"He is so ravished by your charms that he can neither
eat, drink, nor sleep; and he professes to me, his friend and partner,
that he must die outright, unless you take pity on him. Is it not so,
Sir Francis? Nay, plead your own cause, man. You will do it better than
I, who am little accustomed to tune my voice to the ear of beauty."
During this speech, the old usurer conducted himself in a manner that,
under other circumstances, must have moved Aveline's mirth; but it now
only excited her disgust and indignation. Sighing, groaning placing his
hand upon his heart, languishingly regarding her, and turning up his
eyes till the whites alone were visible, he ended by throwing himself at
her feet, seizing her hand, and attempting to cover it with kisses.
"Deign to listen to me, peerless and adorable damsel!" he cried in the
most impassioned accents he could command, though he wheezed terribly
all the while, and was ever and anon interrupted by a fit of coughing.
"Incline your ear to me, I beseech you. Sir Giles has in no respect
exaggerated my sad condition. Ever since I beheld you I have been able
to do nothing else than--ough! ough!--dwell upon your surpassing
attractions. Day and night your lovely image has been constantly before
me. You have driven sleep from my eyelids, and rest from my--(ough!
ough!)--frame. Your lustrous eyes have lighted up such a fire in my
breast as can never be extinguished, unless--(ough! ough! ough!)--plague
take this cough! I owe it to you, fair mistress of my heart, as well as
my other torments.
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