TRISTRAM.
Your company! here’s wonders. I never knew you ask that before. ’Twas always stand off, Tristram: and you may go, Tristram: and we don’t want you, Tristram. What’s come to you now, that you ask my company?
R. Your master’s gone, Tristram; and I shall feel lonely.
T. My master is gone: and, as I believe, many thanks to you. I don’t know why ever you came here; but since you came all has gone wrong: there’s been more secrets and less sense: and now my master, or I should say, my late master, has quarrelled with the Countess and me; and I am turned loose on the world.
R. Do you want a fresh place, Tristram?
T. If I did, you are scarcely the man I should look to; thank you all the same.
R. I could give you some good advice.
T. I don’t want your advice neither, sir.
R. You love secrets, though: I have one I could tell you.
T. I have had enough of secrets. I wish you could tell me something that isn’t a secret.