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 The fair Beguine, said the corporal, continued rubbing with her whole hand under my knee—till I fear'd her zeal would weary her—"I would do a thousand times more," said she, "for the love of Christ"—In saying which she pass'd her hand across the flannel, to the part above my knee, which I had equally complained of, and rubb'd it also.

I perceived, then, I was beginning to be in love

As she continued rub-rub-rubbing—I felt it spread from under her hand, an' please your honour, to every part of my frame

The more she rubb'd, and the longer strokes she took—the more the fire