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THE STRIPLING: A TRAGEDY.

ing of a last speech in my ears I could get no rest for the sound of it.

HUMPHRY.

Hold thy tongue, fool! I hate to hear the very name of it. Have I not told thee already, I'll give thee a good sound beating if thou ever speak one word of such things again.—Run and take the key of the back gate and open it.

ROBERT.

Why so?

HUMPHRY.

Your master is coming home by a private way to avoid the crowd, and will enter by the back gate. In the mean time I'll go and inform my young master of the good news; for he must be quite overcome with despondency, poor boy, else he would never have rested quietly at home all this time. It is so unlike his usual stirring spirits.

ROBERT (calling after Humphry as he goes off).

Humphry, hark ye, Humphry!

HUMPHRY (turning back).

What sayest thou?

ROBERT.

Did they raise a great huzza when he was acquitted; and did Master make them a low bow, and all that?