Lewis. Pray, Madam——
Mrs. D. It is over—an abused mother, a deceived fool more or less, what does it signify to a man of fashion? The girl may weep; the mother may be angry—your companions will laugh at such gallantry—why should you alter your conduct?
Lewis. You touch closely there—[hastily]. No, that is too much. [With intreaty] Madam, for God's sake——
Mrs. D. You, Mr. Brook, who never gave us a single hour's comfort, you have reduced us to misery in a single hour. It hurts not your feelings, to see your foster parents ruined, undone by the son of her who was my dearest friend and your mother; by the son of Maria!
Lewis. Oh, forbear!
Mrs. D. You have feigned love to my daughter, have vowed fidelity to her: she loves, and must ever love you.—You forsake her now—She will decline by degrees, and at length sink into her grave, which perhaps—we must beg for her.
Lewis. Oh, cease! cease!
Mrs. D. Should you become a husband, a father—then, when you regard your child as I now do mine, may the remembrance of these moments never sit heavy on your heart!—Now my last word: I release you from all your promises—I forgive you. With this wish let us part for ever—God forgive you, as I do! [Going.
Lewis [detaining her]. Oh, Madam! had not Mr. Drave been so unkind to me, I should now perhaps have been happy with Augusta!—Yes, yes, I love her still; and Heaven be my witness——
Mrs. D. Do not mistake me; I mean not to awaken compassion for my daughter. If you arc sincere, restore my husband.