SIR GEORGE.

I can't say I did.

MR. LUCRE.

But you must have observed I hesitated, and looked very foolish.

SIR GEORGE.

I thought for my part, that I looked as foolish.--But I hope I did not hesitate.

MR. LUCRE.

Nor ever will, when a friend applys to you, I'll answer for it--Nor ever shall a friend hesitate when you apply.

LORD HAZARD. [_Taking_ SIR GEORGE _aside_.

The obligations I am under to you for extricating me from that dangerous business--

SIR GEORGE.

Never name it.

LORD HAZARD.

Not only name it, Sir George, but shortly I hope to return the kindness; and, if I do but live----

SIR GEORGE. [_To the company._ Permit me to conduct you to the next apartment.

LADY CAROLINE.

Most willingly, Sir George. I was the first who arrived; which proves my eagerness to dance.

SIR GEORGE. [_Aside to her._ But let me hope, pa.s.sion for dancing was not the only one, that caused your impatience.

[_As the company move towards the ball-room_, Mr. LUCRE _and_ LORD HAZARD _come forward_.

MR. LUCRE.

Oh! there never was such a man in the world as the master of this house; there never was such a friendly, generous, n.o.ble heart; he has the best heart in the world, and the best taste in dress.

[_The company Exeunt, and the music is heard to begin._

SCENE II. _An Apartment, which denotes the Poverty of the Inhabitants._ HENRY _and_ ELEANOR _discovered_.

ELEANOR.

It is very late and very cold too, brother; and yet we have neither of us heart to bid each other good night.

HENRY.

No--beds were made for rest.

ELEANOR.

And that noise of carriages and link-boys at Sir George Splendorville's, next door, would keep us awake, if our sorrows did not.

HENRY.

The poor have still more to complain of, when chance throws them thus near the rich,--it forces upon their minds a comparison might drive them to despair, if--

ELEANOR.

--If they should not have good sense enough to reflect, that all this bustle and show of pleasure, may fall very short of happiness; as all the distress _we_ feel, has not yet, thank Heaven, reached to misery.

HENRY.

What do you call it then?

ELEANOR.

A trial; sent to make us patient.

HENRY.

It may make you so, but cannot me. Good morning to you. [_Going._

ELEANOR.

Nay, it is night yet. Where are you going?

HENRY.

I don't know.--To take a walk.--The streets are not more uncomfortable than this place, and scarcely colder.

ELEANOR.

Oh, my dear brother! I cannot express half the uneasiness I feel when you part from me, though but for the shortest s.p.a.ce.

HENRY.

Why?

ELEANOR.

Because I know your temper; you are impatient under adversity; you rashly think providence is unkind; and you would s.n.a.t.c.h those favours, which are only valuable when bestowed.

HENRY.

What do you mean?

ELEANOR.

Nay, do not be angry; but every time you go out into this tempting town, where superfluous riches continually meet the eye of the poor, I tremble lest you should forfeit your honesty for that, which Heaven decreed should not belong to you.

HENRY.

And if I did, you would despise and desert me?

ELEANOR.

No: not desert you; for I am convinced you would only take, to bring to me; but this is to a.s.sure you, I do not want for any thing.

HENRY.

Not want?--Nor does my father?

ELEANOR.

Scarcely, while we visit him. Every time he sees us we make him happy; but he would never behold us again if we behaved unworthy of him.

HENRY.

What! banish us from a prison?

ELEANOR.