Enter Frederick and Lovemore.
Pen. Good morrow, sir. I believe I know your business: you're officious for your friend——But I am deaf.
Fred. I know you are, and have been; but I come only to do him a last office. He'll trouble you no more, but I must conjure you to read this, and inform this learned gentleman what you know of this misfortune.
Pen. [Reading.] "Your cruelty provoked me to desire the favour of dying by Mr. Bookwit's hand, since he had taken from me more than life in robbing me of you——farewell for ever——I direct Frederick not to give you this till I am no more." Writ in his blood! "Till I am no more!" Lovemore no more! Thou shalt not be no more——thou shalt live here for ever. Here, thou dearest paper, mingle with my life's stream; either the paper bleeds anew, or my eyes weep blood. So let 'em do forever——Oh, my Lovemore! did the vanity of a prating boy banish thy solid services and manly love?
Fred. This is no reparation to him for his lost life, nor me for my lost friend. Yet when you please to receive 'em, I am obliged to deliver you some papers, wherein he has given you all the fortune he could bestow, nor would revoke it, even thus injured as he was.
Pen. Curse on all wealth and fortune! He—he is gone who only deserved all, and whose worth I know too late!
Love. [To Fred.] Oh, ecstasy! Why was I angry at her rejoicing at my sorrow, when hers to me is such a perfect bliss? 'Tis barbarous not to discover myself.
Fred. [To Love.] Do, and be used barbarously——But, madam, you must be composed. Your life, for ought I know, is at stake; for there is no such thing as accessories in murder; and it can be proved you knew of Lovemore's threatening to fight Bookwit. You must either take your trial yourself, or be Mr. Bookwit's witness.
Pen. I his witness! No, I'll swear anything to hang him.