Enter Haswell.
Twi. Oh! my dear Mr. Haswell!
[Bursting into tears.
Has. What, in tears at parting with me?—This is a compliment indeed!
Twi. I hope you take it as such—I am sure I mean it as such.—It kills me to leave you—it breaks my heart;—and I once flattered myself such a charitable, good, feeling, humane heart as you possess——
Has. Hold! Hold!—This, Mr. Twineall, is the vice which has driven you to the fatal precipice whereon you are—and in death will you not relinquish it?
Twi. What vice, Sir, do you mean?
Has. Flattery!—a vice that renders you not only despicable, but odious.
Twi. But how has flattery been the cause?
Has. Your English friend, before he left the island, told me what information you had asked from him, and that he had given you the direct opposite of every person's character, as a just punishment for your mean premeditation and designs.