MR. ANHALT. I have taken infinite pains; but in vain. No such person is to be found. BARON. Believe me, this burthen presses on my thoughts so much, that many nights I go without sleep. A man is sometimes tempted to commit such depravity when young.—Oh, Anhalt! had I, in my youth, had you for a tutor;—but I had no instructor but my passions; no governor but my own will. [_Exit._ MR. ANHALT. This commission of the Baron’s in respect to his daughter, I am—[_looks about_]—If I shou’d meet her now, I cannot—I must recover myself first, and then prepare.—A walk in the fields, and a fervent prayer—After these, I trust, I shall return, as a man whose views are solely placed on a future world; all hopes in this, with fortitude resigned. [_Exit._ ACT III. SCENE I. _An open Field._ FREDERICK _alone, with a few pieces of money which he turns about in his hands._ FREDERICK. To return with this trifle for which I have stooped to beg! return to see my mother dying! I would rather fly to the world’s end. [_Looking at the money._] What can I buy with this? It is hardly enough to pay for the nails that will be wanted for her coffin. My great anxiety will drive me to distraction. However, let the consequence of our affliction be what it may, all will fall upon my father’s head; and may he pant for Heaven’s forgiveness, as my poor mother —— [_At a distance is heard the firing of a gun, then the cry of Hallo, Hallo—Gamekeepers and Sportsmen run across the stage—he looks about._] Here they come—a nobleman, I suppose, or a man of fortune. Yes, yes—and I will once more beg for my mother.—May Heaven send relief! _Enter the_ BARON _followed slowly by the_ COUNT. _The_ BARON _stops._ BARON. Quick, quick, Count! Aye, aye, that was a blunder indeed. Don’t you see the dogs? There they run—they have lost the scent. [_Exit_ Baron _looking after the dogs._ COUNT. So much the better, Colonel, for I must take a little breath. [_He leans on his gun_—Frederick _goes up to him with great modesty._] FREDERICK. Gentleman, I beg you will bestow from your superfluous wants something to relieve the pain, and nourish the weak frame, of an expiring woman. _The_ BARON _re-enters._ COUNT. What police is here! that a nobleman’s amusements should be interrupted by the attack of vagrants. FREDERICK. [_to the Baron_]. Have pity, noble Sir, and relieve the distress of an unfortunate son, who supplicates for his dying mother. BARON. [_taking out his purse_]. I think, young soldier, it would be better if you were with your regiment on duty, instead of begging. FREDERICK. I would with all my heart: but at this present moment my sorrows are too great.—[Baron _gives something._] I entreat your pardon. What you have been so good as to give me is not enough. BARON. [_surprised_]. Not enough! FREDERICK. No, it is not enough. COUNT. The most singular beggar I ever met in all my travels. FREDERICK. If you have a charitable heart, give me one dollar.