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Mr Smith. Very well, sir.

Dorn. I have done with him; he is henceforth no son of mine!-Let him starve !

Mr Smith. He acts very improperly, sir, indeed. Dorn. Improperly!-How? What does he do?

Mr Smith. Sir!

Dorn. Have you heard any thing of

[Alarmed.

Mr Smith. [Confused.] No-no, sir--nothing-nothing but what you yourself tell me.

Dorn. Then how do you know he has acted improperly?

Mr Smith. He is certainly a very good-hearted young gentleman, sir.

Dorn. Good-hearted!-How dare you make such an assertion?

Mr Smith. Sir!

Dorn. How dare you, Mr Smith, insult me so?-~ Is not his gaming notorious; his racing, driving, riding, and associating with knaves, fools, debauchees, and blacklegs?

Mr Smith. Upon my word, sir-I

Dorn. But it's over!-His name has this very day been struck out of the firm! Let his drafts be returned. It's all ended! [Passionately.] And, observe, not a guinea! If you lend him any yourself, I'll not pay you. I'll no longer be a fond doting father! There fore take warning! Take warning, I say! Be his distress what it will, not a guinea! Though you should hereafter see him begging, starving in the streets, not so much as the loan or the gift of a single guinea! [With great passion.

Mr Smith. I shall be careful to observe your orders, sir.

Dorn. Sir! [Terror.] Why, would you see him starve? Would you see him starve, and not lend him a guinea?-Would you, sir? Would you?

Mr Smith. Sir!-Certainly not, except in obedience to your orders.

Dorn. [Amazement and compassion.] And could any orders justify your seeing a poor unfortunate youth, rejected by his father, abandoned by his friends, starving to death?

Mr Smith. There is no danger of that, sir.

Dorn. I tell you the thing shall happen! He shall starve to death! [Horror at the supposition.] I'll never look on more as a son of mine: and I am very certain, whet. Almost in tears.] Yes, yes! he is I have forsaken him, all the e world will born to be a poor wretched outcast!

forsake him

Mr Smith. I hope, sir, he still will make a fine

man.

Dorn. Will! There is not a finer, handsomer, nobler looking youth in the kingdom; no, not in the world!

Mr Smith. I mean a worthy good man, sir. Dorn. How can you mean any such thing? The company he keeps would corrupt a saint.

Mr Smith. Sir, if

pleasure is, I will endeavour

vant..

I only tell me what your to act like a faithful sertake a faithful se

Dorn. I know you are a faithful servant, Mr Smith. [Takes his hand-I know you are, but you-you are not a father!

Enter MR SULKY, and MR SMITH goes off.

Dorn. Well, Mr Sulky, have you heard any thing of him?

Sulky. Yes.

Dorn. And, eh

[Excessively impatient.] Any

thing consoling, any thing good?

Sulky, No.

Dorn. No!-No, say you? Where is he?What

is he about?

Sulky. I don't know.

Dorn. Don't?-You love to torture me, sir! You

love to torture me.

Sulky. Humph!

Dorn. For Heaven's sake tell me what you have heard!

Sulky. I love to torture you.

Dorn. Put me out of my pain! If you are not a tiger, put me out of my pain!

Sulky. [Reluctantly drawing a newspaper out of his pocket. There, read!

Dorn. Dead!

Sulky. Worse.

Dorn. Mercy defend me!- Where? What? Sulky. The first paragraph in the postscript: the beginning line in capitals.

Dorn. [Reads.] The junior partner of the great banking-house, not a mile from the Post Office, has again been touched at Newmarket, for upward of ten thousand pounds[Pause.] It can't be !

Sulky. Humph!

Dorn. Why, can it?

Sulky. Yes.

Dorn. How do you know? What proof have that this is not a lie?

Sulky, His own hand-writing.

Dorn. How!

you

Sulky. Bills, at three days sight, to the full amount,

have already been presented.

Dorn. And accepted?

Sulky. Yes.

Dorn. But!-Why!Were you mad, Mr Sulky Were you mad?

Sulky. I soon shall be.

Dorn. Is not his name struck off the firm?
Sulky. They were dated two days before.

Dorn. The credit of my house begins to totter!

Sulky. Well it may.

Dorn. What the effect of such a paragraph may be, I cannot tell.

Sulky. I can-Ruin.

Dorn. Are you serious, sir?

Sulky. I am not inclined to laugh—A run against the house, stoppage, disgrace, bankruptcy. Dorn. Really, Mr Sulky, you

Sulky. Yes, I know I offend.-I was bred in your house, you used me tenderly, I served you faithfully, and you admitted me a partner. Don't think I care for myself. No; I can sit at the desk again. But you!-you! First man of the first commercial city on earth, your name in the Gazette !-Were it mine only, I would laugh at it.What am I?-Who cares for me?

Dorn. [Calling.] Mr Smith!-Thomas !-William!.

Enter MR SMITH.

Call all the servants together, Mr Smith;-clerks, footmen, maids, every soul! Tell them, their young master is a scoundrel

Mr Smith. Very well, sir.

Dorn. Sir! [His anger recurring.] Bid them shut the door in his face! I'll turn the first away that lets him set foot in this house ever again!

Mr Smith. Very well, sir.

Dorn. Very well, sir! Damn your very well, sir!I tell you, it is not very well, sir. He shall starve, die, rot in the street! Is that very well, sir?

[Exeunt MR DORNTON and MR SMITH. Sulky. He has a noble heart-a fond father's heart. The boy was a fine youth, but he spoiled him; and now he quarrels with himself, and all the world, because he hates his own folly. [Distant knocking heard at the street door.] So! here is the youth returned. Knocking again.

Enter MR DORNTON, followed by SERVANTS.

Dorn Don't stir!-on your lives, don't go to the door!-Are the bolts and locks all fastened?

Servts. All, sir.

[Knocking. Dorn. Don't mind his knocking! Go to bed every soul of you instantly, and fall fast asleep. He shall starve in the streets! [Knocking again.] Fetch me my blunderbuss! Make haste!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Street before the Door.

HARRY DORNTON, MILFORD, and POSTILLIONS. Post. We smoked along, your honour.

Harry. [Knocks.] I know you did. Had you been less free with your whip, you would have been halfa-crown richer. Your next step should be, to turn drummers, and handle the cat-o-'nine-tails.

Post. It is

honour.

late, your very Harry. Begone! I'll give you no more. [Knocks. [Exeunt PoSTILLIONS.

Dorn. [Throwing up the sash, and presenting the blunderbuss-MR SULKY behind.] Knock again, you scoundrel, and you shall have the full contents, loaded to the muzzle, rascal!

Harry. So! I suspected dad was in his tantarums.
Milf. You have given him some cause.

Harry. Very true. [To his father.] Consider, my dear sir, the consequences of lying out all night! Dorn. Begone, villain!

Harry. Bad women, sir; damps-night air

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