Ber. Alas! I’m hungry, love can’t support itself on air.
Rod. I’m much more hungry; think how much I’ve had to bear.
Ber. Monster! is it for this I left my frugal home in haste,
To fly with you and see this dreadful waste.
Where is our home? where do you mean to go?
Rod. Upon my word, Berlinda, I don’t know;
I think we’ll pic-nic, drink the morning dew,
And eat the berries,—see, I’ve got a few,—
And then we’ll take a quiet stroll to search
For parson, marriage lines, and church,