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Surprises thee.

In truth it does. Methinks on such a day, Did we not see above the glassy brine The mast of that wreck'd vessel still appear To tell the dismal tale of last night's storm, One would with buoyant heart say to the ocean, Let us career it o'er thy surgy fields To every coast o' th' earth.

I doubt not, Sir, 't is a fair sight to those Who come so far afield to look upon it. Is thine old tutor dead, or Dame Magera, That thou art rambling gallantly at large In this our distant province?—Dost thou blush? That is a folly, if thou hast no cause.

I fear, my Lord, I have offended you. I am as free to ramble now at large As any he who reckons twice my years; Nor should my visit to this distant province Be deem'd an idle ramble; Don Fernandez, My aged kinsman, claims some duty of me; I am an inmate of his lonely tower.

Pooh! boy, thou 'st said enough, and somewhat more: Who cares about thy visit to thy kinsman?