Nev. [And the others, interposing.] Gentlemen!
True. All’s right! Sit down!—I will not draw again.
A word with you: If—as a man—thou sayest,
Upon thy honour, I have spoken wrong,
I’ll ask thy pardon!—though I never hold
Communion with thee more!
Wal. [After a pause, putting up his sword.]
My sword is sheathed!
Wilt let me take thy hand?
True. ’Tis thine, good sir,
And faster than before—A fault confessed
Is a new virtue added to a man!
Yet let me own some blame was mine. A truth
May be too harshly told—but ’tis a theme
I am tender on—I had a sister, sir,
You understand me!—’Twas my happiness
To own her once—I would forget her now!—
I have forgotten!—I know not if she lives!—
Things of such strain as we were speaking of,
Spite of myself, remind me of her!—So!—
Nev. Sit down! Let’s have more wine.
Wild. Not so, good sirs.
Partaking of your hospitality,
I have overlooked good friends I came to visit,
And who have late become sojourners here—
Old country friends and neighbours, and with whom
I e’en take up my quarters. Master Trueworth,
Bear witness for me.
True. It is even so.
Sir William Fondlove and his charming daughter.
Wild. Ay, neighbour Constance. Charming, does he say?
Yes, neighbour Constance is a charming girl
To those that do not know her. If she plies me
As hard as was her custom in the country,
I should not wonder though, this very day,
I seek the home I quitted for a month! [Aside.]
Good even, gentlemen.
Hum. Nay, if you go,
We all break up, and sally forth together.