Resembled much that cold voluptuary,
The villain, Clifford. He hates you, and he knows
Where he can stab you deepest.


MARMADUKE Clifford never
Would stoop to skulk about a Cottage door--
It could not be.


OSWALD And yet I now remember,
That, when your praise was warm upon my tongue,
And the blind Man was told how you had rescued
A maiden from the ruffian violence
Of this same Clifford, he became impatient
And would not hear me.


MARMADUKE No--it cannot be--
I dare not trust myself with such a thought--
Yet whence this strange aversion? You are a man
Not used to rash conjectures--


OSWALD If you deem it
A thing worth further notice, we must act
With caution, sift the matter artfully.


[Exeunt MARMADUKE and OSWALD.]