PAUL.
Charitable! To what?—Your father's pride in the race from which he springs—the race whose iron rule for centuries stamped shame on honest labour—crowned infamy with honour—made gods of profligates and dogs of workingmen—ruining their wives—insulting their mothers—debasing their daughters, and sowing the seeds of madness in their veins?—Ah, Diane! when I face your father, 'tis not your husband who should blush for his race.