Philip. Yes—but you think he will come soon?
Clerk [offended]. Mr. Brook dislikes my company!
Philip. Company in general. [Pointing to a door, and going up to it] Is that the room?
Clerk. Give me leave, Sir: I will inform My Lord of your haste. [Exit.
Philip. Oh, patience, patience! good heaven! in this very room—here—here have I supplicated for my uncle; here have I wept, gone on my knees, to obtain his liberty. My tears were derided, I was driven away.—Then I was but a child—now I am a man; outraged humanity calls upon me. At this very moment, perhaps, my uncle is suffering the extremities of hunger, of misery and despair.—Gracious Heaven, grant me a composed mind!
Clerk entering. My Lord will immediately do himself the honour— please to be seated, Sir.
Philip. I am not fit for conversation: I will walk into the gallery—you will call me. [Exit.
Clerk. A very strange man this!
Counsellor enters. Is he gone?
Clerk. No, he waits in the gallery.