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64 L. Ogle. Upon me, Madam?

Fanny. Upon you, my Lord.

L. Ogle. There's no ſtanding this: I have caught the infection—her tenderneſs diſſolves me.

Fanny. And ſhould you too ſeverely judge of a raſh action which paſſion prompted, and modeſty has long concealed—

L. Ogle. [taking her hand.] Thou amiable creature—command my heart, for it is vanquiſhed—Speak but thy virtuous wiſhes, and enjoy them.

Fanny. I cannot, my Lord—indeed, I cannot—Mr. Lovewell muſt tell you my diſtreſſes—and when you know them—pity and protect me!—

[Exit, in tears.

How the devil could I bring her to this? It is too much—too much—I can't bear it—I muſt give way to this amiable weakneſs—[wipes his eyes.] My heart overflows with ſympathy, and I feel every tenderneſs I have inſpired—[ſtifles the tear.] How blind have I been to the deſolation I have made!—How could I poſſibly imagine that a little partial attention and tender civilities to this young creature ſhould have gathered to this burſt of paſſion! Can I be a man and withſtand it? No—I'll ſacrifice the whole ſex to her.—But here comes the father, quite apropos. I'll open the matter immediately, ſettle the buſineſs with him, and take the ſweet girl down to Ogleby-houſe to-morrow morning—But what the devil! Miſs Sterling too! What miſchief's in the wind now?

Sterl. My Lord, your ſervant! I am attending my daughter here upon rather a diſagreeable affair. Speak to his Lordſhip, Betſey!

Lord Ogle. Your eyes, Miſs Sterling—for I always read the eyes of a young lady—betray ſome little emotion—What are your commands, Madam? Miſs