_Y. Book._ Words! words! all that is but mere talk. Perhaps, indeed, to undeserved affliction Reason and argument may give relief, Or in the known vicissitudes of life We may feel comfort by our self-persuasion; But oh! there is no taking away guilt: This divine particle will ache for ever. There is no help but whence I dare not ask; When this material organ's indisposed Juleps can cool and anodynes give rest; But nothing mix with this celestial drop, But dew from that high Heaven of which 'tis part. _Lat._ May that high Heaven compose your mind, And reconcile you to yourself. _Y. Book._ How can I hope it? No----I must descend from man, Grovel on earth, nor dare look up again! Oh, Lovemore! Lovemore! Where is he now? Oh, thinking, thinking, why didst thou not come sooner? Or not now!---- My thoughts do so confuse me now--as my folly and pleasures did before this fatal accident--that I cannot recollect whence Lovemore was provoked to challenge me. _Lat._ You know, dear Bookwit, I feared some ill from a careless way of talking. But alas! I dreamt not of so great---- _Y. Book._ Ay, there it was; he was naturally a little jealous. Heavens, do I say he was? I talked to him of ladies, treats, and he might possibly believe 'twas where he had engaged----I remember his serious behaviour on that subject. Oh, this unhappy tongue of mine! Thou lawless, voluble, destroying foe, That still run'st on, nor wait'st command of reason, Oh, I could tear thee from me---- _Lat._ Did you not expostulate before the action? _Y. Book._ He would have don't; but I, flushed with the thoughts of duelling, pressed on----Thus for the empty praise of fools, I'm solidly unhappy. _Lat._ You take it too deeply. Your honour was concerned. _Y. Book._ Honour! The horrid application of that sacred word to a revenge against friendship, law, and reason is a damned last shift of the damned envious foe of human race. The routed fiend projected this, but since the expansive glorious law from Heaven came down----Forgive.[76] _Enter_ TURNKEY. _Turn._ Gentlemen, I come to tell you that you have the favour to be carried in chairs to your indictment, to which you must go immediately. _Lat._ We are ready, sir, _Y. Book._ How shall I bear the eyeshot of the crowd in court? [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--FREDERICK'S _Lodgings._ _Enter_ LOVEMORE, _in a serjeant's gown, and_ FREDERICK. _Love._ Mankind is infinitely beholden to this noble styptic, that could produce such wonderful effects so suddenly. But though my wound was very slight, I'm weak by the effusion of so much blood. _Fred._ Yet after all, you have not lost enough to cool your passion. Your heart still beats, Penelope, Penelope----But in this disguise you have opportunity for observation. You'll see whether you ought still to value her or not. I'm glad you thought of being brought hither as soon as you came to yourself. I expect old Bookwit every moment here---- _Enter_ OLD BOOKWIT. There he is----