Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/215

Rh

Oh! oh!

La! what is the matter with you? have you the stomach ach? My aunt can cure that.

Nay, my dear Hanabella, it is yourself that must cure me. I have got the heart-ach. It is your pity I must implore. (Kneeling and taking her hand.)

O, sure now! to see you kneeling so—it is so droll! I don't know what to say, it is so droll.

Say that you will be mine, and make me happy: there is nothing a lover can do, that I will not do to please you.

Miss Languish's lover made songs upon her.

I'll do so too, or any thing: but don't let your aunt know that I have spoken to you, she would be so angry.

O no! she is very fond of people being married.