Martha; or, The Fair at Richmond

by Unknown

Tris. O, see already she is smiling,
Happy omen, well I know,
O, if mine could be this treasure,
Happy man were I, that's so!

Lady H. Ah, he can all my woe beguile.
What a funny old beau, Ah!
A funny beau.

Tris. (speaks). Fair Cousin, may I ah—dare hope that you—er—will so far condescend to me—uh—uh—as to go for a walk in the park?

Lady H (indifferently). Go fetch my fan!

Tris. (brings it. Lady H. fans violently). Would it amuse you to—er—er—let us say—go out for a row on the river?

Lady H. (ignoring him, glances round). It seems very chilly here. Shut the window—there's a good man!

(Tristan shuts it, trots back to her.)

Tris. (rubbing his hands). Shall we go hunting, perhaps? It's a capital day for it.

Lady H. (fans herself violently again). O, how close it is! Air—give me air! Open the window.

Tris. Why, I just closed it, at your command. (Stands with hands spread out in comical dismay.)