Stra. No more?
Tob. What could I do with more?—Ah! true; I might—
Stra. I know it.—You might buy your son's release.—There! [Presses a purse into his hand, and exit.
Tob. What is all this? [Opens the purse, and finds it full of gold.] Merciful Heaven!—
Enter Francis.
—Now look, sir: is confidence in Heaven unrewarded?
Fra. I wish you joy! My master gave you this!
Tob. Yes, your noble master. Heaven reward him!
Fra. Just like him. He sent me with his book, that no one might be witness to his bounty.
Tob. He would not even take my thanks. He was gone before I could speak.