Come, Roger. Thee must wear a fresh neck-cloth.

[Roger and Elizabeth exeunt left. There is a very long pause.

DEBORAH.
Will you have tea, Master Franklin?

FRANKLIN.
If it pleases you, Mistress Read.

DEBORAH.
Cream? Sugar?

FRANKLIN.
I thank you.

[She passes him his cup. There is another long pause.

FRANKLIN
(with a great sigh).
'Tis a silent place, Philadelphia!

[Another pause.

FRANKLIN.
Will you have some bread, Mistress?

DEBORAH
(coldly).
I thank you, no.

FRANKLIN
(bluntly).
Have you ever pondered, Mistress, that pride that dines on vanity sups
on contempt?
[Footnote: From "Poor Richard's Almanac."]

DEBORAH
(outraged).
Master Franklin!

FRANKLIN.
I know right well that my poor coat offends you; yet in truth, Mistress
Deborah, why should I dress in finer cloth when silks and satins put
out the kitchen fire.
[Footnote: From "Poor Richard's Almanac."]

DEBORAH.
'Tis not your coat offends me, 'tis----

FRANKLIN.
'Tis that I am neither the son of a gold-laced governor nor a wealthy
merchant but only a poor journeyman printer. Then, Mistress, you have
yet to learn that he who hath a trade hath an estate, and he who hath a
calling hath an office of profit and honor.
[Footnote: From "Poor Richard's Almanac."]

DEBORAH
(with spirit).
There you read me wrong, Master Franklin. I have supped with printers
before this.

FRANKLIN.
Then 'twas the printer's loaf you mocked this morning, Mistress
Deborah; and not the printer. Yet in truth, why should eating in the
street displease you, since 'twas a matter of necessity. Ere fancy you
consult, consult your purse, and my purse was not over full. But--
diligence is the mother of luck, and heaven gives all things to
industry.
[Footnote: From "Poor Richard's Almanac."]

DEBORAH
(with a toss).
You speak as if you and Industry were boon companions.

FRANKLIN.
And what better companion could I have? Heaven helps them that help
themselves.

DEBORAH
(witheringly).
'Tis a fine thing to have high hopes, I doubt not.

FRANKLIN
(blithely).
Oh, I have more than hopes, Mistress Deborah; for he that lives upon
hope will die fasting. To apply one's self right heartily is to do more
than hope. Sloth makes all things difficult; but industry all things
easy. You are not eating, Mistress Deborah. (She rises.) Have my blunt
ways offended you? Have I again displeased you?
[Footnote: From "Poor Richard's Almanac."]

DEBORAH
(with chilling d