Landlord.
No, no—the money firſt. One ſhilling and two-pence, if you pleaſe.
[Frederick gives him money.]
Frederick.
This is all I have.—Here, here, mother.
[While ſhe drinks Landlord counts the money.]
Landlord.
Three halfpence too ſhort! However, one muſt be charitable. [Exit Landlord.
Agatha.
I thank you, my dear Frederick — Wine revives me — Wine from the hand of my ſon gives me almoſt a new life.
Frederick.
Don’t ſpeak too much, mother. — Take your time.
Agatha.
Tell me, dear child, how you have paſſed the five years ſince you left me.
Frederick.
Both good and bad, mother. To day plenty—to-morrow not ſo much—And ſometimes nothing at all.
Agatha.
You have not written to me this long while.
Frederick.
Dear mother, conſider the great diſtance I was from you! And then, in the time of war, how often letters miſcarry. — Beſides —
Agatha.
No matter now I ſee you. But have you obtained your diſcharge?
