you; and you pretend to be like him? You mean to say that he wept for me in your presence? Yours? He would sooner have inscribed my name on the pillory! Be gone--this instant!
FRANCIS. You insult me.
AMELIA. Go--I say. You have robbed me of a precious hour; may it be deducted from your life.
FRANCIS. You hate me, then!
AMELIA. I despise you--away!
FRANCES. (stamping with fury). Only wait! you shall learn to tremble before me!--To sacrifice me for a beggar!
[Exit in anger.
AMELIA. Go, thou base villain! Now, Charles, am I again thine own. Beggar, did he say? then is the world turned upside down, beggars are kings, and kings are beggars! I would not change the rags he wears for the imperial purple. The look with which he begs must, indeed, be a noble, a royal look--a look that withers into nought the glory, the pomp, the triumphs of the rich and great! Into the dust with thee, glittering baubles! (She tears her pearls from her neck.) Let the rich and the proud be condemned to bear the burthen of gold, and silver, and jewels! Be they condemned to carouse at the tables of the voluptuous! To pamper their limbs on the downy couch of luxury! Charles! Charles! Thus am I worthy of thee! [Exit.
FRANCIS. It lasts too long--and the doctor even says he is recovering--an old man's life is a very eternity! The course would be free and plain before me, but for this troublesome, tough lump of flesh, which like the infernal demon-hound in ghost stories bars the way to my treasures.
Must, then, my projects bend to the iron yoke of a mechanical system?--Is my soaring spirit to be chained down to the snail's pace of matter?--To blow out a wick which is already flickering upon its last drop of oil--'tis nothing more.-- And yet I would rather not do it myself on account of what