Mrs. H. Never! To the labour of my hands alone will I owe my sustenance. A morsel of bread, moistened with the tear of penitence, will suffice my wishes, and exceed my merits. It would be an additional reproach, to think that I served myself, or even others, from the bounty of the man whom I had so deeply injured.
Stra. Take it, madam; take it.
Mrs. H. I have deserved this. But I throw myself upon your generosity. Have compassion on me!
Stra. [Aside.] Villain! of what a woman hast thou robbed me!— [Puts up the paper.] Well, madam, I respect your sentiments, and withdraw my request; but on condition, that if you ever should be in want of any thing, I may be the first and only person in the world, to whom you will make application.
Mrs. H. I promise it, my lord.
Stra. And now I may, at least, desire you to take back what is your own—your jewels.
[Gives her the casket.
Mrs. H. [Opens it in violent agitation, and her tears burst upon it.] How well do I recollect the sweet evening when you gave me these! That evening, my father joined our hands; and joyfully I pronounced the oath of eternal fidelity.—It is broken. This locket, you gave me on my birthday—That was a happy day! We had a country feast—How cheerful we all were!—This bracelet, I received after my William was born! No! take them—take them—I cannot keep these, unless you wish, that the sight of them should be an incessant reproach to my almost broken heart.
[Gives them back.
Stra. [Aside.] I must go. My soul and pride will hold no longer. [Turning towards her.] Farewell!—