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It was the book I call'd so: in my youth It was my favourite study.

I had forgot; the book is yours, my Lord, And only borrow'd now for his amusement.

For hers, thou mean'st: is't not a female guest? Blushing again! What mystery is here? Tell me for whom this chamber is prepared. (Pause.) Thou wilt not answer. Nay, I will not force thee; But tell me only—is this guest a woman? What! silent still! 'tis not a woman then?

No, good my Lord.

Some fav'rite page, perhaps, who for the night Must near his dame be lodged.—It is not this. I do command thee tell me who it is; (Taking hold of him roughly.) For by thy face I see too well thou knowest. What guest sleeps here to-night?

Don Juen is the guest; this is the room Where he is wont to sleep.