I’m over ears in love within this hour.
(Stumbles on barrel.)
Jul. Be careful, you’ll be over ears in flour.
Rom. If thou wouldst have me paint the home
To which I’d bear thee when our nuptials come,
Listen. In a deep vale where huckleberries grow,
And modest sun-flowers blossom in a row,
Where blooming cabbage rears its lofty head,
And fragrant onion spreads its lowly bed,
A yellow cottage, with a chimney tall,