her ear-rings behind.

_Basil._ Hush! hush!

_Wyck._ Thus it is to be such a fellow as you. You
pretend to be so tender-hearted. Well, I never wished
to kill my brother. If I had one I could love him,
unless he were a damned scrupulous sinner, that
makes faces at doing what he is always wishing.
Why, hark you, with your peccadilloes, you resemble
a monkey over a hot dish of roasted chestnuts; you
keep grinning round with your mouth watering, till
they get cold, before you taste.

_Basil._ I tell thee that I hate him and fear him
not. Would that his blood might freeze upon my
door-step on a December night! If he were here
now, I would stab him before thee.

_Wyck._ Ay, in the back.

_Basil._ But I have a plan that shall undo him most
securely. Come in here, and I will tell thee over a
stoup of right claret.

_Wyck._ Now you speak reason; for I am but a
dry rogue, and am never fit for much early in the
morning, without I sit up all night. [_Exeunt, L._]