FREDERICK.
A bottle of wine—quick, quick!
LANDLORD.
[surprised]. A bottle of wine! For who?
FREDERICK.
For me. Why do you ask? Why don’t you make haste?
LANDLORD.
Well, well, Mr. soldier: but can you pay for it?
FREDERICK.
Here is money—make haste, or I’ll break every window in your house.
LANDLORD.
Patience! Patience! [goes off.
FREDERICK.
[to Agatha]. You were hungry yesterday when I sat down to a comfortable dinner. You were hungry when I partook of a good supper. Oh! Why is so much bitter mixed with the joy of my return?
AGATHA.
Be patient, my dear Frederick. Since I see you, I am well. But I have been very ill: so ill, that I despaired of ever beholding you again.
FREDERICK.
Ill, and I was not with you? I will, now, never leave you more. Look, mother, how tall and strong I am grown. These arms can now afford you support. They can, and shall, procure you subsistence.
[Landlord coming out of the house with a small pitcher.]