Your little heretic nun. How timid-bashful
Did John salute his love, being newly seen!
Sir Rowland term'd it a rare modesty,
And praised it in a youth.
John. Now Margaret weeps herself.
(A noise of bells heard.)
Marg. Hark the bells, John.
John. Those are the church-bells of St. Mary Ottery.
Marg. I know it.
John. St. Mary Ottery, my native village