But they are fools. I want him to believe
me beggared by him.
Bates. And what then?

Bed. No; think'st thou I'd ruin thee too? have enough of shame already-My wife! my wife! Wouldst thou believe it, Jarvis? I have Stuke. Ay, there's the question; but no not seen her all this long night-I, who have matter; at night you may know more. He loved her so, that every hour of absence seemed waits for me at Wilson's.-I told the women as a gap in life! but other bonds have held where to find him. e—Oh, I have played the boy! dropping my counters in the stream, and reaching to re deem them, lost myself!

Bates. To what purpose?

Stuke. To save suspicion. It looked friendly, and they thanked me.-Old Jarvis was dispatched to him.

Bates. And may entreat him homeStuke. No; he expects money from me, but I'll have none. His wife's jewels must go

me

Jar. For pity's sake, sir!—I have no heart to see this change.

Bec. Nor I to bear it-How speaks the world of me, Jarvis?

Jar. As of a good man dead-Of one who, Women are easy creatures, and refuse walking in a dream, fell down a precipice. nothing where they love. Follow to Wilson's The world is sorry for you. --Come, sir.

Let drudging fools by honesty grow great;
The shorter road to riches is deceit.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-A Gaming-house, with a Table,
Box, Dice, etc.

BEVERLEY discovered sitting.

Beo. Ay, and pities me- Says it not so? But I was born to infamy. I'll tell thee what it says; it calls me villain, a treacherous husband, a cruel father, a false brother, one lost to nature and her charities; or, to say all in one short word, it calls me-gamester. Go to thy mistress-I'll see her presently."

Jar. And why not now? Rude people press upon her; loud, bawling creditors; wretches Beo. Why, what a world is this! The slave who know no pity-I met one at the doorthat digs for gold receives his daily pittance, he would have seen my mistress: I wanted and sleeps contented; while those for whom means of present payment, so promised it tohe labours convert their good to mischief, morrow: but others may be pressing, and she making abundance the means of want. What has grief enough already.—Your absence bangs had I to do with play? I wanted nothing-too heavy on her.

My wishes and my means were equal. The Beo. Tell her I'll come then. I have a mopoor followed me with blessings, love scattered ment's business. But what hast thou to do roses on my pillow, and morning waked me with my distresses? Thy honesty has left thee to delight-Oh, bitter thought, that leads to poor; and age wants comfort. Keep what what I was, by what I am! I would forget thou hast, lest, between thee and the grave, both-Who's there? misery steal in. I have a friend shall counsel me- This is that friend.

Enter a Waiter.

Wait. A gentleman, sir, inquires for you. Bev. He might have used less ceremony. Stukely, I suppose?

Wait. No, sir, a stranger.

Beo. Well, show him in. [Exit Waiter] A messenger from Stukely then; from him that has undone me! yet all in friendship And now he lends me his little to bring back fortune to me.

Enter JARVIS. Jarvis!-Why this intrusion ?—Your absence had been kinder.

Jar. I came in duty, sir. If it be trouble

some

Bev. It is I would be private-hid even from myself. Who sent you hither?

Jar. One that would persuade you home again. My mistress is not well-her tears told

me so.

Bee. Go with thy duty there then-Pr'ythee, be gone-I have no business for thee.

Jar. Yes, sir; to lead you from this place. 1 am your servant still. Your prosperous fortune blessed my old age: If that has left you, I must not leave you.

Enter STUKELY.

Stuke. How fares it, Beverley? Honest Mr. Jarvis, well met. That viper, Williams! was it not he that troubled you this morning? Jar. My mistress heard him then; I am sorry that she heard him.

Beo, And Jarvis promised payment.

Stuke. That must not be. Tell him I'll sa tisfy him.

Jar. Will you, sir? Heaven will reward you for it.

Bec. Generous Stukely! Friendship lik yours, had it ability like will, would more tha balance the wrongs of fortune.

Stuke. You think too kindly of me — -Mak haste to Williams; his clamours may be rud else. [To Jarci Jar. And my master will go home againAlas! sir, we know of hearts there breakin for his absence. [E.x

Bee. 'Would I were dead! Stuke. Ha! ha! ha! Pr'ythee, be a man, ar leave dying to disease and old age. Fortu may be ours again; at least we'll try_fort. Beo. No; it has fooled us on too far. Beo. Not leave me! Recall past time then; Stuke. Ay, ruined us; and therefore or, through this sea of storms and darkness, sit down contented. These are the despor show me a star to guide me.--But what canst ings of men without money; but let the shi thou? ing ore chink in the pocket, and folly

Jar. The little that I can I will. You have to wisdom. We are fortune's children-Tr been generous to me--I would not offend you, she's a fickle mother; but shall we droop i sir-butcause she's peevish? -No: she has smiles

store, and these her frowns are meant to bright-| Stuke. No matter; I have changed my mind en them. -Leave me to a prison; 'tis the reward of

Bev. Is this a time for levity?-But you friendship. are single in the ruin, and therefore may talk. Bev. Perish mankind first!--Leave you to lightly of it; with me 'tis complicated misery. a prison! No! fallen as you see me, I'm not Stuke. You censure me unjustly; I but as- that wretch: nor would I change this heart, sumed these spirits to cheer my friend. Heav- o'ercharged as 'tis with folly and misfortune, en knows he wants a comforter. for one most prudent and most happy, if calBev. What new misfortune?, lous to a friend's distress.

Stuke. I would have brought you money, but lenders want securities. What's to be done? All that was mine is yours already."

Stuke. You are too warm.

Beo. In such a cause, not to be warm is to be frozen. Farewell-I'll meet you at your

Bec. And there's the double weight that lodgings. sinks me. I have undone my friend too; one

Stuke. Reflect a little.-The jewels may be who, to save a drowning wretch, reached out lost-Better not hazard them-I was too presbis hand, and perished with him. Stuke. Have better thoughts.

Bec. Whence are they to proceed? I have nothing left.

Stuke.[Sighing] Then we're indeed undoneWhat! nothing? No moveables, nor useless trinkets?-Bawbles locked up in caskets, to starve their owners? I have ventured deeply

for you.

Be. Therefore this heart-ache; for I am lost beyond all hope.

Stuke. No; means may be found to save us.—Jarvis is rich-Who made him so? This is no time for ceremony.

sing.

Beo. And I ungrateful. Reflection takes up time.-I have no leisure for't-Within an hour expect me. [Exit.

Stuke. The thoughtless, shallow prodigal! We shall have sport at night then-but hold -The jewels are not ours yet-The lady may refuse them-The husband may relent too'Tis more than probable-I'll write a note to Beverley, and the contents shall spur him to demand them-But am I grown this rogue through avarice? No; I have warmer motives, love and revenge-Ruin the husband, and the wife's virtue may be bid for.

Enter BATES.

Look to your men, Bates; there's money stirring. We meet to-night upon this spot. Hasten, and tell them.-Hasten, I say, gues will scatter else.

Bev. And is it for dishonesty? The good old man! Shall I rob him too? My friend would grieve for't.-No; let the little that he bas buy food and clothing for him. Stuke. Good morning then. [Going. Bev. So hasty! why, then good morning. Stuke. And when we meet again upbraid me-Say it was I that tempted you-Tell Lewson so, and tell him I have wronged you I -He has suspicions of me, and will thank you. siness. Bev. No; we have been companions in rash voyage, and the same storm has wrecked us both: mine shall be self-upbraidings. Stuke. And will they feed us? You deal unkindly by me. I have sold and borrowed for

a

the ro

Bates. Not till their leader bids them. Stuke. Give them the word, and follow me; must advise with you-This is a day of bu[Exeunt.

SCENE II-BEVERLEY'S Lodgings.
Enter BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE.
Char. Your looks are changed too;-there's

will it grieve her to see you thus!

you while land or credit lasted; and now, wildness in them. My wretched sister! How when fortune should be tried, and my heart whispers me success, I am deserted-turned Bev. No, no; a little rest will ease me. And loose to beggary, while you have hoards. for your Lewson's kindness to her it has my Beg. What hoards? Name them, and take thanks; I have no more to give him.

them!

unusual hopes.
Bec. Think of some other means then.
Stuke. I have, and you rejected them.
Be. Pr'ythee let me be a man.

Stuke. Ay, and your friend a poor oneBut I have done: and for these trinkets of a woman, why let her keep them to deck her pride with, and show a laughing world that she has finery to starve in.

Char. Yes; a sister and her fortune. I trifle with him, and he complains-My looks, he says, are cold upon him. He thinks too

Beo. That I have lost your fortune-He dares not think so.

Char. Nor does he-you are too quick at guessing-He cares not if you had. That care is mine-I lent it you to husband, and now I claim it.

Bev. You have suspicions then?
Char. Cure them, and give it me.
Bev. To stop a sister's chidings?
Char. To vindicate her brother.
Bev. How if he needs no vindication?
Char. I would fain hope so.
Bev. Ay; would and cannot-
time then; 'twill satisfy all doubts.
Char. Mine are already satisfied.

--

- Leave it to

Bes. No; she shall yield up all-My friend demands it. But need we have talked lightly of her? The jewels that she values are truth Bec. 'Tis well. And when the subject is and innocence-Those will adorn her for ever; renewed, speak to me like a sister, and I will and, for the rest, she wore them for a bus- answer like a brother.

band's pride, and to his wants will give them. Char. To tell me I'm a beggar.-Why, tell Alas! you know her not.Where shall we meet? it now. I, that can bear the ruin of those

dearer to me the ruin of a sister and her ripens manhood in him, shall ripen vice too-
infant, can bear that too.
I'll prove him, and lay him open to you-
Beo. No more of this-you wring my heart. Till then be warned-I know him, and there-
Char. 'Would that the misery were all your fore shun him.
own! But innocence must suffer-Unthinking Beo. As I would those that wrong him.-
rioter!-whose home was heaven to him! an You are too busy, sir.
angel dwelt there, and a little cherub, that
crown'd his days with blessings.-How has he haps-That had been milder.
lost this heaven, to league with devils!

Beo. Forbear, I say; reproaches come too
late--they search, but cure not. And, for the
fortune you demand, we'll talk to-morrow on't
-our tempers may be milder.

Mrs. B. No; not too busy-Mistaken, per

Lew. No matter, madam. I can bear this, and praise the heart that prompts' it-Pity such friendship should be so placed!

Bev. Again, sir! But I'll bear too - You wrong him, Lewson, and will be sorry for't. Char. Ay; when 'tis proved he wrongs him. The world is full of hypocrites.

Char. Or, if 'tis gone, why farewell all. I claimed it for a sister.-But I'll upbraid no more. What heaven permits, perhaps it may Beo. And Stukely one-so you would infer, ordain.-Yet, that the husband, father, brother, I think.-I'll hear no more of this-my heart should be its instruments of vengeance!-'Tis aches for him-I have undone him. grievous to know that! Lew. The world says otherwise.

Beo. If you're my sister spare the remem- Beo. The world is false then-I have busibrance-it wounds too deeply. To-morrow ness with you, love. [To Mrs. Beverley] shall clear all; and when the worst is known, We'll leave them to their rancour. [Going. it may be better than your fears. Comfort my Char. No; we shall find room within fort. wife; and for the pains of absence I'll make -Come this way, sir.

atonement.

Char. See where she comes!-Look cheer-
fully upon her Affections such as hers are
prying, and lend those eyes that read the soul.

Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and LEWSON.
Mrs. B. My life!

Beo. My love! how fares it? I have been
a truant husband.

[To Lewson Lew. Another time my friend will thank me; that time is hastening too.

[Exeunt Lewson and Charlotte, Bev. They hurt me beyond bearing - Is Stukely false! Then honesty has left us! 'Twere sinning against heaven to think so.

Mrs. B. I never doubted him. Beo. No; you are charity. Meekness and ever-during patience live in that heart, and love that knows no change.—Why did I ruin

I have s

Mrs. B. But we meet now, and that heals all-Doubts and alarms I have had; but in you? this dear embrace I bury and forget them. My Mrs. B. You have not ruined me. friend here, [Pointing to Lewson] has been no wants when you are present, nor wishe indeed a friend. Charlotte, 'tis you must thank in your absence, but to be blest with you him: your brother's thanks and mine are of return. Be but resigned to what has happened too little value. and I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice Bev. Yet what we have we'll pay. I thank Beo. My generous girl!-But memory wil you, sir, and am obliged. I would say more, but be busy; still crowding on my thoughts, that your goodness to the wife upbraids the sour the present by the past. I have anothe husband's follies. Had I been wise, she had pang too. not trespassed on your bounty.

The little I

Lew. Nor has she trespassed.
have done acceptance overpays.
Char. So friendship thinks-
Mrs. B. And doubles obligations by striving
to conceal them-We'll talk another time on't
-You are too thoughtful, love.

Bev. No; I have reason for these thoughts.
Char. And hatred for the cause-'Would
you had that too!

Beo. I have-The cause was avarice.
Char. And who the tempter?
Beo. A ruined friend-ruined by too much
kindness.

Mrs. B. Tell it, and let me cure it. Bev. That friend-that generous friend whose fame they have traduced-I have un done him too. While he had means he lea me largely; and now a prison must be bi portion.

Mrs. B. No; I hope otherwise. Beo. To hope must be to act. The chari table wish feeds not the hungry-Somethin must be done.

Mrs. B. What?

Bev. In bitterness of heart he told me, ju now he told me, I had undone him. Con I hear that, and think of happiness? No, Lew. Ay, worse than ruined; stabbed in his have disclaimed it while he is miserable. fame, mortally stabbed-riches can't cure him. Mrs. B. The world may mend with us, an Bee. Or if they could, those I have drained then we may be grateful. There's comfort him of. Something of this he hinted in the that hope.

Enter Lucy.

morning-that Lewson had suspicions of him Beo. Ay, 'tis the sick man's cordial, his pr
-Why these suspicions?
[Angrily.mised cure; while, in preparing it, the patie
Lew. At school we knew this Stukely. A dies-What now?
cunning, plodding boy he was, sordid and
cruel, slow at his task, but quick at shifts and
tricking. He schemed out mischief, that others
might be punished; and would tell his tale
with so much art, that for the lash he merited,|
rewards and praise were given him. Show
me a boy with such a mind, and time, that I'll hope so-VVhat says he, love?

Lucy. A letter, sir. [Delivers it, and exi
Bev. The hand is Stukely's.

[Opens it, and reads it to himsel
Mrs. B. And brings good news-
-at lea

Bec. Why this-too much for patience. ther. The dwarf that has it shall trip the Yet he directs me to conceal it from you. giant's heels up.

[Reads. Stuke. And bind him to the ground. Why, Let your haste to see me be the only proof we'll erect a shrine for nature, and be her of your esteem for me. I have determined, oracles. Conscience is weakness; fear made since we parted, to bid adieu to England; it, and fear maintains it. The dread of shame, choosing rather to forsake my country, inward reproaches, and fictitious burnings swell than owe my freedom in it to the means out the phantom. Nature knows none of this; we talked of. Keep this a secret at home, her laws are freedom. R. STUKELY.

and hasten to the ruined.

Bates. Sound doctrine, and well delivered! Ruined by friendship!-I must relieve or Stuke. We are sincere too, and practise follow him. what we teach. Let the grave pedant say as Mrs. B. Follow him did you say? Then I much.-But now to business-The jewels are am lost indeed! disposed of, and Beverley again worth money. Bec. Oh, this infernal vice! how has it sunk If my design succeeds, this night we finish me! A vice, whose highest joy was poor to with him-Go to your lodgings, and be busy my domestic happiness. Yet how have I pur--You understand conveyances, and can make sued it! turned all my comforts to bitterest ruin sure. pangs, and all my smiles to tears. Damned, damned infatuation!

Bates. Better stop here. The sale of this reversion may be talked of-There's danger

Mrs. B. Be cool, my life! What are the in it. means the letter talks of? Have you-have I Stuke. No, 'tis the mark I aim at. We'll those means? Tell me, and ease me. I have thrive and laugh. You are the purchaser, and no life while you are wretched.

Bev. No, no; it must not be. 'Tis I alone have sinned; 'tis I alone must suffer. You shall reserve those means, to keep my child and his wronged mother from want and wretchedness. Mrs. B. What means?

Bec, I came to rob you of them-but cannot-dare not-Those jewels are your sole support-I should be more than mouster to request them.

wealth is of less value.

there's the payment. [Giving a Pocket-book] He thinks you rich; and so you shall be. Inquire for titles, and deal hardly; 'twill look like honesty.

Bates. How if he suspects us?

Stuke. Leave it to me. I study hearts, and when to work upon them. Go to your lodgings; and if we come, be busy over papers. Talk of a thoughtless age, of gaming and extravagance; you have a face for't. Mrs. B. My jewels! Trifles, not worth speak- Bates. A feeling too that would avoid it. ing of, if weighed against a husband's peace; We push too far; but I have cautioned you. but let them purchase that, and the world's If it ends ill, you'll think of me-adieu. [Exit. Stuke. This fellow sins by halves; his fears Bev. How little do I seem before such virtues! are conscience to him. I'll turn these fears to Mrs. B. No more, my love. I kept them use. Rogues that dread shame will still be til occasion called to use them; now is the greater rogues to hide their guilt-Lewson occasion, and I'll resign them cheerfully. grows troublesome-We must get rid of him Bes. Why, we'll be rich in love then. But He knows too much. I have a tale for Bevthis excess of kindness melts me. Yet for a erley; part of it truth too-He shall call Lewfriend one would do much-He has denied son to account-If it succeeds, 'tis well; if me nothing. not, we must try other means — -But here he Mrs. B. Come to my closet-But let him comes-I must dissemble. manage wisely. We have no more to give him. Bec. Where learned my love this excellence? Tis heaven's own teaching: that heaven, which Look to the door there!--[In a seeming Fright] to an angel's form has given a mind more -My friend !-I thought of other visitors. lovely. I am unworthy of you, but will de- Bec. No; these shall guard you from them. serve you better.

Henceforth my follies and neglects shall cease,
And all to come be penitence and peace;
Vice shall no more attract me with her charms,
Nor pleasure reach me, but in these dear arms,
[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I-STUKELY's Lodgings.
Enter STUKELY and BATES.

Enter BEVERLEY.

[Offering Notes] Take them, and use them cautiously-The world deals hardly by us.

Stuke. And shall I leave you destitute? No; your wants are the greatest. Another climate may treat me kinder. The shelter of to-night takes me from this.

Rev. Let these be your support then-Yet is there need of parting? I may have means again; we'll share them, and live wisely. Stuke. No; I should tempt you on. Habit Stuke. So runs the world, Bates. Fools are is nature in me: ruin can't cure it. Even now the natural prey of knaves; nature designed I would be gaming. Taught by experience as them so, when she made lambs for wolves. I am, and knowing this poor sum is all that's The laws, that fear and policy have framed, left us, I am for venturing still-And say I Dature disclaims: she knows but two, and those am to blame-Yet will this little supply our are force and cunning. The nobler law is wants? No; we must put it out to usury; re; but then there's danger in't; while cun- Whether 'tis madness in me, or some restless sing, like a skilful miner, works safely and impulse of good fortune, I yet am ignorant;

aaseen.

but

Bates. And therefore wisely. Force must Beo. Take it, and succeed then. I'll try no e nerves and sinews; cunning wants nei-more.

Mrs. B. No, I am sure it was not-Stukely I am open in my nature, and zealous for the is honest too, I know he is.-This madness honour of my friend-Lewson speaks freely has undone them both.

Stuke. I can forgive him for't; but, for my with a few kind words, will steal away your friend, I'm angry.

Beo. He shall be silenced then-How heard [Warmly] I live but to oblige him. She you of it?

who can love and is beloved, like me, will do Stuke. From many. He questioned Bates as much. Men have done more for mistressabout it. You must account with him, he says. es, and women for a base deluder: and shall Beo. Or he with me-and soon too. a wife do less? Your chidings hurt me, Charlotte. Stuke. Speak mildly to him. Cautions Char. And come too late; they might have are best. saved you else. How could he use you so? Mrs. B. 'Twas friendship did it. His heart was breaking for a friend.

Bec. I'll think on't-But whither go you? Stuke. From poverty and prisons-No matter whither. If fortune changes, you may

Stuke. I'll not persuade you. Bec. I am persuaded; by reason too; the We were just speaking of you. strongest reason, necessity. Oh, could I but Lew. 'Tis best to interrupt you then. Fe regain the height I have. fallen from, heaven characters will bear a scrutiny; and who should forsake me in my latest hour, if I again the bad outweighs the good, he's safest tha mixed in these scenes, or sacrificed the hus- least talked of. What say you, madam? band's peace, his joy, and best affections, to avarice and infamy.