heard my father ſay, that wine is quite a cordial to the heart.
Frederick.
A thouſand thanks, dear ſtranger. Ah! could I prevail on you to have it ſent to my mother, who is upon her death-bed, under the roof of an honeſt peaſant, called Hubert! Take it hence, my kind benefactreſs, and ſave my mother.
Amelia.
But firſt aſſure me that you did not intend to murder my father.
Frederick.
Your father! heaven forbid.—I meant but to preſerve her life, who gave me mine.—Murder your father! No, no—I hope not.
Amelia.
And I thought not—Or, if you had murdered any one, you had better have killed the Count; nobody would have miſſed him.
Frederick.
Who, may I enquire, were thoſe gentlemen, whom I hoped to frighten into charity?
Amelia.
Ay, if you only intended to frighten them, the Count was the very perſon for your purpoſe. But you caught hold of the other gentleman.—And could you hope to intimidate Baron Wildenhaim?
Frederick.
Baron Wildenhaim!—Almighty powers!
Amelia.
What’s the matter?
