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A COMEDY.
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DOLLY (without, in a sharp angry key).

Get down to the kitchen, you vile abominable cur! Do you think I have nothing to do but mop the stairs after your dirty feet? Get down. to the kitchen with you! (The howling of a dog heard without.) Yes, yes, howl away there! I'll break every bone in your skin, if you come this way again, that I will.

Enter Dolly.

AMARYLLIS.

Why Dolly, my good girl, this is rather an unpretty way of talking.

DOLLY.

'Tis but the dog, sir. Vile, nasty hound! he is worser than his master.

AMARYLLIS.

Than his master?

DOLLY.

Yes, than his master, Mr. Worshipton. His dog's tricks are like his own, for he don't care what trouble he gives to a poor servant.

AMARYLLIS.

So you don't love Mr. Worshipton, Dolly? Should you have treated a dog of mine so, eh? (pinching her cheek kindly.) You smile at that question, you gipsy: I know you would not.