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What would you, Monfort?

De Mon. Nothing—Yet, what is't o'clock? No, no—I had forgot—'tis early still. (Turns away again.)

''Freb. to Rez.'' Waltser informs me that you have agreed To read his verses o'er, and tell the truth. It is a dangerous task.

Rez. Yet I'll be honest: I can but lose his favour and a feast.

''De Mon. to Ser.'' What dost thou want?—

Ser.I thought your honour rung.

De Mon. I have forgot—Stay; are my horses saddled?

Ser. I thought, my Lord, you would not ride to-day. After so long a journey.

''De Mon. (Impatiently.)'' Well—'tis good. Begone!—I want thee not.[ Servant.

''Rez. (Smiling significantly.)'' I humbly crave your pardon, gentle Marquis. It grieves me that I cannot stay with you,