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Enter LETITIA, running.
(Hanging down her Head, and dropping behind
Mrs. RACKETT. Mrs. R. Fie, Letitia-Mr. Doricourt thinks you a woman of elegant manners. Stand forward, and confirm his opinion.
Letit. No, no; keep before me.—He's my sweetheart; and 'tis impudent to look one's sweetheart in the face, you know.
Mrs. Ř. You'll allow in future for a lady's painting, sir-Ha! ha! ha!
Doric. I am astonished !
Letit. Well, hang it, I'll take heart—Why, he is but a man, you know, cousin--and I'll let him see, I wasn't born in a wood, to be scared by an owl. [Half apart ; advances, and looks at him through her Fingers.] He! he ! he! [Goes up to him, and makes a very stiff, formal Courtesy-He bows.]—You have been a great traveller, sir, I hear.
Doric. Yes, madam.
Letit. Then I wish you'd tell us about the fine sights you saw when you went over-sea—I have read in a book, that there are some countries, where the men and women are all horses.-Did you see any of them?
Mrs. R. Mr. Doricourt is not prepared, my dear, for these inquiries—he is reflecting on the importance of the question, and will answer you—when he
Letit. When he can! Why, he's as slow in speech, as aunt Margery, when she's reading Thomas Aquinas ;-and stands gaping, like mumchance.
Mrs. R. Have a little discretion.