Horatia. [Aside.] He is the worse for liquor! O horrible! and at such a moment! [Aloud.] The soldiers are here—sent to seize you—to drag you to a dungeon, perhaps an ignominious death.
Charles. [Alarmed.] And why? what have I done?
Horatia. I heard the orders given. One hour’s delay will lead you to the scaffold.
Charles. The scaffold!
Horatia. The block.
Charles. The block! why, what is my crime? Why does not my Father come to my assistance?
Horatia. Your Father cannot—he is exiled from his native land. Were he to appear, he must perish too.
Charles. Have you hid him? have you hid him?
Horatia. [Aside.] Horridly drunk! [Aloud.] Put on this dress and fly. It is your only chance of life.
Charles. You have put me into a shiver. I cannot half believe, nor a quarter comprehend you.