True. All's right! Sit down!--I will not draw again.
A word with you: If--as a man--thou sayest,
Upon thy honour, I have spoken wrong,
I'll ask thy pardon!--though I never hold
Communion with thee more!

Wal. [After a pause, putting up his sword.]
My sword is sheathed?
Wilt let me take thy hand?

True. 'Tis thine, good sir,
And faster than before--A fault confessed
Is a new virtue added to a man!
Yet let me own some blame was mine. A truth
May be too harshly told--but 'tis a theme
I am tender on--I had a sister, sir,
You understand me!--'Twas my happiness
To own her once--I would forget her now! -
I have forgotten!--I know not if she lives! -
Things of such strain as we were speaking of,
Spite of myself, remind me of her!--So! -

Nev. Sit down! Let's have more wine.

Wild. Not so, good sirs.
Partaking of your hospitality,
I have overlooked good friends I came to visit,
And who have late become sojourners here -
Old country friends and neighbours, and with whom
I e'en take up my quarters. Master Trueworth,