FRANCIS. He used to say, it was whispered abroad, that your father could never look upon you without smiting his breast and sighing, "God be merciful to me, a sinner!"
HERMANN (wildly). Thunder and lightning! No more of this!
FRANCIS. He advised you to sell your patent of nobility by auction, and to get your stockings mended with the proceeds.
HERMANN. By all the devils in hell, I'll scratch out his eyes with my own nails!
FRANCIS. What? you are growing angry? What signifies your anger? What harm can you do him? What can a mouse like you do to such a lion? Your rage only makes his triumph the sweeter. You can do nothing more than gnash your teeth, and vent your rage upon a dry crust.
HERMANN (stamping). I will grind him to powder!
FRANCIS (slapping his shoulder). Fie, Hermann! You are a gentleman. You must not put up with the affront. You must not give up the lady, no, not for all the world, Hermann! By my soul, I would move heaven and earth were I in your place.
HERMANN. I will not rest till I have him, and him, too, under ground.
FRANCIS. Not so violent, Hermann! Come nearer—you shall have Amelia.
HERMANN. That I must; despite the devil himself, I will have her.