_Sir Philip._ Demand to see me! well, his _high_ command shall be obeyed then [_Sarcastically_]. Bid him approach. [_Exit_ EVERGREEN. _Enter_ HENRY. _Sir Philip._ By what title, sir, do you thus intrude on me? _Henry._ By one of an imperious nature, the title of a creditor. _Sir Philip._ I _your_ debtor! _Henry._ Yes; for you owe me justice. You, perhaps, withhold from me the inestimable treasure of a parent's blessing. _Sir Philip._ [_Impatiently._] To the business that brought you hither. _Henry._ Thus then--I believe this is your signature. [_Producing a bond._ _Sir Philip._ Ah! [_Recovering himself._] it is-- _Henry._ Affixed to a bond of 1000_l_. which, by assignment, is mine. By virtue of this I discharge the debt of your worthy tenant Ashfield! who, it seems, was guilty of the crime of vindicating the injured, and protecting the unfortunate. Now, Sir Philip, the retribution my hate demands is, that what remains of this obligation may not be now paid to me, but wait your entire convenience and leisure. _Sir Philip._ No! that must not be. _Henry._ Oh, sir! why thus oppress an innocent man?--why spurn from you a heart, that pants to serve you? No answer, farewell. [_Going._ _Sir Philip._ Hold--one word before we part--tell me--I dread to ask it [_Aside._]--How came you possessed of this bond? _Henry._ A stranger, whose kind benevolence stepped in and saved-- _Sir Philip._ His name? _Henry._ Morrington. _Sir Philip._ Fiend! tormenter! has he caught me!--You have seen this Morrington? _Henry._ Yes. _Sir Philip._ Did he speak of me? _Henry._ He did--and of your daughter. "Conjure him," said he, "not to sacrifice the lovely Emma, by a marriage her heart revolts at. Tell him, the life and fortune of a parent are not his own; he holds them but in trust for his offspring. Bid him reflect, that, while his daughter merits the brightest rewards a father can bestow, she is by that father doomed to the harshest fate tyranny can inflict." _Sir Philip._ Torture! [_With vehemence._] Did he say who caused this sacrifice? _Henry._ He told me you had been duped of your fortune by sharpers. _Sir Philip._ Aye, he knows that well. Young man, mark me:--This Morrington, whose precepts wear the face of virtue, and whose practice seems benevolence, was the chief of the hellish banditti that ruined me. _Henry._ Is it possible? _Sir Philip._ That bond you hold in your hand was obtained by robbery. _Henry._ Confusion! _Sir Philip._ Not by the thief who, encountering you as a man, stakes life against life, but by that most cowardly villain, who, in the moment when reason sleeps, and passion is roused, draws his snares around you, and hugs you to your ruin. _Henry._ On your soul, is Morrington that man? _Sir Philip._ On my soul, he is.