There’s not a name in any book,
As can compare with Marmadook,
No breeze as e’er the treeses shook,
Sounds half as sweet as Marmadook.
MOUS. (aside) It was wrong in me to stop. I feel, it was highly wrong in me to stop. (aloud) But remember, you are going to marry a Joseph.
BET. (with sudden violence, and close to MOUSER) Never!
MOUS. (jumping away) Don’t. But why not?
BET. I don’t want to marry—I never will marry—I’ll live and die a Baker. (with great energy)
MOUS. But your reason—your motive—for dying a Baker?
BET. (with a pathetic look at MOUSER) Can you ask? You! You? Oh, ’tis too much! Oh! Oh! Oh! (aside) I wonder how I’m doing it. (hiding her face in her hands and sobbing)