"Come, come, 't is no time now for fooling there,"
She whispered, in great wrath—"I must deposit
This pretty gentleman within the closet:
CLXXI.
"Pray, keep your nonsense for some luckier night—
Who can have put my master in this mood?
What will become on 't—I'm in such a fright,
The Devil's in the urchin, and no good—
Is this a time for giggling? this a plight?
Why, don't you know that it may end in blood?