LORD MORTIMER. Right scornfully that angry maid Her dainty nose upturned !She waved her lily hand, and thus «/ His tempting offer spurned: … GET HENCE! A VAUNT! i SCORN THY GOLD. THE BALLAD OF MARY JANE 11 Get hence ! avaunt! I scorn thy gold, Likewise thy pedigree!I plighted troth to Benjamin, Who sails the briny sea. [Exit Mortimer; enter father. Nay, verily, her father said; Braid up thy golden hair;Prepare to die, if thou wilt not…
Children's plays · Amusements
Internet Archive · New York Public Library · Public Domain Mark 1.0. Free to use for anything.
