_Mor._ Indeed! misfortune has made him cruel. That should not be.
_Ash._ Noa, it should not, indeed, zur.
_Mor._ It shall not be.
_Ash._ Shan't it, zur? But how shan't it?
_Mor._ I will prevent it.
_Ash._ Wool ye faith, and troth? Now, dame, did not I zay zome good luck
would turn up?
_Henry._ Oh, sir, did I hear you rightly? Will you preserve my
friends?--will you avert the cruel arm of power, and make the virtuous
happy? my tears must thank you. [_Taking his hand._
_Mor._ [_Disengaging his hand._] Young man, you oppress me--forbear! I
do not merit thanks--pay your gratitude where you are sure 'tis due--to
Heaven. Observe me--here is a bond of Sir Philip Blandford's for
1000_l_.--do you present it to him, and obtain a discharge for the debt
of this worthy man. The rest is at your own disposal--no thanks.
_Henry._ But, sir, to whom am I thus highly indebted?
_Mor._ My name is Morrington. At present that information must suffice.
_Henry._ Morrington.
_Ash._ [_Bowing._] Zur, if I may be so bold--
_Mor._ Nay, friend----
_Ash.
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