Landlord re-enters.
Landlord.
Well, what is the matter now?
Frederick.
Make haſte, and get a bed ready for this good woman.
Landlord. [with a ſneer].
A bed for this good woman! ha, ha, ha! She ſlept laſt night in that pent-houſe; ſo ſhe may to-night. [Exit ſhutting the door.
Frederick.
You are an infamous—[goes back to his mother] Oh! my poor mother—[runs to the Cottage at a little diſtance, and knocks]. Ha! halloo! Who is there?
Enter Cottager.
Cottager.
Good day, young ſoldier.—What is it you want?
Frederick.
Good friend, look at that poor woman. She is periſhing in the public road! It is my mother.—Will you give her a ſmall corner in your hut? I beg for mercy’s ſake—Heaven will reward you.
Cottager.
Can’t you ſpeak quietly? I underſland you very well. [Calls at the door of the hut] Wife, ſhake up our bed—here’s a poor ſick woman wants it. [Enter Wife]. Why could not you ſay all this in fewer words? Why ſuch a long preamble? Why for mercy’s ſake, and heaven’s reward? Why talk about reward for ſuch trifles as theſe? Come, let us lead her in; and welcome ſhe ſhall be to a bed, as good as I can give her; and to our homely fare.
