Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/29

Such as the manliest men in their cross'd lives
Are sometimes forc'd to shed,

SEBASTIAN.

And spoke he of his love?

COUNT ZATERLOO.

Nay, there indeed

He was reserv'd; but that part of his story,
Which I from sure authority have learnt,
I still thro' broken words could shrewdly read,
Altho' he nam'd it not.

BERNARD.

Hast thou explain'd to him our course of life?

COUNT ZATERLOO.

No, that had been too much: but can'st thou doubt,

Suff'ring such wrongs as Hubert's artful baseness
Has put upon him, he will scruple long,
Thus circumstanc'd, to join his arm with ours
In murd'ring the rich villain?

BERNARD (looking at Sebastian, who shrinks back).

I pray thee call it shooting! that plain word

Still makes Sebastian, like a squeamish dame,
Shrink and look lily-fac'd. To shoot a man
As one in battle shoots a fronted foe;
As from the tavern's broil, in measur'd field,
One shoots a friend, is nought:—but that word murder—