My brother Simon still hath borne him company,
('Tis a brave youth, I envy him all his virtues).
Disguised in foreign garb, they pass for Frenchmen,
Two Protestant exiles from the Limousin
Newly arrived. Their dwelling's now at Nottingham,
Where no soul knows them.
Lovel. 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 childlike cleaving to the land that gave him birth,
Chains him like fate.