--Scoundrel
that I am!--what is she suffering!--but who, who is this
gentleman?--no matter--she is distress'd, heart breaking! and I, who
have been the cause;--I, who----here----[_Running to a Writing
Table, and opening a Drawer_] Run--fly--despatch!--

_Dennis._ He's mad!

_Frank._ Say, I will be at your house, myself--remember, positively
come, or send, in the course of the day.--In the mean time, take
this, and give it to the person who sent you.

_Giving a Purse, which he has taken from the Drawer._

_Dennis._ A purse!--'faith, and I'll take it.--Do you know how much
is in the inside?

_Frank._ Psha! no.--No matter.

_Dennis._ Troth, now, if I'd trusted a great big purse to a
stranger, they'd have call'd it a bit of a bull:--but let you and I
count it out between us, [_Pouring the Money on the Table._] for,
damn him, say I, who would cheat a poor girl in distress, of the
value of a rap.--One, two, three, &c. [_Counting._

_Frank._ Worthy, honest fellow!

_Dennis._ Eleven, twelve, thirteen--

_Frank._ I'll be the making of your house, my good fellow.

_Dennis._ Damn the Red Cow, sir,--you put me out.--Seventeen,
eighteen, nineteen.--Nineteen fat yellow boys, and a seven shilling
piece.--Tell them yourself, sir; then chalk them up over the
chimney-piece, else you'll forget, you know.

_Frank._ O, friend, when honesty, so palpably natural as yours,
keeps the account, I care not for my arithmetic.--Fly now,--bid the
servants give you any refreshment you chuse; then hasten to execute
your commission.

_Dennis._ Thank your honour!--good luck to you! I'll taste the
beer;--but, by my soul, if the butler comes the Red Cow over me,
I'll tell him, I know sweet from sour. _Exit DENNIS._

_Frank._ Let me read her letter once more. [_Reads._

_I am not going to upbraid you; but after I got your letter, I could
not rest at my father's, where I once knew happiness and
innocence.--I wish'd to have taken a last leave of you, and to beg a
trifling assistance;--but the gentleman who has befriended me in my
wanderings, would not suffer me to do so; yet I could not help
writing, to tell you, I am quitting this neighbourhood for
ever!--That you may never know a moment's sorrow, will always be the
prayer of_
_Your unhappy_
MARY.

My mind is hell to me! love, sorrow