Sir Philip. Rash boy! what have you done?
Henry. An act of justice to Sir Philip Blandford.
Sir Philip. For which you claim my thanks?
Henry. Sir, I am thanked already—here. [Pointing to his heart.] Curse on such wealth! compared with its possession, poverty is splendour. Fear not for me—I shall not feel the piercing cold; for in that man, whose heart beats warmly for his fellow creatures, the blood circulates with freedom—My food shall be what few of the pampered sons of greatness can boast of, the luscious bread of independence; and the opiate, that brings me sleep, will be the recollection of the day passed in innocence.
Sir Philip. Noble boy!—Oh Blandford!
Henry. Ah!
Sir Philip. What have I said?
Henry. You called me Blandford.
Sir Philip. 'Twas error—'twas madness.
Henry. Blandford! a thousand hopes and fears rush on my heart. Disclose to me my birth—be it what it may, I am your slave for ever. Refuse me, you create a foe, firm and implacable as——