Frederick.
The man to whoſe breaſt I held my ſword—[trembling].
Amelia.
Was Baron Wildenhaim—the owner of this eſtate—my father!
Frederick [with the greateſt emotion].
My father!
Amelia.
Good heaven, how he looks! I am afraid he’s mad. Here! Francis, Francis.[Exit, calling.
Frederick [all agitation].
My father! Eternal judge! thou do’ſt not ſlumber! The man, againſt whom I drew my ſword this day was my father! One moment longer, and provoked, I might have been the murderer of my father! my hair ſtands on end! my eyes are clouded! I cannot ſee any thing before me. [Sinks down on a chair]. If Providence had ordained that I ſhould give the fatal blow, who, would have been moſt in fault?—I dare not pronounce——after a pauſe] That benevolent young female who left me juſt now, is, then, my ſiſter and I ſuppoſe that fop, who accompanied my father——
Enter Mr. Anhalt.
Welcome, Sir! By your dreſs you are of the church, and conſequently a meſſenger of comfort. You are moſt welcome, Sir.
Anhalt.
I wiſh to bring comfort and avoid upbraidings; for your own conſcience will reproach you more than the voice of a preacher. From the ſenſibility of your countenance, together with a language, and addreſs ſuperior to the vulgar, it ap-
pears,
