_Reiss._ You shall not, Sir.

_P. Coun._ You are undone.

_Reiss._ Who says so?

_P. Coun._ G.o.d forbid you should take the oath.

_Reiss._ Instead of standing there by the side of that insect of the law, like a scholar that has received a wrap over his knuckles, you ought to have thundered him down with the voice of a judge, with influence and authority.

_P. Coun._ But I knew nothing of those shocking circ.u.mstances before.

_Reiss._ Hem! As if there was any difference between persuading a foolish woman to make a will, or getting a fellow that is half mad to draw it up. The former, however, you have supposed to be the case, and yet your morality sustained no shock.

_P. Coun._ But the oath?--

_Reiss._ Your pretended delicacy of conscience revolts at it; the mere cowardice of a boy. Who are you, that now takes the part of conscience against me? Are you a better man than I?

_P. Coun._ Whose work is it?

_Reiss._ You are a greater coward, but not the better man. Do not presume to raise yourself an inch above me. You have sold both right and bread.

_P. Coun._ Sir, the pupil may yet recede.

_Reiss._ If the master will let him; but the master holds him in his hand. If he recedes, mind that he must shrink into his original insignificance. He must hide from this world, for I--I shall not fall alone. If I fall, the ground around shall tremble! Do you take me?

_P. Coun._ Horrid and abominable!

_Reiss._ Perhaps you imagine, that I have transformed the carpenter's son into a privy counsellor, merely for the sake of having him for a son-in-law? or because you are master of a tolerable good stile? No, you shall serve me, because you are both good enough and bad enough for the purpose.

_P. Coun._ But I will not, I will not! I say, with all the resolution, with all the exertion of every one of those good feelings which you would sear and benumb.

_Reiss._ Too late. You are so entangled, that you can neither advance nor recede. You are fixed where I have placed you.--Thus much for the present. Now leave me in my native good humour. As to the old lawyer, I can soon manage him, never fear--Get the better of your squeamish conscience, and come to dinner.

_P. Coun._ I cannot.

_Reiss._ I desire it,--I insist upon it.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Counsellor SELLING.

_Sell._ Miss has sent me up;--dinner is on the table.

_Reiss._ Come, gentlemen.

_Sell._ You have won the day.

_Reiss._ Undoubtedly.

_Sell._ I wish you joy.

_Reiss._ Now here is the Privy Counsellor, who puzzles his head about some talk concerning the will.

_Sell._ Ah, that should not puzzle me.

_Reiss._ _Beati possidentes!_ Either, or--

_P. Coun._ Or!---there is the rub.

SCENE IV.

Enter MASTER CLARENBACH.

_Clar._ With your permission, gentlemen, I want to speak with my son.

_Reiss._ By yourselves?

_Clar._ Hem!--I should think so!

_Reiss._ Well, then do not let us wait long. (to the Privy Counsellor, half audible.) You have understood, me sufficiently, I think.--Servant, Master Clarenbach. Come along, Counsellor. [Exeunt.

SCENE X.

PRIVY COUNSELLOR, MASTER CLARENBACH.

_Clar._ I must come to you once more;--have you seen old Wellenberg?

_P. Coun._ Yes.

_Clar._ Well, what do you say about it?

_P. Coun._ I am shocked.

_Clar._ Thank G.o.d! What do you mean to do?

_P. Coun._ Alas! what can I do?

_Clar._ Jack, your honour is already in great arrears with our town, and your conscience does not altogether keep a fair day-book. I ask you, in the name of G.o.d, what do you mean to do?

_P. Coun._ All I can, father!

_Clar._ If you are in earnest, come along with me; let us go from hence.

_P. Coun._ Why so soon,--and whither?

_Clar._ Fly, fly from the brink of destruction. You must not dine here, you must not remain here any longer. You must not marry into this family.