man! who, in revenge for fancied injuries, would pierce the heart that loves him. But honest friendship acts from itself, unmoved by slander or ingratitude. The life you thirst for, shall be employed to serve you. You know me not.

Bev. Yes-for the slanderer of my fame? who, under shew of friendship, arraigns me of injustice, 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 everywhere: it pleased you to add threats, too. You were to call me to account: why, do it now, then; I shall 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.

Bcv. I must have proof of this.
Lew. Wait till to-morrow, then.
Bev. I will.

Lew. Good night: I go to serve you. Forget what is past, as I do; and cheer your family with smiles. Oh, that to-morrow may confirm them, and make all happy! [Exit. 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 JARVIS and BATES. Jar. This way the noise was; and yonder is my poor master.

Bates. I heard him at high words with Lew

son.

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. What fellow's that? 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?

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. Forget your griefs, and let me lead you to her: the streets are dan gerous.

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 flends 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 cannot hold! O, Jarvis! how desperate is that wretch's state, whom only death or madness can relieve!

Jar. Appease his mind, good heaven, and give him resignation! Alas, sir! if beings in the other world perceive the events of this, how will your parents blessed spirits grieve for you, even in heaven! Let me conjure you, by their honoured memories; by the sweet innocence of your yet helpless child, and by the ceaseless sorrows of my poor mistress, to rouse your manhood, and struggle with these griefs!

Bev. Thou virtuous, good old man! thy tears and thy entreaties have reached my heart, through all its miseries.

Jar. Be but resigned, sir, and happiness may yet be yours. Hark! I hear voices! Come: this way we may reach home unnoticed.

Bev. Well; lead me, then. Unnoticed didst thou say? Alas! I dread no looks, but of those wretches I have made at home! O, had I listened to thy honest warnings, no earthly blessing had been wanting to me! I was so happy, that even a wish for more than I possessed, was arrogant presumption: but I have warred against the power that blessed me, and now am sentenced to the hell I merit. [Exeunt

SCENE III-Stukely's Lodgings.

Enter STUKELY; meets DAWSON. Stuk. Come hither, Dawson. My limbs are on the rack, and my soul shivers in me, till this night's business be complete. Tell me thy thoughts, is Bates determined, or does he waver?

Daw. At first, he seemed irresolute; wished the employment had been mine; and muttered curses on his coward hand, that trembled at the deed. Stuk. And did he leave you so?

Daw. No; we walked together; and, sheltered by the darkness, saw Beverley and Lewson in warm debate; but soon they cooled, and then I left them, to hasten hither; but not 'till it was resolved Lewson should die.

That

Stuk. Thy words have given me life. quarrel too, was fortunate; for, if my hopes deceive me not, it promises a grave to Beverley.

Daw. You misconceive me; Lewson and he were friends.

Stuk. But my prolific brain shall make them enemies. If Lewson fall, he falls by Beverley; an upright jury shall decree it; ask me no question, but do as I direct. This writ (takes out a pocket-book) for some days past, I have treasured here, till a convenient time called for its use: that time is come. Take it, and give it to an officer; it must be served this instant.

Daw. On Beverley?

Stuk. Look at it: 'tis for the sums that I have lent him.

Daw. Must he to prison, then?

Stuk. I ask obedience; not replies. This night, a jail must be his lodging. 'Tis probable he's not gone home yet; wait at his door and see it executed, Daw. Upon a beggar? He has no means of pay, ment.

Enter STUKELY, BATES, and DAWSON. Bates. Poor Lewson! but I told you enough last night. The thought of him is dreadful to me. Stuk. In the street, did you say? And no one near him.

Bates. By his own door: he was leading me to his house; I pretended business with him, and stabbed him to the heart, while he was reaching at the bell

Stuk. And did he fall so suddenly? Bates. The reputation pleases you, I see. I told you, he fell without a groan.

Stuk. What heard you of him this morning? Bates. That the watch found him, and alarmed the servants. I mingled with the crowd just now, and saw him dead in his own house: the sight terrified me.

Stuk. Away with terrors, till his ghost rise and accuse us. We have no living enemy to fear, unless 'tis Beverley; and him we have safe lodged in prison.

Bates. Must he be murdered, too?

Stuk. No; I have a scheme to make the law his murderer. At what hour did Lewson fall?

Bates. The clock struck twelve, as I turned to leave him. "Twas a melancholy bell, I thought tolling for his death.

Stuk. The time was lucky for us. Beverley was arrested at one, you say.

Daw. Exactly.

Stuk. Good: We'll talk of this presently. The women were with him, I think?

Daw. And old Jarvis. I would have told you of them last night, but your thoughts were too busy. 'Tis well you have a heart of stone, the tale would melt it else.

I ordered the officers to take away their prisoner. The women shrieked, and would have followed him, but we forbade them. "Twas then they fell upon their knees, with all the eloquence of misery, endeavouring to soften us. I never felt compassion till that moment; and, had the officers been like me, we had left the business undone, and fled with curses on ourselves; but their hearts were steeled by custom, they tore him from their arms, and lodged him in prison, with only Jarvis to comfort him.

Stuk. There let him lie, till we have further business wih him. You saw him quarrelling with Lewson in the street last night?

But

Bates. I did; his steward, Jarvis, saw him too. Stuk. And shall attest it. Here's matter to work upon; an unwilling evidence carries weight with him. Something of my design I have hinted to you before. Beverley must be the author of this murder; and we the parties to convict him. how to proceed, will require time and thought. Come along with me. But no compassion, sir. (To Dawson.) We want leisure for it. This way. [Exeunt. Table and two

SCENE II.-Beverley's Lodgings.

chairs.

MRS. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE discovered
Mrs. B. No news of Lewson yet?
Char. None; he went out early, and knows not
what has happened. (Clock strikes eight.)

Mrs. B. The clock strikes eight; I'll wait no longer. O, what a night was last night! I would not pass another such, to purchase worlds by it. My poor Beverley, too; what must he have felt! the very thought distracts me. To have him torn at midnight from me; a loathsome prison his habitation!-a cold damp room his lodging-the bleak winds, perhaps, blowing upon his pillow!-no fond wife to lull him to his rest!-and no reflections but to wound and tear him!-'Tis too horrible. I wanted love for him, or they had not forced him from me; they should have parted soul and body first. I was too tame.

Cha, You must not talk so. All that we could, we did; and Jarvis did the rest: the faithful crea ture will give him comfort. See where he comes; his looks are cheerful, too.

Enter JARVIS.

Mrs. B. Are tears then cheerful? Alas, he weeps! Speak to him, Charlotte: I have, no tongue to ask him questions.

Char. How does your master, Jarvis?

Jar. I am old and foolish, madam; and tears will come before my words; but don't you weep; (To Mrs. B.) I have a tale of joy for you.

Mrs. B. Say but he's well, and I have joy enough.

Jar. His mind too shall be well; all shall be well: I have news for him that shall make his poor heart bound again. Fie upon old age! how childish it makes me! I have a tale of joy for you, and my tears drown it.

Mrs. B. What is it, Jarvis?

Jar. Yet why should I rejoice, when a good man dies? Your uncle, madam, died yesterday. Mrs. B. My uncle ! O heavens!

Char. How heard you of his death?

Jar. His steward came express, madam: I met him in the street, enquiring for your lodgings. I should not rejoice, perhaps, but he was old, and my poor master a prisoner. Now he shall live again. O, 'tis a brave fortune! and it was death to me, to see him a prisoner.

Char. How did he pass the night, Jarvis? Jar. Why now, madam, I can tell you. Like a man dreaming of death and horrors. When they led him to his cell,-for it was a poor apartment for my master, he flung himself upon a wretched bed, and lay speechless till day-break; then he started from the bed, and, looking wildly at me, asked who I was. I told him, and bade him be of comfort. "Begone, old wretch," says he, "I have sworn, never to know comfort-My wife! my child! my sister! I have undone them all, and will know no comfort" Then falling upon his knees, he imprecated curses upon himself.

Mrs. B. This is too horrible! But we have staid too long. Let us haste to comfort him, or die with him. [Exeunt. SCENE III-A prison. Chair, table, lamp, and

book on it.

BEVERLEY discovered seated. After a short pause, he starts up.

Bev. Why, there's an end, then. I have judged deliberately, and the result is death. How the self-murderer's account may stand, I know not: but this I know, the load of hateful life oppresses me too much. The horrors of my soul are more than I can bear. (Offers to kneel.) Father of Mercy! I cannot pray; despair has laid his iron hand upon me, and sealed me for perdition. Conscience! conscience! thy clamours are too loud: here's that shall silence thee. (Takes a phial of poison out of his pocket.) Thou art most friendly to the miserable. Come, then, thou cordial for sick minds, come to my heart (Drinks it.) Oh, that the grave would bury memory as well as body; for, if the soul sees and feels the sufferings of those dear ones it leaves behind, the Everlasting has no vengeance to torment it deeper. I'll think no more on it;-reflection comes too late; once there was a time for it, but now 'tis past, Who's there?

Enter JARVIS.

Jar. One that hoped to see you with better looks. Why do you turn so from me? I have brought comfort with me; and see who comes to give it welcome.

Bev. My wife and sister! Why, 'tis but one pang more, then, and farewell, world.

Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE.

Mrs. B. Where is he? (Runs and embraces him.) O, I have him! I have him! And now they shall never part us more. I have news, love, to make you happy for ever. Alas! he hears us not. Speak to me, love; I have no heart to see you thus.

Bev. This is a sad place.

Mrs. B. We came to take you from it; to tell you, the world goes well again; that Providence has seen our sorrows, and sent the means to help them; your uncle died yesterday.

Bev. My uncle?, No, do not say so. O! I am sick at heart!

Mrs. B. Indeed, I meant to bring you comfort.

Bev. Tell me he lives, then; if you would bring me comfort, tell me he lives.

Mrs. B. And if I did, I have no power to raise the dead. He died yesterday.

Bev. And I am heir to him?

Jar. To his whole estate, sir. But bear it patiently, pray bear it patiently.

Bev. Well, well. (Pausing.) Why fame says, Ι am rich, then?

Mrs. B. And truly so. Why do you look so wildly?

Bev. Do I? The news was unexpected. But has he left me all?

Jar. All, all, sir; he could not leave it from you. Bev. I am sorry for it.

Mrs. B. Why are you disturbed so?

Bev. Has death no terrors in it? Mrs. B. Not an old man's death; yet, if it trouble you, I wish him living.

Bev. And I, with all my heart; for I have a tale to tell, shall turn you into stone; or if the power of speech remain, you shall kneel down and curse me. Why are we to curse you? I'll

Mrs. B. Alas! bless you ever.

Bev. No, I have deserved no blessings. All this large fortune, this second bounty of heaven, that might have healed our sorrows, and satisfied our

utmost hopes, in a cursed hour I sold last night. Mrs. B. Impossible!

Bev. That devil Stukely, with all hell to aid him, tempted me to the deed. To pay false debts of honour, and to redeem past errors, I sold the reversion, sold it for a scanty sum, and lost it among villains.

Char. Why, farewell all, then.

Bev. Liberty and life. Come, kneel and curse me.

Mrs. B. Then hear me, heaven. (Kneels.) Look down with mercy on his sorrows! Give softness to his looks, and quiet to his heart! On me, on me, if misery must be the lot of either, multiply misfortunes! I'll bear them patiently, so he be happy! These hands shall toil for his support; these eyes be lifted up for hourly blessings on him; and every duty of a fond and faithful wife be doubly done, to cheer and comfort him. So hear me! so reward me! (Rises.)

Bev. I would kneel too, but that offended heaven would turn my prayers into curses; for I have done a deed, to make life horrible to you. Mrs. B. What deed?

misfortune has hurt his brain. A little time will Jar. Ask him no questions, madam; this last give him patience.

Enter STUKELY. Bev. Why is this villain here?

Stuk. To give you liberty and safety. There, madam, is his discharge. (Gives a paper to Charlotte.) The arrest last night was meant in friendship, but came too late.

Char. What mean you, sir?

Stuk. The arrest was too late, I say; I would have kept his hands from blood; but was too late. Mrs. B. His hands from blood! Whose blood? Stuk. From Lewson's blood.

Char. No, villain! Yet what of Lewson? Speak quickly.

the murderer at confession. Stuk. You are ignorant, then; I thought I heard

Char. What murderer? And who is murdered? Not Lewson? Say, he lives, and I will kneel and worship you.

Stuk. And so I would; but that the tongues of all cry murder. I came in pity, not in malice; to

save the brother, not kill the sister. Your Lewson's dead.

Char. O horrible!

Bev. Silence, I charge you. Proceed, sir.

Stuk. No; justice may stop the tale; and here's an evidence.

Enter BATES.

Bates. The news, I see, has reached you. But take comfort, madam. (To Charlotte.) There's

one without, enquiring for you; go to him, and lose no time.

Char. O misery! misery!

[Exit. Mrs. B. Follow hor, Jarvis; if it be true that Lewson's dead, her grief may kill her.

Bates. Jarvis must stay here, madam; I have some questions for him.

Stuk. Rather let him fly; his evidence may crush his master.

Bev. Why, ay, this looks like management. Bates. He found you, quarrelling with Lewson in the street last night. (To Beverley.)

Mrs. B. No; I am sure, he did not.
Jar. Or, if I did,-

Mrs. B. "Tis false, old man; they had no quarrel, there was no cause for quarrel.

Bev. Let him proceed, I say. O! I am sick! sick! Reach a chair.

(Jarvis brings it, he sits down.) Mrs. B. You droop and tremble, love. Yet you are innocent. If Lewson's dead, you killed him

not.

Enter DAWSON.

Bev. (Wildly.) They told me he was murdered! Mrs. B. Ay; but he lives to save us.

Bev. Lend me your hand; the room turns round. Lew. This villain here disturbs him. Remove him from his sight; and, on your lives, see that you guard him. (Stukely is taken off by Dawson and Bates.) How is it, air?

Bev. 'Tis here, and here. (Pointing to his head and heart.) And now it tears me.

Mrs. B. You feel convulsed, too. What is it disturbs you?

Bev. A furnace rages in this heart. (Laying his hand upon his heart.) Down, restless flames! down to your native hell, there you shall rack me! Oh, for a pause from pain. Where is my wife? Can you forgive me, love?

Mrs. B. Alas, for what?
Bev. For meanly dying.
Mr. B. No; do not say it.

Bev. As truly as my soul must answer it. Had Jarvis staid this morning, all had been well; but, pressed by shame, pent in a prison, tormented with my pangs for you, driven to despair and madness, I took the advantage of his absence, corrupted the poor wretch he left to guard me, and swallowed

Stuk. What witness?

Bates. A right one. Look at him.

Enter CHARLOTTE and LEWSON.

(Mrs. B. on perceiving Lewson, goes into an hysteric laugh and sinks on Jarvis.) Stuk. Lewson! O villains! villains! (To Bates and Dawson.)

Mrs. B. Risen from the dead! Why this is unexpected happiness!

Char. Or is it his ghost? (To Stukely.) That sight would please you, sir.

Jar. What riddle is this?

Bev. Be quick, and tell it, my minutes are but few.

Mrs. B. Alas! why so? You shall live long and happily.

Lew. While shame and punishment shall rack that viper. (Points to Stukely.) The tale is short; I was too busy in his secrets, and therefore doomed to die. Bates, to prevent the murder, undertook it; I kept aloof to give it credit.

Char. And give me pangs unutterable.

Lew. I felt them all, and would have told you; but vengeance wanted ripening. The villain's scheme was but half executed; the arrest by Dawson followed the supposed murder, and now depending on his once wicked associates, he comes to fix the guilt on Beverley.

Bates. Dawson and I are witnesses of this. Lew. And of a thousand frauds; his fortune ruined by sharpers and false dice; and Stukely sole contriver and possessor of all.

Daw. Had he but stopped on this side murder, we had been villains still.

Lew. (To Beverley.) How does my friend?
Bev. Why, well. Who's he that asks me?

Mrs B. "Tis Lewson, love. Why do you look so at him?

Lew. O, fatal deed!

Bev. Ay, most accursed. And now I go to my account. Bend me, and let me kneel. (They lift him from his chair, and support him on his knees.) I'll pray for you, too. Thou Power that madest me, hear me. If, for a life of frailty, and this too hasty deed of death, thy justice doom me, here I acquit the sentence; but if, enthroned in mercy where thou sitt'st, thy pity has beheld me, send me a gleam of hope, that in these last and bitter moments my soul may taste of comfort! And for these mourners here, Oh, let their lives be peaceful, and their deaths happy.

Mrs. B. Restore him, heaven. O, save him, save him, or let me die too!

Bev. No; live, I charge you. We have a little one; though I have left him, you will not leave him. To Lewson's kindness I bequeath him. Is not this Charlotte? We have lived in love, though I have wronged you. Can you forgive me, Charlotte?

Char. Forgive you! O, my poor brother!

Bev. Lend me your hand, love. So; raise me→→→ no; it will not be, my life is finished. O, for a few short moments, to tell you how my heart bleeds for you, that even now, thus dying as I am, dubious and fearful of an hereafter, my bosom pang is for your miseries. Support her, heaven! And now I go. O, mercy! mercy! (Dies.)

Lew. How is it, madam? My poor Charlotte, too!

Char. Her grief is speechless.

Lew. Jarvis, remove her from this sight. (Jarvis and Charlotte lead Mrs. Beverley aside.) Some ministering angel bring her peace. And thou, poor breathless corpse, may thy departed soul have found the rest it prayed for. Save but one error, and this last fatal deed, thy life was lovely. Let frailer minds take warning; and, from example, learn that want of prudence is want of virtue.

[Exeunt

Enter the DUKE of GLOSTER, SIR RICHARD

RATCLIFFE, and CATESBY.

Glos Thus far success attends upon our councils, And each event has answer d to my wish; The queen and all her upstart race are quell'd; Dorset is banish'd, and her brother Rivers, Ere this, lies shorter by the head at Pomfret. The nobles have, with joint concurrence, nam'd me Protector of the realm; my brother's children, Young Edward and the little York, are lodg'd Here, safe within the Tower. How say you, sirs, Does not this business wear a lucky face? The sceptre and the golden wreath of royalty Seem hung within my reach.

Sir R. Then take 'em to you,

And wear them long and worthily: you are

LORDS OF THE COUNCIL
JANE SHORE.
ALICIA.

The last remaining male of princely York;
(For Edward's boys, the state esteems not of 'em,)
And therefore on your sov'reignty and rule
The commonweal does her dependence make,
And leans upon your highness' able hand.

Cates. And yet, to-morrow, does the council meet
To fix a day for Edward's coronation.
Who can expound this riddle?

Glos. That can I.

Those lords are each one my approv'd good friends,
Of special trust and nearness to my bosom;
And howsoever busy they may seem,
And diligent to bustle in the state,
Their zeal goes on no further than we lead,
And at our bidding stays.

Cates. Yet there is one,

And he amongst the foremost in his power, Of whom I wish your highness were assur'd For me, perhaps it is my nature's fault,

I own I doubt of his inclining much.