out. It is better to enter heaven with one eye than hell with two! "It
is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not
that thy whole body should be cast into hell." These are the words of
the Bible!

OLD M. Wouldst thou have me curse my son?

FRANCIS. By no means, father. God forbid! But whom do you call your
son? Him to whom you have given life, and who in return does his utmost
to shorten yours.

OLD M. Oh, it is all too true! it is a judgment upon me. The Lord has
chosen him as his instrument.

FRANCIS. See how filially your bosom child behaves. He destroys you by
your own excess of paternal sympathy; murders you by means of the very
love you bear him--has coiled round a father's heart to crush it. When
you are laid beneath the turf he becomes lord of your possessions, and
master of his own will. That barrier removed, and the torrent of his
profligacy will rush on without control. Imagine yourself in his place.
How often he must wish his father under ground--and how often, too, his
brother--who so unmercifully impede the free course of his excesses.
But call you this a requital of love? Is this filial gratitude for a
father's tenderness? to sacrifice ten years of your life to the lewd
pleasures of an hour? in one voluptuous moment to stake the honor of an
ancestry which has stood unspotted through seven centuries? Do you call
this a son? Answer? Do you call this your son?

OLD M. An undutiful son! Alas! but still my child! my child!