MARIA. And now as to her present exigencies?

JEFFERSON. To what may they amount?

MARIA. About a thousand.

JEFFERSON. 'Tis quite impossible.

MARIA. Less will not do.

JEFFERSON. Besides the mischief I have done my master,
I stand myself upon the verge of ruin.

MARIA. Were you to see her, you'd not lose a moment
In this last act, so be yourself the messenger.

JEFFERSON. First, tell her then, that she shall be supply'd,
Let the event be fatal as it may.

MARIA. Most gen'rous youth! she shall know all your goodness. [She
goes off.]

JEFFERSON. How quickly every resolution vanishes!
And how am I now chang'd from what I was!

Like some weak skiff, that for a while had stood
Safe on the tranquil bosom of the flood;
Until at length, the mountain torrents sweep
Its faint resistance headlong to the deep,
Where in large gulps the foamy brine it drinks,