“Pray what were you doing at this dark spot, at this hour of midnight?”
“Enjoying the cool air and the moonlight.”
“Begone ma’am—out of my house, ma’am.”
“Sir, what tone is this?”
“I say, begone ma’am.”
“A pretty tale; this house is mine, and in it I’ll remain.”
“Ten thousand bombs, you won’t.”
“Ten thousand bombs I will.”
“Don Pasquale, Don Pasquale,” said the doctor, “pray leave it all to me. Sister, I would spare you.”
“Would you, sir, indeed.”