(The Clerk makes off unperceived. The Chancellor starts at the paper, and continues to read it, as if he would never have done).
Philip. You know the hand writing?
Chancellor [folds up the paper with a forced laugh].
Philip. Laugh thyself to convulsions, if thou canst.
Chancellor. Take care, Sir! take care! [Going.
Philip [stopping him]. I must look thee in the face once more. Thou art a distinguished villain—Thou hast raised thyself by complicated knavery, from the dust, to exalted power. Thy soul was the price, and thou hast paid it.—Under the mask of religion thou hast been the scourge of many a noble and honest heart.—Now, behold me!—Without blood, without intrigue, armed only with a just cause, I have levelled thee with thy original dust. Go; and if thou seriously believest in a strict trial to come—repent, repent, before the gates of Eternity close upon thy dark spirit for ever. [Exit Chancellor in manifest confusion.
Rose. Then it is true!
Philip. Our Minister has observed him with attention; he has long suspected—I have given the blow—his fall is inevitable.
Lewis [enters hastily, and embraces Philip]. Oh, my dear brother!
Philip. My dear Lewis!