Stuke. Thus fools talk ever; spending their idle breath on what is past, and trembling at the future, We must be active; Beverley, at worst, is but suspicious; but Lewson's genius, and his hate to me, will lay all open. Means must be found to stop him. Bates. What means?

Stuke. Dispatch him-Nay, start not-Desperate occasions call for desperate deeds-We live but by his death.

Bates. You cannot mean it?
Stuke. I do, by Heaven!

Bates. Good-night, then.

[Going.

Stuke. Stay-I must be heard, then answered.Perhaps the motion was too sudden; and human weakness starts at murder, though strong necessity compels it. I have thought long of this, and my first feelings were like yours; a foolish conscience awed me, which soon I conquered. The man that would undo me, nature cries out, undo. Brutes know their foes by instinct; and, where superior force is given, they use it for destruction. Shall man do less? Lew son pursues us to our ruin! and shall we, with the means to crush him, fly from our hunter, or turn, and tear him? 'Tis folly even to hesitate.

Bates. He has obliged me, and I dare not.

Stuke. Why, live to shame, then-to beggary and punishment. You would be privy to the deed, yet want the soul to act it.-Nay, more, had my designs been levelled at his fortune, you had stepped in the foremost-And what is life without its comforts?Those you would rob him of, and, by a lingering death, add cruelty to murder. Henceforth, adieu to half-made villains-There's danger in them. What you have got is yours-keep it, and hide with it--I'll deal my future bounty to those that merit it. Bates. What's the reward?

Stuke, Equal division of our gains. I swear it, and will be just.

Bates. Think of the means then.

Stuke. He's gone to Beverley's-Wait for him in the street-'Tis a dark night, and fit for mischief A dagger would be useful.

Bates. No more.

Stuke. Consider the reward. When the deed's done, I have other business with you. Send Dawson

Bates. Think it already done-and so, farewell.

[Exit.

Stuke. Why, farewell, Lewson, then; and farewell This night secures me-I'll wait the

to my fears.

event within.

(Exit.

SCENE II.

The Street Stage darkened.

Enter BEVERLEY.

Bev. How like an outcast do I wander! Loaded with every curse that drives the soul to desperation! The midnight robber, as he walks his rounds, sees, by the glimmering lamp, my frantic looks, and dreads to meet me. Whither am I going? My home lies there; all that is dear on earth it holds too; yet are the gates of death more welcome to me-I'll enter it no more- -Who passes there? 'Tis Lewson-He meets me in a gloomy hour; and, memory tells me, he has been meddling with my fame.

Enter LEWSON.

Lew. Beverley! well met. I have been busy in your affairs,

Bev. So I have heard, sir: and now I must thank you as I ought.

Lew. To-morrow I may deserve your thanks. Late as it is, I go to Bates.-Discoveries are making that an arch villain trembles at.

Bev. Discoveries are made, sir, that you shall tremble at. Where is this boasted spirit, this high demeanour, that was to call me to account? You say I have wronged my sister- -Now say as much. But, first be ready for defence as I am for resentment.

[Draws. Lew. What mean you? I understand you not. Bev. The coward's stale acquaintance! who, when he spreads foul calumny abroad, and dreads just vengeance on him, cries out, "What mean you? I understand you not.”

Lew. Coward and calumny! Whence are those words? But I forgive and pity you.

Bev. Your pity had been kinder to my fame: But you have traduced it-told a vile story to the public ear, that I have wronged my sister.

Lew. 'Tis false! Show me the man that dares ac

cuse me.

Bev. I thought you brave, and of a soul superior to low malice; but I have found you, and will have vengeance. This is no place for argument.

Lew. Nor shall it be for violence.-Imprudent man! who, in revenge for fancied injuries, would pierce the heart that loves him! But honest friendship acts from itself, unmoved by slander.-You know me not.

Bev. Yes, for the slanderer of my fame-buzzing in every ear foul breach of trust, and family dishonour. Lew. Have I done this? Who told you so?

Bev. The world 'Tis talked of every where.It pleased you to add threats too-You were to call me to account-Why, do it now, then: I should be proud of such an arbiter.

Lew. Put up your sword, and know me better. I

never injured you. The base suggestion comes from Stukely: I see him and his aims.

Bev. What aims? I'll not conceal it 'twas Stukely that accused you.

Lew. To rid him of an enemy-Perhaps of two He fears discovery, and frames a tale of falsehood, to ground revenge and murder on.

Bev. I must have proof of this.

Lew. Wait till to-morrow then.
Bev. I will.

Lew. Good night-I go to serve youForget what's past, as I do; and cheer your family with smiles-To-morrow may confirm them, and make all happy.

[Exits

Bev. [Pausing.] How vile and how absurd is man! His boasted honour is but another name for pride, which easier bears the consciousness of guilt, than the world's just reproofs! But 'tis the fashion of the times; and in defence of falsehood and false honour, men die martyrs. I knew not that my nature was so bad. [Stands musing.

Enter BATES and JARVIS.

Jar. This way the noise was; and yonder's my poor master.

Bates. I heard him at high words with Lewson. Jar. I heard him too. Misfortunes vex him. -Bates. Go to him, and lead him home.-I'll not be seen by him.

[Exit Bev. [Starting.] What fellow's that? [Seeing JARVIS.] Art thou a murderer, friend? Come, lead the way-I have a hand as mischievous as thine; a heart as desperate too- Jarvis! to bed, old man-the

cold will chill thee.

Jar. Why are you wandering at this late hour? Your sword drawn too? For Heaven's sake sheathe it, sir-the sight distracts me.

Bev. Whose voice was that?

[Wildly.

Jar. 'Twas mine, sir: Let me entreat you to give the sword to me.

Bev. Ay, take it-quickly take it-Perhaps I am not so cursed, but Heaven may have sent thee at this moment to snatch me from perdition.

Jar. Then I am blessed.

Bev. Continue so, and leave me-my sorrows are contagious. No one is blessed that's near me. Jar. I came to seek you, sir.

Bev. And now thou hast found me, leave me→ My thoughts are wild, and will not be disturbed. Jar. Such thoughts are best disturbed.

Bev. I tell thee that they will not! who sent thee hither?

Jar. My weeping mistress! Alas, sir, forget your griefs, and let me lead you to her! The streets are dangerous.

Bev. Be wise, and leave me then. The night's black horrors are suited to my thoughts-These stones shall be my resting-place. [Lies down.] Here shall my soul brood o'er its miseries; till, with the fiends of hell, and guilty of the earth, I start and tremble at the morning's light.

Jar. For pity's sake, sir!-Upon my knees I beg you to quit this place, and these sad thoughts. Let patience, not despair, possess you-Rise, I beseech you-There's not a moment of your absence that my poor mistress does not groan for.

Bev. Have I undone her, and is she still so kind? [Starting up.] It is too much-My brain can't hold it. Oh, Jarvis, how desperate is that wretch's state, which only death or madness can relieve!

Jar. Appease his mind, good Heaven, and give him resignation! Alas, sir! could beings in the other world perceive the events of this, how would your parents' blessed spirits grieve for you, even in Heaven! -Let me conjure you, by their honoured memories