Char. We both know it.
Jar. I am an old man, madam, and have not a long time to live. I asked but to have died with him, and he dismissed me.
Mrs. Bev. Prithee no more of this! 'Twas his poverty that dismissed you.
Jar. Is he indeed so poor then? Oh! he was the joy of my old heart. But must his creditors have all? And have they sold his house too? His father built it when He was but a prating boy. The times I have carried him in these arms! And, Jarvis, says he, when a beggar has asked charity of me, why should people be poor? You shan't be poor, Jarvis; if I was a king, nobody should be poor. Yet He is poor. And then he was so brave!—O, he was a brave little boy! And yet so merciful, he'd not have killed the gnat that stung him.
Mrs. Bev. Speak to him, Charlotte; for I cannot.
Char. When I have wiped my eyes.
Jar. I have a little money, madam; it might have been more, but I have loved the poor. All that I have is yours.
Mrs. Bev. No, Jarvis; we have enough yet. I thank you though, and will deserve your goodness.
Jar. But shall I see my master? And will he let me attend him in his distresses? I'll be no expence to him: and 'twill kill me to be refused. Where is he, madam?
Mrs. Bev. Not at home, Jarvis. You shall see him another time.