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Bates. Dressed like a nobleman; with money in . pocket, and a set of dice that shall deceive the evil. Stuke. That fellow has a head to undo a nation; but for the rest, they are such low-mannered, illos dogs, I wonder Beverley has not suspected em. Bates. No matter for manners and looks. Do you supply them with money, and they are gentlemen by profession The passion of gaming casts such a mist before the eyes, that the nobleman shall be surrounded with sharpers, and imagine himself in the best company. Stuke. There’s that Williams too. It was he, I suppose, that called at Beverley's with the note this morning. What directions did you give him 2 Bates. To knock loud and be clamorous. Did not you see him 2 Stuke. No, the fool sneaked off with Jarvis. Had he appeared within doors, as directed, the note had been discharged. I waited there on purpose. I want the women to think well of me; for Lewson's grown suspicious; he told me so himself. Bates. What answer did you make him Stuke. A short one That I would see him soon for further explanation. Bates. We must take care of him. But what have we to do with Beverley Dawson and the rest are wondering at you. Stuke. Why, let them wonder. I have designs above their narrow reach. They see me lend him money, and they stare at me. But they are fools. I want him to believe me beggared by him. Bates. And what then 2 Stuke. Ay, there's the question; but no matter; at night you may know more. He waits for me at Wilson’s.-I told the women where to find him. Bates. To what purpose 2
Stuke. To save suspicion. It looked friendly, and they thanked me.—Old Jarvis was dispatched to him.
Bates. And may entreat him home—
Stuke. No; he expects money from me; but I’ll have none. His wife's jewels must go—Women are easy creatures, and refuse nothing where they love. Follow to Wilson's, but be sure he sees you not. You are a man of character, you know; of prudence and discretion. Wait for me in an outer room ; I shall have business for you presently.—Come, sir.
Let drudging fools by honesty grow great;
ACT THE SEcoSD.
BeverLEY discovered sitting.
Bev. Why, what a world is this The slave that digs for gold receives his daily pittance, and sleeps contented; while those for whom he labours convert their good to mischief, making abundance the means of want. O shame ! shame! Had Fortune given me but little, that little had still been my own." But plenty leads to waste; and shallow streams maintain their currents, while swelling rivers beat down their banks, and leave their channels empty. What had I to do with play ? I wanted nothing—My wishes and my means were equal—The poor followed me with blessings, love scattered roses on my pillow, and morn
ing waked me to delight—Oh, bitter thought, that leads to what I was, by what I am | I would forget both—Who's there 2
Enter a WAITER.
Wait. A gentleman, sir, enquires for you.
Bev. He might have used less ceremony. Stukely, I suppose:
Wait. No, sir, a stranger.
Bev. 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.
Jarvis!—Why this intrusion ?—Your absence had been kinder. * Jar. I came in duty, sir. If it be troublesome— 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. Bev. Go with thy duty there then—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. , , Bev. Not leave me! Recall past time, then ; or, through this sea of storms and darkness, show me a star to guide me.—But what canst thou? Jar. The little that I can I will. You have been generous to me—I would not offend you, sir—but— Bev, No. Think'st thou I'd ruin thee too ! I have enough of shame already My wife my wife : Wouldst thou believe it, Jarvis: I have not seen her all this long night—I, who have 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 redeem them, lost myself! Jar. For pity's sake, sir!—I have no heart to see this change. Bev. Nor I to bear it—How speaks the world of me, Jarvis: Jar. As of a good man dead—Of one who, walking in a dream, fell down a precipice. The world is sorry for you. Bev, 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 who know no pity—I met one at the door—he would have seen my mistress: I wanted means of present payment, so promised it to-morrow : But others may be pressing, and she has grief enough already.—Your absence hangs too heavy on her. Bev. Tell her I'll come then. But what hast thou to do with my distresses Thy honesty has left thee poor. Keep what thou hast; lest, between thee and the grave, misery steal in. I have a friend shall counsel me--This is that friend.
Stuke. How fares it, Beverley 2 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.
Bev. And Jarvis promised payment. hi Stuke. That must not be. Tell him I'll satisfy IIIle Jar. Will you, sir? Heaven will reward you for it. Bev. Generous Stukely . Friendship like yours, had it ability like will, would more than balance the wrongs of fortune. Stuke. You think too kindly of me—Make haste to Williams; his clamours may be rude else. [To JARvis. Jar. And my master will go home again—Alas ! sir, we know of hearts there breaking for his absence.
[Exit. Bev. 'Would I were dead! Stuke. Pr’ythee, be a man, and leave dying to disease and old age. Fortune may be ours again; at least we’ll try for’t. Bev. No; it has fooled us on too far. Stuke. Ay, ruined us; and therefore we'll sit down contented. These are the despondings of men without money; but let the shining ore chink in the pocket, and folly turns to wisdom. We are Fortune's children—True, she's a fickle mother; but shall we droop because she's peevish —No; she has smiles in store, and these her frowns are meant to brighten them. Bev. Is this a time for levity?—But you are single in the ruin, and, therefore, may talk lightly of it 3. with me 'tis complicated misery. Stuke. You censure me unjustly; I but assumed these spirits to cheer my friend. Heaven knows, he wants a comforter. Bev. What new misfortune 2 Stuke. I would have brought you money, but lenders want securities. What's to be done All that was mine is yours already. Bev, And there's the double weight that sinks me. I have undone my friend too; one who, to save a