BARON.
Why don’t you apply to his relations?
FREDERICK.
They disown me, too—I am, they say, related to no one—All the world disclaim me, except my mother—and there again, I have to thank my father.
BARON.
How so?
FREDERICK.
Because I am an illegitimate son.—My seduced mother has brought me up in patient misery. Industry enabled her to give me an education; but the days of my youth commenced with hardship, sorrow, and danger.—My companions lived happy around me, and had a pleasing prospect in their view, while bread and water only were my food, and no hopes joined to sweeten it. But my father felt not that!
BARON.
[to himself]. He touches my heart.
FREDERICK.
After five years’ absence from my mother, I returned this very day, and found her dying in the streets for want—Not even a hut to shelter her, or a pallet of straw—But my father, he feels not that! He lives in a palace, sleeps on the softest down, enjoys all the luxuries of the great; and when he dies, a funeral sermon will praise his great benevolence, his Christian charities.
BARON.
[greatly agitated]. What is your father’s name?
FREDERICK.
—He took advantage of an innocent young woman, gained her affection by flattery and false promises; gave life to an unfortunate being, who was on the point of murdering his father.
BARON.
[shuddering]. Who is he?
FREDERICK.
Baron Wildenhaim.