"Mr. Tyrrel, I see that you are shaken in your animosity. Suffer me to
hail the new-born benevolence of your nature. Go with me to Hawkins. Do
not let us talk of his deserts! Poor fellow! he has suffered almost all
that human nature can endure. Let your forgiveness upon this occasion be
the earnest of good neighbourhood and friendship between you and me."

"No, sir, I will not go. I own there is something in what you say. I
always knew you had the wit to make good your own story, and tell a
plausible tale. But I will not be come over thus. It has been my
character, when I had once conceived a scheme of vengeance, never to
forego it; and I will not change that character. I took up Hawkins when
every body forsook him, and made a man of him; and the ungrateful rascal
has only insulted me for my pains. Curse me, if I ever forgive him! It
would be a good jest indeed, if I were to forgive the insolence of my
own creature at the desire of a man like you that has been my perpetual
plague."

"For God's sake, Mr. Tyrrel, have some reason in your resentment! Let us
suppose that Hawkins has behaved unjustifiably, and insulted you: is
that an offence that never can be expiated? Must the father be ruined,
and the son hanged, to glut your resentment?"

"Damn me, sir, but you may talk your heart out; you shall get nothing of
me. I shall never forgive myself for having listened to you for a
moment. I will suffer nobody to stop the stream of my resentment; if I
ever were to forgive him, it should be at nobody's, entreaty but my own.
But, sir, I never will. If he and all his family were at my feet, I
would order them all to be hanged the next minute, if my power were as
good as my will."