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Fred. No cunning traitor did my faith attempt, For then I had withstood him: but of late, I know not how—a bad and restless spirit Has work'd within my breast, and made me wretched. I've lent mine ear to foolish idle tales, Of very zealous, tho' but new-made friends.

Bas. Softly, our friends approach—of this again, [

Ros. Thank heaven I am now alone with thee. Last night I sought thee with an anxious mind, And curs'd thine ill-tim'd absence— There's treason in this most deceitful court, Against thee plotting, and this morning's tumult Hath been its damn'd effect.

Bas.Poo, poo, my friend; The nature of man's mind too well thou know'st, To judge as vulgar hood-wink'd statesmen do; Who ever with their own poor wiles misled, Believe each popular tumult or commotion, Must be the work of deep-laid policy. Poor, mean, mechanick souls, who little know A few short words of energetick force, Some pow'rful passion on the sudden rous'd, The animating sight of something noble, Some fond trait of the mem'ry finely wak'd,