Isaac. [Aside.] Well, certainly, there is something pleasing in the tone of her voice.
Duen. You will pardon this breach of decorum in praising you thus, but my joy at being so agreeably deceived has given me such a flow of spirits!
Isaac. Oh, dear lady, may I thank those dear lips for this goodness?—[Kisses her.] [Aside.]Why she has a pretty sort of velvet down, that's the truth on't.
Duen. O sir, you have the most insinuating manner, but indeed you should get rid of that odious beard—one might as well kiss a hedgehog.
Isaac. [Aside.] Yes, ma'am, the razor wouldn't be amiss—for either of us.—[Aloud.] Could you favour me with a song?
Duen. Willingly, though I'm rather hoarse—ahem![Begins to sing.]
Isaac. [Aside.] Very like a Virginia nightingale!—[Aloud.] Ma'am, I perceive you're hoarse—I beg you will not distress——
Duen. Oh, not in the least distressed. Now, sir.
SONG.
When a tender maid
Is first assay'd
By some admiring swain.
How her blushes rise
If she meet his eyes,
While he unfolds his pain!
If he takes her hand, she trembles quite!
Touch her lips, and she swoons outright!
While a pit-a-pat, &c.
Her heart avows her fright.