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Letit. Hold your tongue!—sult, i may say

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please before I am married, if I can't afterwardsD'ye think a body does not know how to talk to a sweetheart-He is not the first I have had.

Doric. Indeed!

Letit. Oh, lud, he speaks!-Why, if you must know there was the curate at home

When papa was a hunting, he used to come a suitoring, and make speeches to me out of books-Nobody knows, what a mort of fine things he used to say to me-and call me Venis, and Jubah, and Dinah.

Doric. And pray, fair lady, how did you answer him?

Letit. Why, I used to say, Look you Mr. Curate, don't think to come over me with your flim-flams, for a better man than ever trod in your shoes, is coming over-sea to marry me-But, 'ifags, I begin to think, I was out.-Parson Dobbins was the sprightfuller man of the two.

Doric. Surely, this cannot be Miss Hardy?

Letit. Laws, why, don't you know me? You saw me to-day--but I was daunted before my father, and the lawyer, and all them; and did not care to speak out-so, may be, you thought I couldn't-but I can talk as fast as any body, when I know folks a littleAnd now I have shown my parts, I hope you'll like me better.

Enter HARDY.

Hardy. I foresee this won't do-Mr. Doricourt, may be, you take my daughter for a fool, but you are mistaken-she's as sensible a girl as any in Eng

land.

Doric. I am convinced, she has a very uncommon understanding, sir.-[Aside.] I did not think he had been such an ass!

Letit. My father will undo the whole.-Laws, papá, how can you think he can take me for a fool;-when

every body knows, I beat the 'Potecary at conundrums, last Christmas-time?—And didn't I make a string of names, all in riddles, for the Lady's Diary? -There was a little river, and a great house-that was Newcastle. There was what a lamb says, and three letters-that was Ba, and k-e-r, ker, baker.-There

was

Hardy. Don't stand ba-a-ing there-you'll make me mad in a moment--I tell you, sir, that for all that, she's dev'lish sensible.

Doric. Sir, I give all possible credit to your assertions.

Letit. Laws, papa, do come along. If you stand watching, how can my sweetheart break his mind, and tell me how he admires me?

Doric. That would be difficult, indeed, madam. Hardy. I tell you, Letty, I'll have no more of this. -I see well enough

Letit. Laws, don't snub me before my husbandthat is to be.-You'll teach him to snub me too-and, I believe, by his looks, he'd like to begin now. So let us go-cousin, you may tell the gentleman, what a genius I have how I can cut watch papers, and work catgut-make quadrille baskets with pins, and take profiles in shade-ay, as well as the lady at No. 62, South Moulton Street, Grosvenor Square.

[Exeunt HARDY and LETITIA. Mrs. R. What think you of my painting now? Doric. Oh, mere water colours, madam-The lady has caricatured your picture.

Mrs. R. And how does she strike you on the whole?

Doric. Like a good design, spoiled by the incapacity of the artist. Her faults are evidently the result of her father's weak indulgence. I observed an expression in her eye, that seemed to satirise the folly of her lips.

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