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Updated: May 3, 2025
This is Miss Belle-bouche, whom we have heard the melancholy Jacques discourse of with such forlorn eloquence to his friend Tom, or Sir Asinus, as the reader pleases. Belle-bouche, Pretty-mouth, Belinda, or Rebecca for this last was the name given her by her sponsors is a young girl of about seventeen, and of a beauty so fresh and rare that the enthusiasm of Jacques was scarcely strange.
"In the second," sighed Jacques. "Oh yes! bah!" "There you are sneering. You make a miserable Latin pun, by which you translate Belinda into Campana in die Bell in day and when I improve your idea, making it really good, you sneer." "Really, now! well, I don't say!" "Belle-bouche! Could any thing be finer? 'Pretty-mouth! And then the play upon Bel, in Belinda, by the word Belle.
Positively, I will in future call her nothing else. Belle-bouche pretty-mouth! Ah!" And the unfortunate lover stretched languidly upon the lounge, studied the ceiling, and sighed piteously. His friend burst into a roar of laughter. Jacques for let us adopt the sobriquets all round turned negligently and said: "Pray what are you braying at, Sir Asinus?" "At your sighs." "Did I sigh?"
"Pretty-mouth," says Lovelace, with the air of a man who is caught feloniously appropriating sheep; but unable to refrain from bending wistful looks upon the topic of his discourse. Belle-bouche laughs with a delicious good humor, and Jacques takes heart again. "Is that all?" she says; "but what a pretty name!" "Do you like it, really?" asks the forlorn lover. "Indeed I do."
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