_Twi._ It is a great science, notwithstanding--and studied, at present, by all the connoisseurs.--Zounds! I have staid a long time--I can't attend to any more characters at present--Sir Luke and his Lady will think me inattentive, if I don't join them--Shall I see you again?--if not--I wish you a pleasant voyage--I'll make the most of what you have told me--you'll hear I'm a great man--God bless you!--good bye!--you'll hear I'm a great man. [_Exit._ _Mean._ And, if I am not mistaken, I shall hear you are turned out of the house before to-morrow morning. O, Twineall! exactly the _reverse_ of every character have you now before you--the greatest misfortune in the life of Sir Luke has been, flying from his army in the midst of an engagement, and a most humiliating degradation in consequence, which makes him so feelingly alive on the subject of a battle, that nothing but his want of courage can secure my friend Twineall's life for venturing to name the subject--then Lord Flint, firmly _attached_ to the _interest_ of the Sultan, will be all on fire, when he hears of open disaffection--but most of all her Ladyship! whose father was a grocer, and uncle, a noted advertising "Periwig-maker on a new construction." She will run mad to hear of births, titles, and long pedigrees.--Poor Twineall! little dost thou think what is prepared for thee.--There is Mr. Haswell too--but to him have I sent you to be reclaimed--to him,--who, free from faults, or even foibles, of his own, has yet more potently the blessing given, of tenderness for ours. [_Exit._ SCENE II. _The inside of a Prison._ _Several Prisoners dispersed in different situations._ _Enter_ Keeper _and_ Haswell _with lights_. _Keep._ This way, Sir--the prisons this way are more extensive still--you seem to feel for these unthinking men--but they are a set of unruly people, whom no severity can make such as they ought to be. _Has._ And wou'd not gentleness, or mercy, do you think, reclaim them? _Keep._ That I can't say--we never try those means in this part of the world--that man yonder, suspected of disaffection, is sentenced to be here for life, unless his friends can lay down a large sum by way of penalty, which he finds they cannot do, and he is turned melancholy. _Has._ [_After a pause._] Who is that? [_To another._ _Keep._ He has been try'd for heading an insurrection, and acquitted. _Has._ What keeps him here? _Keep._ Fees due to the Court--a debt contracted while he proved his innocence. _Has._ Lead on, my friend--let us go to some other part. [_Putting his hand to his eyes._ _Keep._ In this ward, we are going to, are the prisoners, who by some small reserve--some little secreted stock when they arrived--or by the bounty of some friend who visit them----or suchlike fortunate circumstance, are in a less dismal place. _Has._ Lead on.