O. Thor. To thee,
Son of my curse. Speak truth and blush, thou monster!
Hast thou not married Winnifred, a maid
Was fellow-servant with thee?
Frank [Aside]. Some swift spirit
Has blown this news abroad; I must outface it.
O. Thor. D’ you study for excuse? why, all the country
Is full on’t.
Frank. With your licence, ’tis not charitable,
I’m sure it is not fatherly, so much
To be o’erswayed with credulous conceit
Of mere impossibilities; but fathers
Are privileged to think and talk at pleasure.
O. Thor. Why, canst thou yet deny thou hast no wife?
Frank. What do you take me for? an atheist?
One that nor hopes the blessedness of life
Hereafter, neither fears the vengeance due
To such as make the marriage-bed an inn,
Which travellers, day and night,
After a toilsome lodging, leave at pleasure?
Am I become so insensible of losing
The glory of creation’s work, my soul?
O, I have lived too long!
O. Thor. Thou hast, dissembler.
Dar’st thou perséver yet, and pull down wrath
As hot as flames of hell to strike thee quick
Into the grave of horror? I believe thee not;
Get from my sight!
Frank. Sir, though mine innocence
Needs not a stronger witness than the clearness
Of an unperished conscience, yet for that
I was informed how mainly you had been
Possessed of this untruth,—to quit all scruple,
Please you peruse this letter; ’tis to you.
O. Thor. From whom?