BARON. This is the first time I was ever dictated by a beggar what to give him. FREDERICK. With one dollar you will save a distracted man. BARON. I don’t choose to give any more. Count, go on. [_Exit_ Count—_as the_ Baron _follows_, Frederick _seizes him by the breast and draws his sword._] FREDERICK. Your purse, or your life. BARON. [_calling_]. Here! here! seize and secure him. [_Some of the Gamekeepers run on, lay hold of_ Frederick, _and disarm him._] FREDERICK. What have I done! BARON. Take him to the castle, and confine him in one of the towers. I shall follow you immediately. FREDERICK. One favour I have to beg, one favour only.—I know that I am guilty, and am ready to receive the punishment my crime deserves. But I have a mother, who is expiring for want—pity her, if you cannot pity me—bestow on her relief. If you will send to yonder hut, you will find that I do not impose on you a falsehood. For her it was I drew my sword—for her I am ready to die. BARON. Take him away, and imprison him where I told you. FREDERICK. [_as he is forced off by the keepers_]. Woe to that man to whom I owe my birth! [_Exit._ BARON. [_calls another Keeper_]. Here, Frank, run directly to yonder hamlet, inquire in the first, second, and third cottage for a poor sick woman—and if you really find such a person, give her this purse. [_Exit Gamekeeper._] BARON. A most extraordinary event!—and what a well-looking youth! something in his countenance and address which struck me inconceivably!—If it is true that he begged for his mother—But if he did——for the attempt upon my life, he must die. Vice is never half so dangerous, as when it assumes the garb of morality. [_Exit._] SCENE II. _A room in the Castle._ AMELIA. [_alone._] Why am I so uneasy; so peevish; who has offended me? I did not mean to come into this room. In the garden I intended to go [_going, turns back_]. No, I will not—yes, I will—just go, and look if my auriculas are still in blossom; and if the apple tree is grown which Mr. Anhalt planted.—I feel very low-spirited—something must be the matter.—Why do I cry?—Am I not well? _Enter Mr._ ANHALT. Ah! good morning, my dear Sir—Mr. Anhalt, I meant to say—I beg pardon. MR. ANHALT. Never mind, Miss Wildenhaim—I don’t dislike to hear you call me as you did. AMELIA. In earnest? MR. ANHALT. Really. You have been crying. May I know the reason? The loss of your mother, still?— AMELIA. No—I have left off crying for her. MR. ANHALT. I beg pardon if I have come at an improper hour; but I wait upon you by the commands of your father. AMELIA. You are welcome at all hours. My father has more than once told me that he who forms my mind I should always consider as my greatest benefactor. [_looking down_] And my heart tells me the same. MR. ANHALT. I think myself amply rewarded by the good opinion you have of me. AMELIA. When I remember what trouble I have sometimes given you, I cannot be too grateful.