_Twi._ Yes; and you see I have got one--and a poor place it is!--in short, Sir, my crime is said to be an offence against the state; and they tell me no friend on earth but you can get that remitted. _Has._ Upon my word, the pardons I have obtained are for so few persons--and those already promised---- _Twi._ O, I know I am no favourite of yours--you think me an impertinent, silly, troublesome fellow, and that my conduct in life will be neither of use to my country nor of benefit to society. _Has._ You mistake me, Sir--I think such glaring imperfections as yours will not be of so much disadvantage to society as those of a less-faulty man.--In beholding your conduct, thousands shall turn from the paths of folly, to which fashion, custom, nature, (or call it what you will) impels them;--therefore, Mr. Twineall, if not pity for your faults, yet a concern for the good effect they may have upon the world (shou'd you be admitted there again) will urge me to solicit your return to it. _Twi._ Sir, you have such powers of oratory--what a prodigious capital quality!--and I doubt not but you are admired by the world equally for that---- _Enter_ Messenger _to_ Haswell. _Mess._ Sir, the Sultan is arrived in the council chamber, and has sent me. [_Whispers._ _Has._ I come.--Mr. Twineall, farewell for the present. [_Exit with_ Messenger. _Twi._ Now, what was that whisper about?--Oh, heavens! perhaps my death in agitation.--I have brought myself into a fine situation!--done it by wheedling too! _2d Keep._ Come, your business with Mr. Haswell being ended, return to your cell. [_Roughly._ _Twi._ Certainly, Sir--certainly!--O, yes!--How happy is this prison in having such a keeper as you!--so mild, so gentle--there is something about you,--I said, and I thought the moment I had the _happiness_ of meeting you here,--Dear me!--what wou'd one give for such a gentleman as him in England!--You wou'd be of infinite service to some of our young bucks, Sir. _2d Keep._ Go to your cell--go to your cell. [_Roughly._ _Twi._ This world wou'd be nothing without elegant manners, and elegant people in all stations of life.--[_Enter_ Messenger, _who whispers second_ Keeper.]--Another whisper! [_Terrified._ _2d Keep._ No; come this way.--The judge is now sitting in the hall, and you must come before him. _Twi._ Before the judge, Sir--O, dear Sir!--what, in this deshabille?--in this coat?--Dear me!--but to be sure one must conform to customs--to the custom of the country where one is.--[_He goes to the door, and then stops._]--I beg your pardon, Sir--wou'd not you chuse to go first? _2d Keep._ No. _Twi._ O! [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _The Council Chamber._ _Enter_ Sultan, Haswell, _and_ Guards. _Has._ Sultan, I have out-run your bounty in my promises; and one poor, unhappy female---- _Sul._ No--you named yourself the number to release, and it is fixed--I'll not increase it. _Has._ A poor, miserable female----