CLXXI.

"Pray, keep your nonsense for some luckier night-- _Who_ can have put my master in this mood? What will become on 't--I'm in such a fright, The Devil's in the urchin, and no good-- Is this a time for giggling? this a plight? Why, don't you know that it may end in blood? You'll lose your life, and I shall lose my place, My mistress all, for that half-girlish face.