SCENE I. A high road, a town at a
distance–A small inn on one side of
the road–A cottage on the other.
AGATHA by the hand out of his house.
LANDLORD. No, no! no room for you any longer–It is the fair to-day
in the next village; as great a fair as any in the German dominions.
The country people with their wives and children take up every corner
AGATHA. You will turn a poor sick woman out of doors who has spent her
last farthing in your house.
LANDLORD. For that very reason; because she _has_ spent her last
AGATHA. I can work.
LANDLORD. You can hardly move your hands.
AGATHA. My strength will come again.
LANDLORD. Then _you_ may come again.
AGATHA. What am I to do? Where shall I go?
LANDLORD. It is fine weather–you may go any where.
AGATHA. Who will give me a morsel of bread to satisfy my hunger?
LANDLORD. Sick people eat but little.
AGATHA. Hard, unfeeling man, have pity.
LANDLORD. When times are hard, pity is too expensive for a poor man.
Ask alms of the different people that go by.
AGATHA. Beg! I would rather starve.
– Lovers’ Vows by Elizabeth Inchbald