Nay, a good many do, I should think; for you have been grieving all over the town.
LADY WORRYMORE.
You little know: how could words express what I have felt for him? Look at the lovely creature! There is soul and beauty in every line of his countenance. Nay, don't frown at me, Hugho: if you are suffering I'll kiss away the pain. (Stoops and kisses him vehemently, while he struggles and pushes her off.)
MISS FRANKLAND.
Do, Lady Worrymore, be quiet. You'll put the poor child into a fever,
LADY WORRYMORE (persevering).
No, no! I will make him well: he must be well; for I have told Lady Tweedler, and Lady Lockup, and Miss Larden how beautiful he looks in his handkerchief turban; and they are all coming to see him.
HUGHO.
O dear, dear! to be so tormented! I wish dat I was dead. (Bursting into tears.)
MRS. BROWN.
Indeed, indeed, my Lady, your kindness is obstrepulous: the poor child will die of it.
