Adeline. I hope not so, sir.
Gondi. Trust me, I think he did, youth; for there is an open native sincerity that marks thy countenance, which I scarce believe could give just cause to a steady friend to leave thee.
Adeline. Now, by my holy dame, he had none to suspect me. Yet, from the pressure of the time,—some trying chance—but, I am wandering. This is my suit to you.—If you should find me fit to be entrusted with the secrets of your party, I could wish to be enrolled among you.
Gondi. Hast thou well weigh'd the hardships which our life
Constrains us to? Our perils; nightly watchings
Our fears, disquietudes; our jealousies,
Even of ourselves?—which keep the lawless mind
For ever on the stretch, and turn our sleep,
To frightful slumbers;—where imagination
Discovers, to the dull and feverous sense,