ourselves. It will be an additional profit of at least two thousand a year.

Clerk. Certainly it will.

Chancellor. You will therefore draw immediately for the above sum. If he cannot pay, a warrant must be issued, seals put on, and he will be a bankrupt, and ruined at once: but at the same time do not forget to look after the old uncle.

Clerk. I have heard of an old man who, from the description, appears to resemble him exactly.

Chancellor. For God's sake, take care.

Clerk. Rely upon me.—But, I do not at all like the elder Brook.

Chancellor. Oh, fair and softly goes far; only be on your guard.

(Servant entering.) The coach, my Lord!

Chancellor. Come! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

At Mr. Drave's.

Enter Mr. DRAVE and PHILIP BROOK.

Mr. D. Indeed, Brook, I must confess your inactivity vexes me.

Philip. You mistake for inactivity, a mere external forbearance.

Mr. D. It is easier to complain of mankind, than to act for their welfare. The first is the part of a gloomy, discontented mind; the latter, the virtue of a good citizen, and should be yours.

Philip. Now then I will speak. By my affection for my guiltless and injured uncle, it shall be mine. I am bound, as his relation, to rescue him from captivity. The rights of humanity are injured in his person. Though apparently quiet, I am seeking to revenge him; and what you call inactivity shall not prove without advantage to my country.

Mr. D. If this be so, I commend you.

Philip. I have pretended to bear with indifference, that my designs might not be crossed. My plan both to liberate my uncle, and to entangle a villain in his own snares, is nearly ripe. I have long sought for proofs: I now have them, and the hopes of our worthy Minister's support, if they shall appear to him convincing. The most important witness I still expect.

Mr. D. And who is it?

Philip. My uncle himself. I bribed his keeper to let him escape, and sent persons to meet him. They missed him, and he is gone alone, I know not whither. The Chancellor, as well as myself, is seeking him. When once I have found him, the mine shall blow up.

Mr. D. Heaven bless you, my noble friend!

Enter LEWIS BROOK.

Mr. D. But here comes somebody you must speak to [going up to the door—returns and steps between the two brothers]. The last words of your father on his death-bed were, "Live united like brothers." [Exit. Drave.

Lewis [rather at a loss]. I am glad, indeed, I am happily surprised——

Philip. Happily surprised? I thank you, brother.

Lewis [with feigned interest]. Undoubtedly; it is long since we have met each other.

Philip. It is. [A pause]. Do we live like brothers?

Lewis. Indeed, if all is not right, you are in fault; you require too much.

Philip. Require too much? Your own welfare! brotherly affection! is that too much? Our interviews are prepared by strangers. Things are gone far; and perhaps even this meeting may avail nothing.

Lewis [with seeming politeness]. For my part, you may depend upon me: upon my honour——

Philip. Lewis, I spoke with a full heart, and you answer with outward civilities.

Lewis. You mistake me: I am heartily inclined to a reconciliation.

Philip. So! I should think it unnecessary!

Lewis. How you take that again!

Philip. I apprehended your passion, your reproaches, but was not prepared for your coldness. Well; suspect me, mistake me, offend me, my heart will be still the same. We are brothers; they should never want reconciliation.

Lewis. But why all this?

Philip [with warmth]. If the moment should ever arrive when your confidence in mankind shall be lost—if unexpected misfortunes, or discordant interests, should cause those who now call themselves your friends to desert you, at that moment remember me; entrust your cares with confidence to my bosom! this heart, which you now reject, will ever rejoice to receive you with the affection of a brother. [Exit.

Lewis. Excellent, upon my soul! There he goes, and leaves me like a downright sinner. What have I done to him? was ever such insolence heard of? Fine sentiments upon his lips, and malice in his heart. I have borne with all these hypocrites, till I am tired; and now they shall pay for all.

Enter LISETTE.

Lisette. What, are you here, Mr. Brook! I can hardly believe my eyes.

Lewis. Not trust those charming eyes?

Lisette. You're really here at last?

Lewis. And now I am here?——

Lisette. I am glad you have not forgotten us. [Going.

Lewis. Why in such a hurry to run away?

Lisette. I am looking for Mr. Drave; he is wanted at Rose's Bank; Mr. Rose himself called for him. Has not he been here?

Lewis. Yes, a few minutes ago.

Lisette. Then I will go after him.

Lewis. No, no; let the old fellows look for each other, while we are happy at having met here.

Lisette. You have always some obliging turn ready, but you are never in earnest.

(AUGUSTA enters).

Lewis. Not in earnest, my little charmer! [kisses her.]

Lisette. Mr. Brook! Mr. Brook! [she turns him towards Augusta, and leaves the room, making a low curt'sy].

Lewis. So! my fair Augusta [kisses her hand].

Augusta. In truth, I seem to have made my appearance rather mal-apropos.

Lewis [smiling]. Only offerings at the entrance of the temple of Love.

Augusta. It is long since we have seen you.

Lewis. Only five days; truly happy am I, if they have seemed long.

Augusta. I know your talent for compliments,

Lewis. Truth is not a compliment.

Augusta. Truth towards women is perhaps not your fault.

Lewis. How?

Augusta. In general not the most striking feature in the character of your sex.

Lewis. A sad prejudice, indeed, against our sex! [ironically] but you must except me.

Augusta [smiling]. Dare I?

Lewis. Certainly. I am——

Augusta. Sincerity, constancy itself.

Lewis. Certainly.

Augusta [pointing to the door at which Lisette went out]. There went a proof of your unparalleled fidelity!

Lewis [laughing]. Nay, now, you are——

Augusta. Fortunately, I was the only witness; yet think if your favourite lady had seen it!

Lewis. She would excuse me.

Augusta. But if she also loved