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E'en as a townsman, who would live at peace, And pay him the respect his station claims, I'll crave his pardon too for all offence My dark and wayward temper may have done; Nay more, I will confess myself his debtor For the forbearance I have curs'd so oft. Life spar'd by him, more horrid than the grave With all its dark corruption! This I'll do. Will it suffice thee? More than this I cannot.

Jane. No more than this do I require of thee In outward act, tho' in thy heart, my friend, I hop'd a better change, and still will hope. I told thee Freberg had propos'd a meeting.

De Mon. I know it well.

Jane.And Rezenvelt consents. He meets you here; so far he shews respect.

De Mon. Well, let it be; the sooner past the better.

Jane. I'm glad to hear you say so, for, in truth, He has propos'd it for an early hour. 'Tis almost near his time; I came to tell you.

De Mon. What, comes he here so soon? shame on his speed! It is not decent thus to rush upon me. He loves the secret pleasure he will feel To see me thus subdued.

Jane. O say not so! he comes with heart sincere.

De Mon. Could we not meet elsewhere? from home—i' the fields, Where other men—must I alone receive him? Where is your agent, Freberg, and his friends,