Oh, of course, if mine will do.
L. But that's very wicked, Lucilla!
LUCILLA. Wicked, sir?
L. Yes, if your heart was not so bad, you would much rather pull
all the cat's hairs out, than one of your own.
LUCILLA. Oh! but, sir, I didn't mean bad like that.
L. I believe, if the truth were told, Lucilla, you would like to
tie a kettle to Tittie's tail, and hunt her round the playground.
LUCILLA. Indeed, I should not, sir.
L. That's not true, Lucilla; you know it cannot be.
LUCILLA. Sir?
L. Certainly it is not;--how can you possibly speak any truth out
of such a heart as you have? It is wholly deceitful.
LUCILLA. Oh! no, no; I don't mean that way; I don't mean that it
makes me tell lies, quite out.
L. Only that it tells lies within you?
LUCILLA. Yes.
L. Then, outside of it, you know what is true, and say so; and I
may trust the outside of your heart; but within, it is all foul
and false. Is that the way?
LUCILLA. I suppose so: I don't understand it quite.
L. There is no occasion for understanding it; but do you feel it?
Are you sure that your heart is deceitful above all things, and
desperately wicked?
LUCILLA (much relieved by finding herself among phrases with which
she is acquainted). Yes, sir.
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