When you blush at all, Sir John. You can scarcely expect from your friends this token of sympathy till you give them an opportunity.

Yes, our poet blushed a little, I believe, as I