_Cast._ Both of his love and him. His soul's at rest; But here your injured patience may behold The signs of his lamented memory. [CHARLEMONT _finds his_ Father's _monument._ He's found it. When I took him for a ghost I could endure the torment of my fear More eas'ly than I can his sorrows hear. [_Exit._ _Charl._ Of all men's griefs must mine be singular? Without example? Here I met my grave. And all men's woes are buried i' their graves But mine. In mine my miseries are born, I prithee, sorrow, leave a little room In my confounded and tormented mind For understanding to deliberate The cause or author of this accident.-- A close advantage of my absence made To dispossess me both of land and wife, And all the profit does arise to him By whom my absence was first moved and urged, These circumstances, uncle, tell me you Are the suspected author of those wrongs, Whereof the lightest is more heavy than The strongest patience can endure to bear. [_Exit._ SCENE II.--_An Apartment in_ D'AMVILLE'S _Mansion_. _Enter_ D'AMVILLE, SEBASTIAN _and_ LANGUEBEAU. _D'Am._ Now, sir, your business? _Sebas._ My annuity. _D'Am._ Not a denier.[159] _Sebas._ How would you ha' me live? _D'Am._ Why; turn crier. Cannot you turn crier? _Sebas._ Yes. _D'Am._ Then do so: y' have a good voice for't. Y'are excellent at crying of a rape.[160] _Sebas._ Sir, I confess in particular respect to yourself I was somewhat forgetful. General honesty possessed me. _D'Am._ Go, th'art the base corruption of my blood; And, like a tetter, growest unto my flesh. _Sebas._ Inflict any punishment upon me. The severity shall not discourage me if it be not shameful, so you'll but put money i' my purse. The want of money makes a free spirit more mad than the possession does an usurer. _D'Am._ Not a farthing. _Sebas._ Would you ha' me turn purse-taker? 'Tis the next way to do't. For want is like the rack: it draws a man to endanger himself to the gallows rather than endure it. _Enter_ CHARLEMONT. D'AMVILLE _counterfeits to take him for a_ Ghost. _D'Am._ What art thou? Stay--Assist my troubled sense-- My apprehension will distract me--Stay. [LANGUEBEAU SNUFFE _avoids him fearfully._ _Sebas._ What art thou? Speak. _Charl._ The spirit of Charlemont. _D'Am._ O! stay. Compose me. I dissolve. _Lang._ No. 'Tis profane. Spirits are invisible. 'Tis the fiend i' the likeness of Charlemont. I will have no conversation with Satan. [_Exit._ _Sebas._ The spirit of Charlemont? I'll try that. [_He strikes, and the blow is returned._ 'Fore God thou sayest true: th'art all spirit. _D'Am._ Go, call the officers. [_Exit._ _Charl._ Th'art a villain, and the son of a villain. _Sebas._ You lie. _Charl._ Have at thee. [_They fight._ SEBASTIAN _falls._ _Enter the_ Ghost _of_ MONTFERRERS. Revenge, to thee I'll dedicate this work.