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 * But the sentry with a frown
 * From his lofty tower looked down,
 * And thus to the page made answer:
 * "Fair page, I trust you not;
 * Why wake before the dawn, sir?
 * 'Tis rather for war, I wot,
 * Than to put your heart in pawn, sir."


 * [The knocking is repeated, louder.

Ormond [rising to open the door. Who sings thus? 'Tis some fool—or Rochester.
 * [He opens the door and looks into the street.

Himself!—and faith, he's scribbling on his knee!
 * [Enter gaily, with a pencil and paper in his hand.

Rochester [with a slight salutation. Pardon, my lord, I did but write my song. Ah! I must tell you—
 * [He begins to write on his knee.

God protect your Grace!— One scarce can see.—Do you await our friends?— What think you of the air? [He sings.
 * A soldier, stern-faced wight,
 * A page detains one night—