Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/24

Rh

Cruel girl! I swear that what Ralph drank was colourless As purest water. Overheated men, Sweating from Sun, or passion, or the two, Who swill cold water, likely come to die!

What you may do is no concern of mine;

I would not harm Sylvester, that is all.

Why have you harsh words for poor Pomeroy, Who loves you dearly; smile now! You to-day Look sweetly, child, perhaps a thought too pale, But I have Spanish wools, for white or red, 'Would set a rose-flush on a corpse's cheek, Or blanch the face of fever.