to starve their owners?-I have ventured | through avarice? No; I have warmer motives, deeply for you. love and revenge.-Ruin the husband, and the wife's virtue may be bid for. Bev. 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. [Going. 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, the rogues will scatter else. Bates. Not till their leader bids them. Stuke. Give them the word, and follow me; 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 Stuke. Good morning, then. Ber. So hasty! Why then, good morning. Stuke. And when we meet again, upbraid must advise with you--This is a day of me. Say it was I that tempted you. Lewson so; and tell him I have wronged you. He has suspicions of me, and will thank you. Bev. No; we have been companions in a rash voyage, and the same storm has wrecked us both. Mine shall be self-upbraidings. Tell 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. Ber. What hoards? Name them, and take them. Stuke. Jewels. Ber. And shall this thriftless hand seize them too? 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. Bev. Think of some other means, then. Stuke. Ay, and your friend a poor one: but I have done. And, for those trinkets of a woman, why, let her keep them to deck out pride with, and show a laughing world that she has finery to starve in. Bev. No; she shall yield him up all my friend demands it. But need we have talked lightly of her? The jewels that she values are truth and innocence.-Those will adorn her for ever; and, for the rest, she wore them for a husband's pride, and to his wants will give them. Alas! you know her not. Where shall we meet? Stuke. No matter; I have changed my mind. Leave me to a prison; 'tis the reward of friendship. Bev. Perish mankind first!-Leave you to a prison! No! fallen as you see me, I'm not that wretch: nor would I change this heart, o'ercharged as 'tis with folly and misfortune, for one most prudent and most happy, if callous to a friend's distress. Stuke. You are too warm. Ber. 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 lost.-Better not hazard them.-I was too pressing. Bev. 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 business. [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! Ber. 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 Bev. 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. Ber. You have suspicions, then? Bev. Ay, would and cannot. Leave it to time, then; 'twill satisfy all doubts. Char. Mine are already satisfied. Ber. 'Tis well. And when the subject is renewed, speak to me like a sister, and I will answer like a brother. Char. To tell me I'm a beggar. Why, tell it now. I, that can bear the ruin of those dearer to me,--the ruin of a sister and her infant, can bear that too. Bev. No more of this-you wring my heart. Char. Would that the misery were all your own! But innocence must suffer. Unthinking rioter! whose home was heaven to him! an angel dwelt there, and a little cherub, that crowned his days with blessings. How has he lost this heaven, to league with devils! Bev. 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. 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 ordain. Yet, that the husband, father, brother, should be its instruments of vengeance ! 'Tis grievous to know that. Bev. If you are my sister, spare the remembrance-it wounds too deeply. To-morrow shall clear all; and when the worst is known, it may be better than your fears. Comfort my wife; and for the pains of absence, I'll make atonement. Char. See where she comes !-Look cheerfully upon her. Affections such as hers are prying, and lend those eyes that read the soul. Bev. Yet what we have we'll pay. I thank you, Sir, and am obliged. I would say more, but that your goodness to the wife upbraids the husband's follies. Had I been wise, she had 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! Bev. I have.-The cause was avarice. Bev. A ruined friend;-ruined by too much kindness. Lew. Ay, worse than ruined; stabbed in his fame, mortally stabbed. Riches can't cure him. Bev. Or if they could, those I have drained him of. Something of this he hinted in the morning. That Lewson had suspicions of him. Why these suspicions? [Angrily. Lew. At school we knew this Stukely. A 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 ripens manhood in him, shall ripen vice too. I'll prove him, and lay him open to you:-till then, be warned. I know him, and therefore shun him. Bev. As I would those that wrong him. are too busy, Sir. You Mrs B. No, not too busy. Mistaken, perhaps.-That had been milder. Pity Lew. No matter, madam. I can bear this, and praise the heart that prompts it. such friendship should be so placed! You Bev. Again, Sir! but I'll bear too. Ber. And Stukely one, so you would infer, I think. I'll hear no more of this; my heart aches for him. I have undone him. Lew. The world says otherwise. Bev. The world is false then.-I have business with you, love. [To Mrs. B.] We'll leave them to their rancour. [Going. Char. No; we shall find room within for't. Come this way, Sir. [TO LEWSON. Lew. Another time my friend will thank me; that time is bastening too. [Exit LEw, and CHAR. Ber. They hurt me beyond bearing.-1s Stukely false? Then honesty has left us. "Twere sinning against Heaven to think so. Mrs B. I never doubted him. Bev. No; you are charity. Meekness and ever-during patience live in that heart, and love that knows no change. Why did I ruin you? Mrs. B. You have not ruined me. I have no wants when you are present, nor wishes in your absence, but to be bless'd with your return. But be resigned to what has happened, and I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Bev. My generous girl!-But memory will be busy; still crowding on my thoughts, to sour the present by the past, I have another pang, too. Mrs. B. Tell it, and let me cure it. too. Bev. That friend, that generous friend, whose fame they have traduced-1 have undone him While he had means, he lent me largely; and now a prison must be his portion. Mrs. B. No; I hope otherwise. Bev. To hope must be to act. The charitable wish feeds not the hungry.-Something must be done. Mrs. B. What? Bev. In bitterness of heart he told me, just now he told me, I had undone him. Could I hear that, and think of happiness! No; I have disclaimed it, while he is miserable. Mrs. B. The world may mend with us, and then we may be grateful. There's comfort in that hope. Ber. Ay, 'tis the sick man's cordial, his promised cure; while, in preparing it, the patient dies.-What now? Enter LUCY. Lucy. A letter, Sir. [Delivering it, and exit. [Opens it, and reads it to himself. Bev. Why this-too much for patience. Yet he directs me to conceal it from you. [Reads.] Let your huste to see me be the only proof of your I have determined, since we esteem for me. parted, to bid adieu to England: choosing rather to forsake my country, than owe my freedom in it to the means we talked of. Keep this a secret at home, and hasten to the ruined. R. STUKELY. Ruined by friendship! 1 must relieve or fol low him. Mrs. B. Follow him, did you say? Then I am lost indeed! Bev. O this infernal vice! how has it sunk me! a vice, whose highest joy was poor to my domestic happiness. Yet how have I pursued it! turned all my comforts to bitterest pangs, and all my smiles to tears! Damned, damned infatuation! Mrs. B. Be cool, my life! What are the means the letter talks of? Have you-have 1, those means? Tell me, and ease me. no life while you are wretched. I have Bev. How little do I seem before such virtues ! Mrs. B. No more, my love. I kept them till occasion called to use them; now is the occasion, and I'll resign them cheerfully. Bev. Why, we'll be rich in love then. this excess of kindness melts me. Yet, for a But friend, one would do much. He has denied me nothing. Mrs. B. Come to my closet. But let him manage wisely. We have no more to give him. Bev. Where learned my love this excellence?-Tis Heaven's own teaching: that Heaven, which to an angel's form has given a mind more lovely. Stuke. This fellow sins by halves; his fears use. Rogues that dread shame, will still be are conscience to him. I'll turn these fears to greater rogues to hide the guilt. Lewson grows troublesome.-We must get rid of him.-He part of it is truth toc-He shall call Lewson knows too much. I have a tale for Beverley; to account-If it succeeds, 'tis well; if not, I must dissemble. we must try other means-But here he comes. Enter BEVERLEY. Look to the door there, [In a seeming fright.] My friend! I thought of other visitors. Bev. No; these shall guard you from them am unworthy of you,Offering notes.] Take them, and use them cautiously-The world deals hardly by us. but will deserve you better. Henceforth my follies and neglects shall cease, And all to come be penitence and peace; Nor pleasure reach me, but in these dear arms. ACT III. SCENE 1.-STUKELY's Lodgings. Stuke. So runs the world, Bates. Fools are the natural prey of knaves; nature designed them so, when she made lambs for wolves. The laws, that fear and policy have framed, nature disclaims; she knows but two; and those are force, and cunning. The nobler law is force, but then there's danger in't; while cunning like a skilful miner, works safely and Stuke. And shall I leave you destitute? No: is there need of parting? I may have means more. Bev. Take it, and succeed then. I'll try no strongly-But you are cold. We'll e'en part Stuke. 'Tis surely impulse; it pleads so here then. And for this last reserve, keep it Bates. And therefore wisely. Force must you though, and will seek fortune singly. for better uses; I'll have none on't. I thank have nerves and sinews; cunning wants nei-One thing I had forgotther. The dwarf that has it shall trip the giant's heels up. Ber. What is it? unseen. Stuke. And bind him to the ground. Why, we'll erect a shrine for nature, and be her oracles. Conscience is weakness; fear made it, and fear maintains it. The dread of shame, inward reproaches, and fictitious burnings, swell out the phantom. Nature knows none of this; her laws are freedom. Bates. Sound doctrine, and well delivered! Stuke. We are sincere too, and practise what we teach. Let the grave pedant say as much. But now to business. The jewels are disposed of; and Beverley again worth money. If my design succeeds, this night we finish with him. Go to your lodgings, and be busy. -You understand conveyances, and can make ruin sure. Bates. Better stop here. The sale of this reversion may be talked of: there's danger in it. Stuke. No, 'tis the mark I aim at. thrive and laugh. You are the purchaser, and We'll 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. I am open in my nature, and zealous for the Stuke. Perhaps 'twere best forgotten. But honour of my friend-Lewson speaks freely of you. Bev. Of you I know he does. Stuke. I can forgive him for't; but for my friend, I'm angry. Bev. What says he of me? He talks on't loudly. Bev. He shall be silenced then-How heard you of it? Stuke. From many. He questioned Bates about it. Bev. Or he with me-and soon too. best. Stuke. Speak mildly to him. Cautions are Bev. I'll think on't-But whither go you? Stuke. From poverty and prisons-No mathear from me. ter whither. if fortune changes, you may ing the notes, which he refuses.] Nay, they are Ber. May these be prosperous, then. [Offeryours. I have sworn it, and will have nothing -Take them and use them. Bates. How, if he suspects us? Stuke. Leave it to me. Stuke. Singly I will not. My cares are for when to work upon them. Go to your lodg-family. All separate interest I disclaim. ToI study hearts, and my friend: for his lost fortune and ruined ings; and if we come, be busy over papers. gether we have fallen, together we must rise. Talk of a thoughtless age, of gaming and extravagance; you have a face for't. My heart, my honour, and affections, all will Bates. A feeling too that would avoid it. We push too far; but I have cautioned you. If it ends ill, you'll think of me-adieu. [Exit. have it so. Bev. I am weary of being fooled. These bodings of good fortune shall all be Mrs. B. I know it, and am cheerful. We have no more to lose; and for what's gone, if it brings prudence home, the purchase was well made. Char. My Lewson will be kind too. While he and I have life and means, you shall divide with us-And see, he's here! stifled; call them folly, and forget them. This .one embrace, and then farewell. [Offering to embrace. 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 wifeStuke. Ay, ay, she'll chide. Bev. No; my chidings are all here. [Pointing to his heart. Stuke. I'll not persuade you. Bev. I am persuaded; by reason too; the strongest reason, necessity. Oh! could I but regain the height I have fallen from, Heaven should forsake me in my latest hour, if I again mixed in these scenes, or sacrificed the husband's peace, his joys, 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? Bev. Come on, then-Where shall we meet? Stuke. At Wilson's-Yet, if it hurts you, leave me; I have misled you often. Ber. We have misled each other-But come! fortune is fickle, and may be tired with plaguing us There let us rest our hopes. Stuke. Yet think a little Bev. I cannot-thinking but distracts me. When desperation leads, all thoughts are vain. Reason would lose what rashness may obtain. [Exeunt. Char. You think me changed then? SCENE II.-BEVERLEY'S Lodgings. [Angrily. Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE. Lew. I did not say so. Time, and a near Char. 'Twas all a scheme; a mean one; un-acquaintance with my faults, may have worthy of my brother. brought change. If it be so, or for a moment if you have wished this promise were unmade, here I acquit you of it. This is my question, then; and with such plainness as I ask it, shall entreat an answer.-Have you repented of your promise? 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 irrecoverably-You are too spiritless a wife-A mournful tale, mixed with a few kind words, will steal away your soul. The world's too subtle for such goodness. Had I been by, he should have asked your life sooner than those jewels. Mrs. B. He should have had it then, [Warmly.] I live but to oblige him. She who can love, and is beloved, like me, will do as much. Men have done more for mistresses, and women for a base deluder; and shall a wife do less? Your chidings hurt me, Charlotte. 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. 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!have no patience Sister! sister! we are bound to curse this friend. -I Mrs. B. My Beverley speaks nobly of him. Char. And Lewson truly-But I displease you with this talk-To-morrow will instruct Char. Why am I doubted? Lew. My doubts are of myself. I have my faults, and you have observation. If, from my temper, my words, or actions, you have conceived a thought against me, or even a wish for separation, all that has passed is nothing. Char. Why, now I'll answer you. doubts are prophecies. I am really changed. Lew. Indeed! Your Char. I could torment you now, as you have me, but it is not in my nature. That I am changed, I own, for what at first was inclination is now grown reason in me; and from that reason, had I the world; nay, were I poorer than the poorest, and you too wanting bread, with but a hovel to invite me to-I would be yours, and happy. Lew. My kindest Charlotte! [Taking her hand.] thanks are too poor for this-and words too weak! but, if we love so, why should our union be delayed? Char. For happier times. The present are too wretched. Lew. I may have reasons that press it now. Lew. The strongest reasons; unanswerable Char. Now, Sir, your secret. Char. My fortune lost! I'll study to be humble, then. But was my promise claimed for this? how nobly generous! where learnt you this sad news? changed, I blushed at my own thoughts.-But you have proofs, perhaps? night after night, and no reverse. Chance has Bev. Ay, damned ones. Repeated lossesno hand in this. Lew. From Bates, Stukely's prime agent. I have obliged him, and he's grateful. He told it me in friendship, to warn me from my Char-it of the rest. lotte. Char. "Twas honest in him, and I'll esteem him for it. Lew. He knows much more than he has told. Char. For me it is enough. And for your generous love, I thank you from my soul. If you'd oblige me more, give me a little time. · Lew. Why time? it robs us of our happiness. Char. I have a task to learn first. The little pride this fortune gave me must be subdued. Once we were equal; and might have met, obliging and obliged. But now 'tis otherwise; and for a life of obligations, I have not learned to bear it. Lew. Mine is that life. You are too noble. Char. All that I can, I will. [Angrily. Stuke. Where we may vent our curses. Bev. Ay, on yourself, and those damned counsels that have destroyed me. A thousand fiends were in that bosom, and all let loose to tempt me--I had resisted else. Stuke. Go on, Sir.-I have deserved this from you. Ber. And curses everlasting-Time is too scanty for them Stuke. What have I done? Bev. What the arch-devil of old did-soothed with false hopes, for certain ruin, Stuke. Myself unhurt; nay, pleased at your destruction. So your words mean. Why, tell it to the world. I am too poor to find a friend in't. Bev. A friend? what's he! I had a friend. Bev. Ay; I'll tell you of this friend. He found me happiest of the happy. Fortune and honour crowned me, and love and peace lived in my heart. One spark of folly lurked there; that too he found; and by deceitful breath blew it to flames that have consumed me. This friend were you to me. Stuke. A little more, perhaps-The friend, who gave his all to save you; and, not succeeding, chose ruin with you. But no matter; I have undone you, and am a villain. Bev. No; I think not-The villains are within. Stuke. What villains? Ber. Dawson and the rest. dupes to sharpers. We have been Stuke. How know you this? I have had doubts as well as you; yet still, as fortune peevish in my nature, and apt to doubt. The Stuke. I think more charitably; yet I am world speaks fairly of this Dawson; so does We have watched 'em closely think the winners knaves. We'll have more too. But 'tis a right usurped by losers, to manhood in us. has stung me to the quick-blasted my reputa- fatal. Traitor! 'tis you have brought it on me. [Tak- Stuke. Why, do it then, and rid me of ingratitude. speak I know not what. Rage and despair Bev. Pr'ythee, forgive this language; I are in my heart, and hurry me to madness. My home is horror to me. I'll not return to't. fortune, one hope remains? name it, and be Speak quickly; tell me if, in this wreck of my oracle. Stuke. To vent your curses on. You have sel; and, should a desperate hope present itbestowed 'em liberally. Take your own counself, 'twill suit your desperate fortune. I'll not advise you. Bev. What hope? by Heaven! I'll catch at it, however desperate. I am sunk in misery, it cannot lay me lower. Stuke. You have an uncle. Stuke. Old men live long by temperance, yours, and will bring money to pay debts Stuke. That the reversion of his estate is with. Nay, more, it may retrieve what's past. Bev. Or leave my child a beggar. able one; engaged for sums he cannot pay. Stuke. And what's his father? a dishonourThat should be thought of. Ber. It is my shame-the poison that inflames me. Where shall we go? To whom? I am impatient till all's lost. is Bates-He has large funds at his command, Stuke. All may be yours again-Your man and will deal justly by you. meet 'em presently, and with full purses too. Bev. I am resolved. Tell 'em within, we'll Come, follow me. Stuke. No; I'll have no hand in this, nor do from that. You'll find me at my lodgings. I counsel it. Use your discretion, and act Bev. Succeed what will, this night I'll dare the worst; 'Tis loss of fear to be completely curs'd. Stuke. Why, lose it then for ever-Fear is [Exit BEVERLEY. the mind's worst evil, and 'tis a friendly office to drive it from the bosom. Thus far has forin his wife's best treasure, her honour and tune crowned me. Yet Beverley is rich; rich affections. I would supplant him there too. |