LOVEL
    I shall observe it;
    On holidays two quarts.

    JOHN
    Or stay; you keep no wench?

    LOVEL
    Ha!

    JOHN
    No painted mistress for your private hours? 
    You keep no whore, sir?

    LOVEL
    What does he mean?

    JOHN
    Who for a close embrace, a toy of sin,
    And amorous praising of your worship’s breath,
    In rosy junction of four melting lips,
    Can kiss out secrets from you?

    LOVEL
    How strange this passionate behaviour shews in you! 
    Sure you think me some weak one.

    JOHN
    Pray pardon me some fears. 
    You have now the pledge of a dear father’s life. 
    I am a son—­would fain be thought a loving one;
    You may allow me some fears:  do not despise me,
    If, in a posture foreign to my spirit,
    And by our well-knit friendship I conjure you,
    Touch not Sir Walter’s life. (Kneels.)
    You see these tears.  My father’s an old man. 
    Pray let him live.

    LOVEL
    I must be bold to tell you, these new freedoms
    Shew most unhandsome in you.

    JOHN (rising)
    Ha! do you say so? 
    Sure, you are not grown proud upon my secret! 
    Ah! now I see it plain.  He would be babbling. 
    No doubt a garrulous and hard-fac’d traitor—­
    But I’ll not give you leave. (Draws.)

    LOVEL
    What does this madman mean?

    JOHN
    Come, sir; here is no subterfuge. 
    You must kill me, or I kill you.

    LOVEL (drawing)
    Then self-defence plead my excuse. 
    Have at you, sir. (They fight.)

    JOHN
    Stay, sir. 
    I hope you have made your will. 
    If not, ’tis no great matter. 
    A broken cavalier has seldom much
    He can bequeath:  an old worn peruke,
    A snuff-box with a picture of Prince Rupert,
    A rusty sword he’ll swear was used at Naseby,
    Though it ne’er came within ten miles of the place;
    And, if he’s very rich,
    A cheap edition of the Icon Basilike,
    Is mostly all the wealth he dies possest of. 
    You say few prayers, I fancy;—­
    So to it again. (They fight again.  Lovel is disarmed.)

    LOVEL
    You had best now take my life.  I guess you mean it.

JOHN (musing) No:—­Men will say I fear’d him, if I kill’d him.  Live still, and be a traitor in thy wish, But never act thy thought, being a coward.  That vengeance, which thy soul shall nightly thirst for, And this disgrace I’ve done you cry aloud for, Still have the will without the power to execute.  So now I leave you, Feeling a sweet security.  No doubt My secret shall remain a virgin for you!—­ (Goes out, smiling in scorn.)