FRANCIS. How many thousands who have drained the voluptuous bowl of pleasure to the dregs have been reclaimed by suffering! And is not the bodily pain which follows every excess a manifest declaration of the divine will! And shall man dare to thwart this by an impious exercise of affection? Shall a father ruin forever the pledge committed to his charge? Consider, father, if you abandon him for a time to the pressure of want will not he be obliged to turn from his wickedness and repent? Otherwise, untaught even in the great school of adversity, he must remain a confirmed reprobate? And then--woe to the father who by a culpable tenderness bath frustrated the ordinances of a higher wisdom! Well, father? OLD M. I will write to him that I withdraw my protection. FRANCIS. That would be wise and prudent. OLD M. That he must never come into my sight again FRANCIS. 'Twill have a most salutary effect. OLD M. (tenderly). Until he reforms. FRANCIS. Right, quite right. But suppose that he comes disguised in the hypocrite's mask, implores your compassion with tears, and wheedles from you a pardon, then quits you again on the morrow, and jests at your weakness in the arms of his harlot. No, my father! He will return of his own accord, when his conscience awakens him to repentance. OLD M. I will write to him, on the spot, to that effect. FRANCIS. Stop, father, one word more. Your just indignation might prompt reproaches too severe, words which might break his heart--and then--do you not think that your deigning to write with your own hand might be construed into an act of forgiveness? It would be better, I think, that you should commit the task to me? OLD M. Do it, my son. Ah! it would, indeed, have broken my heart! Write to him that-- FRANCIS (quickly). That's agreed, then? OLD M. Say that he has caused me a thousand bitter tears--a thousand sleepless nights--but, oh! do not drive my son to despair! FRANCIS. Had you not better retire to rest, father? This affects you too strongly. OLD M. Write to him that a father's heart--But I charge you, drive him not to despair. [Exit in sadness.]