_Char._ I am all attention, and listen to you with all that patience which the subject demands. _Helen._ As you know the world, Charles, you cannot wonder that my father (in the main a very good father, but in this respect like all other fathers) should wish to unite his daughter to a man whose rank and fortune-- _Char._ (_Rising in anger_) Spare yourself the trouble of further explanation, madam; I see the whole at once--you are now going to tell me about prudence, duty, obedience, filial affection, and all the canting catalogue of fine phrases that serve to gloss over the giddy frailty of your sex, when you sacrifice the person and the heart at the frequented shrine of avarice and ambition! _Helen._ (_Rising also_) When I am next inclined to descend to explanation, sir, I hope you will be better disposed to attend to me. [_Going._ _Char._ A moment, madam! The whole explanation lies in a word--has not your father concluded a treaty of marriage between you and lord Austencourt? _Helen._ He _has_-- _Char._ There--'tis enough! you have confessed it-- _Helen._ (_Stifling her tears_) Confessed what? you monster! I've confessed nothing. _Char._ Haven't you acknowledged that you are to be the wife of another? _Helen._ No. _Char._ No! won't you consent then? _Helen._ Half an hour ago nothing on earth should have induced me to consent--but since I see, Charles, of what your temper is capable, I shall think it more laudable to risk my happiness by obedience to my father, than by an ill-judged constancy to one who seems so little inclined to deserve it. [_Exit._ _Char._ Hey! where am I! zounds, I see my whole error at once! Oh, Helen, Helen--for mercy's sake one moment more!--She's gone--and has left me in anger! but I will see her again, and obtain her forgiveness--fool, idiot, dolt, ass, that I am, to suffer my cursed temper to master reason and affection at the risk of losing the dearest blessing of life--a lovely and an amiable woman! [_Exit._ _End of Act III._ ACT IV. SCENE I.--O'Dedimus's _office--Enter_ Charles _pulling in_ Ponder _by the collar._ _Char._ This way, sirrah, this way, and now out with your confession, if you expect mercy at my hands. _Pon._ I will, sir, I will: but I expect no mercy at your hands, for you've already handled me most unmercifully--(_Charles shakes him_) what would you please to have me confess, sir? _Char._ I have seen old Abel Grouse--he has told me the story of his daughter's marriage with this amiable cousin of mine: now, sirrah, confess the truth--were you present, or were you not? out with it (_shakes him_). _Pon._ Now pray recollect yourself--do, sir--think a little. _Char._ Recollect myself? _Pon._ Ay, sir, if you will but take time to reflect, you'll give _me_ time to collect my scattered thoughts, which you have completely shaken out of my pericranium. _Char._ No equivocation, answer directly, or though you're no longer my servant, by heavens I'll--