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. waits for me at Wilson's.-I told the women where to find him. Bates. To what purpose? He loved her so, that every hour of absence seemed as a gap in life! but other bonds have held me-Oh, I have played the boy! dropping my counters in the stream, and reaching to re deem them, lost myself! 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 Jar. For pity's sake, sir!—I have no heart to see this change. Beo. 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. Beo. Ay, and pities me- Says it not so? Let drudging fools by honesty grow great; But I was born to infamy. I'll tell thee what The shorter road to riches is deceit. it says; it calls me villain, a treacherous hus[Exeunt. band, 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." ACT II. SCENE I. A Gaming-house, with a Table, BEVERLEY discovered sitting. Jar. And why not now? Rude people press upon her; loud, bawling creditors; wretches Bev. Why, what a world is this! The slave who know no pity-I met one at the door that 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 hangs 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. Beo. 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. I 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 M Jarvis, well met. That viper, Williams! wa it not he that troubled you this morning? Jar. My mistress heard him then; I ar sorry that she heard him. Bev, And Jarvis promised payment. Stuke. That must not be. Tell him I'll s tisfy him. Jar. Will you, sir? Heaven will reward yo for it. Bec. Generous Stukely! Friendship yours, had it ability like will, would more the balance the wrongs of fortune. Stuke. You think too kindly of me—Ma haste to Williams; his clamours may be ru else. [To Jars Jar. And my master will go home again Alas! sir, we know of hearts there break for his absence. [E. Fort Beo. 'Would I were dead! Stuke. Ha! ha! ha! Pr'ythee, be a man, leave dying to disease and old age. may be ours again; at least we'll try_fort. Beo. No; it bas fooled us on too far. Beo. Not leave me! Recall past time then; Stuke. Ay, ruined us; and therefore w or, through this sea of storms and darkness, sit down contented. These are the despo show me a star to guide me.-But what canst ings of men without money; but let the s thou? ing ore chink in the pocket, and folly t Jar. The little that I can I will. You have to wisdom. We are fortune's children—T been generous to me-I would not offend you, she's a fickle mother; but shall we droop sir-butcause she's peevish? No: she has smile store, and these her frowns are meant to bright-| Stuke. No matter; I have changed my mind -Leave me to a prison; 'tis the reward of en them. 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 callous to a friend's distress. Bev. What new misfortune? Stuke. I would have brought you money, but lenders want securities. What's to be done? All that was mine is yours already.' Bec. And there's the double weight that sinks me. I have undone my friend too; one 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 lodgings. 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. Bev. 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. 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 has buy food and clothing for him. Stake. Good morning then. 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[Going. Hasten, and tell them.-Hasten, I say, the roBev. So hasty! why, then good morning.gues will scatter else. Lewson Stuke. And when we meet again upbraid Bates. Not till their leader bids thein. me-Say it was I that tempted you-Tell Stuke. Give them the word, and follow me; and tell him I have wronged you I must advise with you-This is a day of buHe 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. a Stuke. And will they feed us? You deal unkindly by me. I have sold and borrowed for you while land or credit lasted; and now, when fortune should be tried, and my heart whispers me success, I am deserted-turned loose to beggary, while you have hoards. Bee. What hoards? Name them, and take them! Stuke. Jewels. Bec. And shall this thriftless hand seize them 160? My poor, poor wife! Must she lose all? I would not wound her so. Stuke. Nor I, but from necessity. One effort more, and fortune may grow kind.—I have unusual hopes. Bes. Think of some other means then. 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. [Exeunt. SCENE II-BEVERLEY'S Lodgings. Enter BEVERLEY and Charlotte. Char. Your looks are changed too;-there's wildness in them. My wretched sister! How will it grieve her to see you thus! Bev. No, no; a little rest will ease me. And for your Lewson's kindness to her it has my thanks; I have no more to give him. 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? Bev. Ay; would and cannot-Leave it to time then; 'twill satisfy all doubts. Bee. No; she shall yield up all-My friend demands it. But need we have talked lightly Char. Mine are already satisfied. 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.-VVhere 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 tooinfant, can bear that too. I'll prove him, and lay him open to youBeo. No more of this-you wring my heart. Till then be warned-I know him, and thereChar. 'Would that the misery were all your fore shun him. own! But innocence must suffer-Unthinking rioter!-whose home was heaven to him! an 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. more. Char. Or, if 'tis gone, why farewell all. I claimed it for a sister.-But I'll upbraid no What heaven permits, perhaps it may ordain. Yet, that the husband, father, brother, should be its instruments of vengeance!-'Tis grievous to know that! Bev. As I would those that wrong him.You are too busy, sir. 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! Beo. Again, sir! But I'll bear too-You Beo. And Stukely one-so you would infer 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. Lew. Another time my friend will than Char. See where she comes!-Look cheer-me; that time is hastening too. fully upon her Affections such as hers are prying, and lend those eyes that read the soul. atonement. Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and LEWSON. Mrs. B. My life! Beo. My love! how fares it? I have been a truant husband. [To Lewson [Exeunt Lewson and Charlotte Bee. They hurt me beyond bearing-1 Stukely false! Then honesty has left us! 'Twer sinning against heaven to think so. Mrs. B. I never doubted him. Beo. No; you are charity. Meekness an ever-during patience live in that heart, an Mrs. B. But we meet now, and that heals love that knows no change.-Why did Í rui 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. I hav friend here, [Pointing to Lewson] has been no wants when you are present, nor wish 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 happene too little value. and I am rich beyond the dreams of avaric Beo. Yet what we have we'll pay. I thank Beo. My generous girl!-But memory wi you, sir, and am obliged. I would say more, but be busy; still crowding on my thoughts, t 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. Lew. Nor has she trespassed. The little I 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. Mrs. B. Tell it, and let me cure it. Bev. That friend that generous frien whose fame they have traduced-I have ur done him too. While he had means he le me largely; and now a prison must be b portion. Mrs. B. No; I hope otherwise. Beo. To hope must be to act. The char table wish feeds not the hungry-Somethin must be done. I Mrs. B. What? Bev. In bitterness of heart he told me, ju now he told me, I had undone him. Cou 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 Beo. Or if they could, those I have drained then we may be grateful. There's comfort i him of. Something of this he hinted in the that hope. morning--that Lewson had suspicions of him Beo. Ay, 'tis the sick man's cordial, his pro -Why these suspicions? [Angrily.mised cure; while, in preparing it, the paties 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? Enter Lucy. Lucy. A letter, sir. [Delivers it, and ext [Opens it, and reads it to himsel Mrs. B. And brings good news-at leas 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. and hasten to the ruined. Ruined by friendship!-I must relieve or follow him. R. STUKELY. Bates. Sound doctrine, and well delivered! Stuke. We are sincere too, and practise 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, Bates. Better stop here. The sale of this damned infatuation! 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 those means? Tell me, and ease me. I have 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? Stuke. No, 'tis the mark I aim at. We'll thrive and laugh. You are the purchaser, and 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 Bes. I came to rob you of them-but can- when to work upon them. Go to your lodgnot-dare not-Those jewels are your sole ings; and if we come, be busy over papers. support-I should be more than monster to Talk of a thoughtless age, of gaming and exrequest them. travagance; you have a face for't. wealth is of less value. 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 Bee. 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 till 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. Enter BEVERLEY. 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- Beo. No; these shall guard you from them. serve you better. [Offering Notes] Take them, and use them Henceforth my follies and neglects shall cease, cautiously-The world deals hardly by us. 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. 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. : Habit Bec. 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. 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 ature 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 ing, like a skilful miner, works safely and impulse of good fortune, I yet am ignorant; but seen. Bev. Take it, and succeed then. I'll try no Bates. And therefore wisely. Force must Stuke. Perhaps 'twere best forgotten. But I am open in my nature, and zealous for the honour of my friend-Lewson speaks freely of you. Bev. Of you I know he does. Reason would lose what rashness may ob- SCENE II.-BEVERLEY'S Lodgings. Mrs. B. No, I am sure it was not-Stukely is honest too, I know he is.-This madness has undone them both. Char. My brother irrecoverable-You are too spiritless a wife-A mournful tale, mixed Stuke. I can forgive him for't; but, for my with a few kind words, will steal away your friend, I'm angry. soul. The world's too subtle for such goodness. Had I been by, he should have asked Beo. What says he of me? | Stuke. That Charlotte's fortune is embezzled your life sooner than those jewels. -He talks on't loudly. Mrs. B. He should have had it then. Bev. 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 saved you else. How could he use you so? Mrs. B. "Twas friendship did it. His heart was breaking for a friend. are best. Bee. I'll think on't-But whither go you? hear from me. Beo. May these be prosperous then, [Offering the Notes, which he refuses] Nay, they are yours-I have sworn it, and will have nothing-Take them, and use them. Stuke. Singly I will not-My cares are for my friend; for his lost fortune and ruined family. All separate interests I disclaim. Together we have fallen; together we must rise. My heart, my honour, and affections, all will have it so. Beo. I am weary of being fooled. Stuke. And so am I-Here let us part then -These bodings of good fortune shall all be stifled; call them folly, and forgot them farewell. Bev. No; stay a moment-How my poor heart's distracted! I have the bodings too; but whether caught from you, or prompted by my good or evil genius, I know not - The trial shall determine-And yet, my wife Char. The friend that has betrayed him. Mrs. B. Pr'ythee don't think so. Char. To-morrow he accounts with me. Mrs. B. And fairly-I will not doubt it Char. Unless a friend has wanted-I have no patience-Sister! sister! we are bound to curse this friend. Mrs. B. My Beverley speaks nobly of him. Char. And Lewson truly-But I displease you with this talk.-To-morrow will instruct us. Mrs. B. Stay till it comes then-1 would not think so hardly. Char. Nor I, but from conviction-Yet w have hope of better days. My uncle is infirm and of an age that threatens hourly—Or if l lives, you never have offended him: and fo distresses so unmerited he will have pity. Mrs. B. I know it, and am cheerful. W have no more to lose; and for what is gon if it brings prudence home, the purchase well made. Char. My Lewson will be kind too. W] he and I have life and means you shall divi with us-And see, he's here. Enter LEWSON. Stuke. Ay, ay, she'll chide. Beo. No; my chidings are all here. [Pointing to his Heart. Stuke. I'll not persuade you. Bee. I am persuaded; by reason too; the VVe were just speaking of you. strongest reason, necessity. Oh, could I but Lew. 'Tis best to interrupt you then. F regain the height I have. fallen from, heaven characters will bear a scrutiny; and wh should forsake me in my latest hour, if I again the bad outweighs the good, he's safest th 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. Stuke. I have resolved like you; and, since our motives are so honest, why should we fear success? [To Charlo Char. That I hate scandal, though a won therefore talk seldom of you. Mrs. B. Or, with more truth, that thot a woman, she loves to praise-therefore Beo. Come on then - VWhere shall we meet? | always of you. I'll leave you to decide it Stuke. At Wilson's - Yet if it hurts you, leave me: I have misled you often. Lew. How good and amiable! I came to Beo. We have misled each other-But come ! in private with you, of matters that concern ! Fortune is fickle, and may be tir'd with plagu ing us-There let us rest our hopes. Stuke. Yet think a little. Char. What matters? Lew. First, answer me sincerely to what l thar. Propose your question. Lew. 'Tis now a tedious twelvemonth si with an open and kind heart, you said loved me. And when, in consequence of |