AMELIA.
What’s the matter?
FREDERICK.
The man to whose breast I held my sword——[trembling].
AMELIA.
Was Baron Wildenhaim—the owner of this estate—my father!
FREDERICK.
[with the greatest emotion]. My father!
AMELIA.
Good heaven, how he looks! I am afraid he’s mad. Here! Francis, Francis. [Exit, calling.
FREDERICK.
[all agitation]. My father! Eternal judge! tho do’st slumber! The man, against whom I drew my sword this day was my father! One moment longer, and provoked, I might have been the murderer of my father! my hair stands on end! my eyes are clouded! I cannot see any thing before me. [Sinks down on chair]. If Providence had ordained that I should give the fatal blow, who, would have been most in fault?—I dare not pronounce—[after a pause] That benevolent young female who left me just now, is, then, my sister—and I suppose that fop, who accompanied my father——
Enter MR. ANHALT.
Welcome, Sir! By your dress you are of the church, and consequently a messenger of comfort. You are most welcome, Sir.
MR. ANHALT.
I wish to bring comfort and avoid upbraidings: for your own conscience will reproach you more than the voice of a preacher. From the sensibility of your countenance, together with a language, and address superior to the vulgar, it appears, young man, you have had an education, which should have preserved you from a state like this.
FREDERICK.
My education I owe to my mother. Filial love, in return, has plunged me into the state you see. A civil magistrate will condemn according to the law—A priest, in judgment, is not to consider the act itself, but the impulse which led to the act.