Why don't you speak out?--not stand croaking like a frog in a
quinsey!
CAPT. A. The--the--excess of my awe, and my--my modesty quite choke me!
SIR A. Ah! your modesty again! Mrs. Malaprop, I wish the lady would
favor us with something more than a side-front.
[MRS. MALAPROP _seems to chide_ LYDIA.
CAPT. A. So! all will out, I see! [_Goes up to_ LYDIA, _speaks softly_.]
Be not surprised, my Lydia, suppress all surprise at present.
LYD. [_aside_]. Heavens! 'tis Beverley's voice!--[_Looks round by
degrees, then starts up_.] Is this possible!--my Beverley! how can this
be?--my Beverley!
CAPT. A. Ah! 'tis all over! [_Aside._
SIR A. Beverley!--the devil--Beverley! What can the girl mean? This is
my son, Jack Absolute.
MRS. M. For shame! for shame!--your head runs so on that fellow, that
you have him always in your eyes! beg Captain Absolute's pardon,
directly.
LYD. I see no Captain Absolute, but my loved Beverley!
SIR A. Zounds, the girl's mad!--her brain's turned by reading!
MRS. M. O' my conscience, I believe so!--what do you mean by
Beverley?--you saw Captain Absolute before to-day, there he is: your
husband that shall be.
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