Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/319

Rh

''Freberg. (Without.)'' It is thy friend, De Monfort.

''De Mon. (Opening the door.)'' Enter, then.

''Freb. (Taking his hand kindly.)'' How art thou now? How hast thou past the night? Has kindly sleep refresh'd thee?

De Mon. Yes, I have lost an hour or two in sleep, And so should be refresh'd.

Freb.And art thou not? Thy looks speak not of rest. Thou art disturb'd.

De Mon. No, somewhat ruffled from a foolish cause, Which soon will pass away.

''Freb. (Shaking his head.)'' Ah no, De Monfort! something in thy face Tells me another tale. Then wrong me not: If any secret grief distracts thy soul, Here am I all devoted to thy love; Open thy heart to me. What troubles thee?

De Mon. I have no grief: distress me not, my friend.

Freb. Nay, do not call me so. Wert thou my friend, Would'st thou not open all thine inmost soul, And bid me share its every consciousness?

De Mon. Freberg, thou know'st not man; not nature's man, But only him who, in smooth studied works