_Philip._ Stop! [gives the Clerk a paper, which he overlooks, and hands to the Chancellor]. Read that--[To the company] From my prison I wrote to our excellent Minister--being released by his warrant, and hearing from Rose what passed here, I hastened to my noble protector, who gave me an order by which all farther proceedings here are stopped, and that wretch is suspended from all his employments, till the justice of his country shall have decided on the punishment so long due to his unparalleled crimes. Oh, my good uncle, my dear Drave, we are now safe. (The Clerk makes off unperceived. The Chancellor starts at the paper, and continues to read it, as if he would never have done). _Philip._ You know the hand writing? _Chancellor_ [folds up the paper with a forced laugh]. _Philip._ Laugh thyself to convulsions, if thou canst. _Chancellor._ Take care, Sir! take care! [Going. _Philip_ [stopping him]. I must look thee in the face once more. Thou art a distinguished villain--Thou hast raised thyself by complicated knavery, from the dust, to exalted power. Thy soul was the price, and thou hast paid it.--Under the mask of religion thou hast been the scourge of many a noble and honest heart.--Now, behold me!--Without blood, without intrigue, armed only with a just cause, I have levelled thee with thy original dust. Go; and if thou seriously believest in a strict trial to come--repent, repent, before the gates of Eternity close upon thy dark spirit for ever. [Exit Chancellor in manifest confusion. _Rose._ Then it is true! _Philip._ Our Minister has observed him with attention; he has long suspected--I have given the blow--his fall is inevitable. _Lewis_ [enters hastily, and embraces Philip]. Oh, my dear brother! _Philip._ My dear Lewis! _Rose_ [tenderly]. Would you not have it so? Drave? _Drave._ Yes, yes. _Lewis._ I am sensible of my faults, and exerted all my efforts to repair the mischief I had occasioned: but my brother alone was worthy, by his virtues, to restore the happiness I had destroyed. Oh, Drave, my father, much-injured father! my mother--Augusta, my Augusta, can you forgive? Can repentance---- _Philip._ Drave, he is my brother, and his heart is good. _Lewis._ Oh, forgive--deny me not this----Augusta, my tutelary angel. _Drave_ [taking Augusta's hand]. Lewis, I believe your repentance sincere. Yet, dear as my daughter is, you will not wonder that I should refuse to resign her to you, till I shall see reason to be satisfied that you are entirely reformed. I confess, however, that I do not feel disposed to put your patience to a very long trial. Those downcast eyes, and this trembling hand, convince me that my decision will be approved. Take it then, Lewis, [giving him Augusta's hand] and live with the hope, I might say the certainty, that I shall shortly bestow it on you for ever. _Lewis._ Oh, my father! it is more than I deserved, or could have dared to hope--never will I give you cause to repent of your confidence.