AGATHA.
Oh! oh!
FREDERICK.
What is the matter? [She bursts into tears.] For heaven’s sake, mother, tell me what’s the matter?
AGATHA.
You have no certificate.
FREDERICK.
No!
AGATHA.
No.—The laws of Germany excluded you from being registered at your birth—for—you are a natural son!
FREDERICK.
[starts—after a pause]. So!—And who is my father?
AGATHA.
Oh Frederick, your wild looks are daggers to my heart. Another time.
FREDERICK.
[endeavouring to conceal his emotion]. No, no—I am still your son—and you are still my mother. Only tell me, who is my father?
AGATHA.
When we parted five years ago, you were too young to be intrusted with a secret of so much importance.—But the time is come when I can, in confidence, open my heart, and unload that burthen with which it has been long oppressed. And yet, to reveal my errors to my child, and sue for his mild judgment on my conduct——
FREDERICK.
You have nothing to sue for; only explain this mystery.