to no one—All the world diſclaim me, except my mother—and there again, I have to thank my father.
Baron.
How ſo?
Frederick.
Becauſe I am an illegitimate ſon.—My ſeduced mother has brought me up in patient miſery. Induſtry enabled her to give me an education; but the days of my youth commenced with hardſhip, ſorrow, and danger.—My companions lived happy around me, and had a pleaſing proſpect in their view, while bread and water only were my food, and no hopes joined to ſweeten it. But my father felt not that!
Baron. [to himſelf].
He touches my heart.
Frederick.
After five years’ abſence from my mother, I returned this very day, and found her dying in the ſtreets for want—Not even a hut to ſhelter her, or a pallet of ſtraw—But my father, he feels not that! He lives in a palace, ſleeps on the ſofteſt down, enjoys all the luxuries of the great; and when he dies, a funeral ſermon will praiſe his great benevolence, his Chriſtian charities.
Baron. [greatly agitated].
What is your father’s name?
Frederick.
—He took advantage of an innocent young woman, gained her affection by flattery and falſe promiſes; gave life to an unfortunate being, who was on the point of murdering his father.
