_Clerk_ [tears the papers to pieces]. There--there are your treacherous schemes. [Aside to the Chancellor] How happy for me that I got hold of them! [To Mrs. D.] Now, where is the old man? Out with him! _Mrs. D._ [with firmness]. Yes! he is here. You shall see him--see him, if you can bear it. [Exit]. _Chancellor._ Is the old uncle here? _Clerk._ Yes, I found him out at last. _Mrs. D._ [entering]. He cannot stir. Go yourself. You may kill him, he says--but he will not stir. _Clerk._ Nonsense! [Exit. Enter Mr. DRAVE. _Mr. D._ Released!--Released! [is going to embrace Mrs. Drave]. _Mrs. D._ [retiring]. Away! unhappy man--go away! _Mr. D._ [perceiving the Chancellor]. You here? _Chancellor._ Yes, fortunately. _Mrs. D._ [embracing Drave.] Now, now, you may kill us--separate us you cannot--never-- _Mr. D._ Who shall dare that? _Chancellor._ The jail. _Mr. D._ What? am I not released by your warrant? _Chancellor._ By an extorted warrant. You would bring me to contempt and shame; but I will have ample revenge. (Servant endeavouring to hold the Old Man, while the Clerk tries to tear him away from him). _Clerk._ Villain! let him go! _Mr. D._ Merciful God! the old Gronau! _Old Man._ Drave, it is your voice--help, save me! _Chancellor._ Off with him! _Mr. D._ Look, at him; he is almost expiring. Rob him of his money, but let his soul depart in peace. _Clerk._ Silence! _Mr. D._ Cease, torturer! He is a dying man--In one hour, perhaps, his soul will be in Heaven, accusing thee of murder----cease! _Chancellor._ Here! Constables! _Mr. D._ My last strength for his grey hairs. (CLERK going, meets PHILIP BROOK.) _Philip_ [joyfully]. Drave, we are saved, we are saved! _Mr. D._ Is it true? _Philip._ It is! it is. _Chancellor._ What mean you, Sir? _Philip_ [seeing the Old Man]. My uncle? kind Heaven, I thank thee! _Old Man._ Who is it? _Mr. D._ Philip! your nephew Philip. _Philip_ [turning to the Chancellor]. Look as him--at this face--those grey hairs--those hands which you put in fetters: fifteen years of his life, of liberty, thou hast stolen from him. _Chancellor_ [laughs]. _Philip._ Feign tranquillity--cover thy horror with hypocrisy: this scene thou canst not bear. Look--look here, at the marks of the chains upon these hands--here I place him before thee: so will he stand before thee in Heaven, with all those whom thou hast wronged and undone; then before the Almighty Judge will he say, "Thou hast given thy soul to eternal perdition, for the love of gain." _Chancellor_ [in a fury]. Off with this fellow! Clerk going to take hold of him.