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ceal'd? Sure I
men, Two Protestant exiles from the Limosin Newly arriv'd. Their dwelling's now at Not
tingham, Where no soul knows them.
Can you assign any reason, why a gentleman of Sir Walter's known prudence should expose his person so lightly?
JOHN. I believe, a certain fondness, A child-like cleaving to the land that gave him LOVEL. I have known some exiles thus To linger out the term of the law's indulgence, To the hazard of being known.
birth, Chains him like fate.
sleep, And tell fine tales that
LOVEL. I have heard so much. But, to say truth, I mostly sleep alone.
JOHN. Or drink, sir? do you never drink too freely ? Some men will drink, and tell you all their secrets.
LOVEL.. Why do you question me, who know my habits ?
JOHN. I think you are no sot, No tavern-troubler, worshipper of the grape ;
But all men drink sometimes,
LOVEL. How much, sir, may a man with safety drink? (smiling)
JOHN. Who for a close embrace, a toy of sin, And amorous praising of your worship's breath, In rosy junction of four melting lips, Can kiss out secrets from you?
LOVEL. How strange this passionate behaviour shews in
you! Sure you think me some weak one.
JOHN. Pray pardon me some fears. You have now the pledge of a dear father's life. I am a son—would fain be thought a loving one; You may allow me some fears : do not despise
me, If, in a posture foreign to my spirit, And by our well-knit friendship I conjure you, Touch not Sir Walter's life. (kneels) You see these tears. My father's an old man. Pray let him live.
LOVEL. I must be bold to tell you, these new freedoms Shew most unhandsome in you.
JOHN. (rising) Ha! do you say so? Sure, you are not grown proud upon my secret! Ah! now I see it plain. He would be babbling. No doubt a garrulous and hard-fac'd traitorBut I'll not give you leave. (draws)
LOVEL. What does this madman mean?
I hope you
(they fight again. Lovel is disarmed.)
You had best now take