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 Rochester. You take offence, it seems. Truly, I know not why. My amourette Would surely entertain his Majesty. Through Cromwell's daughter I wage war on him. Moreover, I have little awe of him. Although we never met that I recall, We both for mistress had, at the same time, That Lady Dysart, who, so gossip says, Is soon to wed our dear Lord Lauderdale. Ormond.Never would I have thought that Cromwell could Be slandered; but he's chaste, and why deny it? He hath the stern, austere morality Of a sincere reformer. Rochester [laughing.] He, austere! Ah! that austerity of his doth hide Full many a mystery; the hypocrite Hath often proved that e'en the Puritan Is to mankind akin. But by your leave, Return we to the quatrain. Ormond [aside.] By St. George! He dogs me still, the quatrain on his lips! [Aloud.] Hark ye, John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, You are still young, and I am growing old. The ancient chivalric traditions I Do still maintain, wherefore I dare to say, My lord, that all these sonnets, madrigals, Rondeaus, quatrains, and ballads, wherewithal Your Paris fools are entertained, are well For petty folk and those of humble birth. Why, pettifogging lawyers grind them out! But, Rochester, your peers would blush with shame To stoop to rhyme quatrains and madrigals. My lord, you 're of an ancient noble race, Your arms, unless my memory's at fault,