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61

But tell me—Had the father his daughter’s innocence to deplore?

Ah! my Lord, ah! and you mut hear that part in rhyme. Los of innocence never ounds well except in vere.

Leave the room intantly.

Yes, good Mr. family poet, leave the room, and take your doggerels with you.

Don’t affront my poem, your honour; for I am indebted to you for the plot.

Exit Butler. .