I thought for my part, that I looked as foolish.
—But I hope I did not hesitate.

  MR. LUCRE.

Nor ever will, when a friend applys to you,
I'll answer for it—Nor ever shall a friend hesitate
when you apply.

  LORD HAZARD. [Taking Sir George aside.

The obligations I am under to you for extricating
me from that dangerous business—

  SIR GEORGE.

Never name it.

  LORD HAZARD.

Not only name it, Sir George, but shortly I
hope to return the kindness; and, if I do but
live——

  SIR GEORGE. [To the company.

Permit me to conduct you to the next apartment.

  LADY CAROLINE.

Most willingly, Sir George. I was the first
who arrived; which proves my eagerness to
dance.

  SIR GEORGE. [Aside to her.

But let me hope, passion for dancing was not
the only one, that caused your impatience.

  [As the company move towards the ball-room,
Mr. Lucre and Lord Hazard come
forward.   MR. LUCRE.

Oh! there never was such a man in the world
as the master of this house; there never was
such a friendly, generous, noble heart; he has
the best heart in the world, and the best taste
in dress.

[The company Exeunt, and the music is heard
to begin.    

SCENE II.   An Apartment, which denotes
the Poverty of the Inhabitants. Henry
and Eleanor discovered.

  ELEANOR.

It is very late and very cold too, brother;
and yet we have neither of us heart to bid each
other good night.

  HENRY.

No—beds were made for rest.

  ELEANOR.

And that noise of carriages and link-boys at
Sir George Splendorville's, next door, would keep
us awake, if our sorrows did not.

  HENRY.

The poor have still more to complain of,
when chance throws them thus near the rich,—it
forces upon their minds a comparison might
drive them to despair, if—

  ELEANOR.

—If they should not have good sense enough
to reflect, that all this bustle and show of pleasure,
may fall very short of happiness; as all the
distress we feel, has not yet, thank Heaven, reached
to misery.

  HENRY.

What do you call it then?

  ELEANOR.

A trial; sent to make us patient.

  HENRY.

It may make you so, but cannot me. Good
morning to you.

[Going.   ELEANOR.

Nay, it is night yet. Where are you going?

  HENRY.

I don't know.—To take a walk.—The streets
are not more uncomfortable than this place, and
scarcely colder.

  ELEANOR.

Oh, my dear brother! I cannot express half
the uneasiness I feel when you part from me,
though but for the shortest space.

  HENRY.

Why?

  ELEANOR.

Because I know your temper; you are impatient
under adversity; you rashly think providence
is unkind; and you would snatch those
favours, which are only valuable when bestowed.

  HENRY.

What do you mean?

  ELEANOR.

Nay, do not be angry; but every time you
go out into this tempting town, where superfluous
riches continually meet the eye of the poor,
I tremble lest you should forfeit your honesty
for that, which Heaven decreed should not belong
to you.

  HENRY.

And if I did, you would despise and desert
me?

  ELEANOR.

No: not desert you; for I am convinced you
would only take, to bring to me; but this is to
assure you, I do not want for any thing.

  HENRY.

Not want?—Nor does my father?

  ELEANOR.

Scarcely, while we visit him. Every time he
sees us we make him happy; but he would never
behold us again if we behaved unworthy of him.

  HENRY.

What! banish us from a prison?

  ELEANOR.

And although it is a prison, you could not
be happy under such a restriction.

  HENRY.

Happy!—When was I happy last?

  ELEANOR.

Yesterday, when your father thanked you for
your kindness