and pain excepted, where happiness is excluded. The husbandman, who rises early to his labour, enjoys more welcome rest at night for it. His bread is sweeter to him, his home happier, his family dearer, his enjoyments surer. The sun, that rouses him in the morning, sets in the evening to release him. All situations have their comforts, if sweet contentment dwell in the heart. But my poor Beverley has none. The thought of having ruined those, he loves, is misery for ever to him. Would I could ease his mind of that! Char. If he alone were ruined, it were just he should be punished. He is my brother, it is true; but when I think of what he has done, of the fortune you brought him, of his own large estate too. squandered away upon this vilest of passions, and among the vilest of wretches! Oh, I have no patience! My own little fortune is untouched, he says. Would I were sure of it! Mrs Beu. And so you may-it would be a sin to doubt it. Char. I will be sure of it-it was madness in me to give it to his management. But I will demand it from him this morning. I have a melancholy occasion for it. Mrs Bev. What occasion? Mrs Bev. No; I have no need of it. Take it, and reward a lover with it. The generous Lewson deserves much more. Why won't you make him happy? Char. Because my sister is miserable. Mrs Bev. You must not think so. I have my jewels left yet. I will sell them to supply our wants; and, when all is gone, these hands shall toil for our support. The poor should be industrious-Why those tears, Charlotte? Char. They flow in pity for you. Mrs Bev. All may be well yet. When he has nothing to lose, I shall fetter him in these arms again; and then what is it to be poor? Char. Cure him but of this destructive passion, and my uncle's death may retrieve all yet. Mrs Bev. Ay, Charlotte, could we cure him! But the disease of play admits no cure but poverty; and the loss of another fortune would but increase his shame and affliction. Will Mr Lewson call this morning? Char. He said so last night. He gave me hints too, that he had suspicions of our friend Stukely. Mrs Bev. Not of treachery to my husband? That he loves play I know, but surely he is ho Mrs Bev. He had no reason, Jarvis. Jar. I was faithful to him, while he lived; and when he died, he bequeathed me to his son. I have been faithful to him, too. Mrs Bev. I know it, I know it, Jarvis. Jar. I am an old man, madam, and have not a long time to live. I asked but to have died with him, and he dismissed me. Mrs Bev. Prithee, no more of this! It was his poverty that dismissed you. Jar. Is he indeed so poor, then?--Oh! be was the joy of my old heart- -But must his creditors have all?-And have they sold his house too? His father built it, when he was but a prating boy. The times, that I have carried him in these arms! And," Jarvis," says he, when a beggar has asked charity of me, why should people be poor? You shan't be poor, Jarvis; if I were a king, nobody should be poor." Yet he is poor. And then he was so brave! Oh, he was a brave little boy! And yet so merciful, he'd not have killed the gnat, that stung him. Mrs Bev. Speak to him, Charlotte; for I Stuke. Good morning to you, ladies. Mr Jarvis, your servant. Where's my friend, madam? [To Mrs Bev. Mrs Bev. I should have asked that question of you. Have you seen him to-day ? Stuke. No, Madam. Char. Nor last night? Stuke. Last night! Did he not come home, then? Mrs Bev. No. Were you not together? Stuke. At the beginning of the evening; but not since. Where can he have staid? Mrs. Bev. I beg your pardon; but 'tis ever thus with me in Mr Beverley's absence. No one knocks at the door, but I fancy it is a messenger of ill news. Stuke. You are too fearful, madam; 'twas but one night of absence; and if ill thoughts intrude (as love is always doubtful), think of your worth and beauty, and drive them from your breast. Mrs Bev. What thoughts? I have no thoughts, that wrong my husband. Stuke. Such thoughts, indeed, would wrong Char. You call yourself his friend, sir; why him. The world is full of slander; and every do you encourage him in this madness of gam-wretch, that knows himself unjust, charges his ing? neighbour with like passions; and by the general Stuke. You have asked me that question be-frailty hides his own- -If you are wise, and fore, madam; and I told you my concern was, would be happy, turn a deaf ear to such reports. that I could not save him. Mr Beverley is a It is ruin to believe them. man, madam; and if the most friendly entreaties have no effect upon him, I have no other means. My purse has been his, even to the injury of my fortune. If that has been encouragement, I deserve censure; but I meant it to retrieve him. Mrs Bev. I don't doubt it, sir; and I thank you-But where did you leave him last night? Mre. Bev. Ay, worse than ruin. It would be to sin against conviction. Why was it mentioned? Stuke. To guard you against rumour. The sport of half mankind is mischief; and for a single error they make men devils. If their tales reach you, disbelieve them. Mrs Bev. What tales? By whom? Why told? I have heard nothing or if I had, with all his errors, my Beverley's firm faith admits no doubt Stuke. At Wilson's, madam, if I ought to tell; in company I did not like. Possibly he may be there still, Mr Jarvis knows the house, I be--It is my safety, my seat of rest and joy, while lieve. Jar. Shall I go, madam? Mrs. Bev. No, he may take it ill. Char. He may go as from himself. the storm threatens round me. I'll not forsake it. [Stukely sighs and looks down.] Why turn you, sir, away? and, why that sigh? Stuke. I was attentive, madam; and sighs Stuke. And, if he pleases, madam, without na- will come we know not why. Perhaps, I have ming me. I am faulty myself, and should con- been too busy-If it should seem so, impute my ceal the errors of a friend. But I can refuse no-zeal to friendship, that meant to guard you athing here. [Bowing to the ladies.gainst evil tongues. Your Beverley is wronged, slandered most vilely-My life upon his truth. Mrs Bev. And mine too. Who is it that doubts it? But no matter-I am prepared, sir Jar. I would fain see him, methinks. Mrs Bev. Do so, then; but take care how you upbraid him-I never upbraided him. Jar. Would I could bring him comfort! [Exit. Stuke. Don't be too much alarmed, madam. All men have their errors, and their times of seeing them. Perhaps, my friend's time is not come yet. But he has an uncle; and old men don't live for ever. You should look forward, madam; we are taught how to value a second fortune by the loss of a first. [Knocking at the door. Mrs. Bev. Hark!—No-that knocking was too rude for Mr Beverley. Pray Heaven he be well! Stuke. Never doubt it, madam. You shall be well, too-Every thing shall be well. [Knocking again. Mrs. Beo. The knocking is a little loud, though-Who waits there? Will none of you answer?-None of you, did I say? Alas, what was I thinking of! I had forgot myself. Char. I'll go, sister-But don't be alarmed so. [Exit. Stuke. What extraordinary accident have you to fear, madam ? -Yet why this caution?—You are my husband's friend; I think you mine too; the common friend of both. [Pauses.] I had been unconcerned else. Stuke. For Heaven's sake, madam, be so still! I mean to guard you against suspicion, not to alarm it. Mrs Bev. Nor have you, sir. Who told you of suspicion? I have a heart it cannot reach. Stuke. Then I am happy-I would say more; but am prevented. Stuke. I wish I had known of this. Was it a large demand, madam? Char. I heard not that; but visits, such as these, we must expect often ----Why so distressed, sister ? This is no new affliction. Mrs Bev. No, Charlotte; but I am faint with watching quite sunk and spiritless-Will you excuse me, sir? I'll to my chamber, and try to • rest a little. [Erit. | Stuke. Good thoughts go with you, madam. My bait is taken, then. [Aside.] Poor Mrs Beverley! How my heart grieves to see her thus ! Char. Cure her, and be a friend, then. Stuke. How cure her, madam? Char. Reclaim my brother. Stuke. Ay, give him a new creation, or breathe another soul into him. I'll think on it, madam. Advice, I see, is thankless. Char. Useless I am sure it is, if through mistaken friendship, or other motives, you feed his passion with your purse, and soothe it by example. Physicians, to cure fevers, keep from the patient's thirsty lip the cup, that would inflame lin. You give it to his hands. [A knocking.] Hark, sir !These are my brother's desperate symptomsAnother creditor. Stuke. One not so easily got rid of-What, Enter LEWSON. Lew. Madam, your servant- -Yours, sir. I was enquiring for you at your lodgings. Stuke. This morning! You had business, then? Lew. You'll call it by another name, perhaps. Where's Mr Beverley, madam? Char. We have sent to enquire for him. Lew. Is he abroad, then? He did not use to go out so early. Char. No, nor stay out so late. Lew. Is that the case? I am sorry for it.But Mr Stukely, perhaps, may direct you to him. Stuke. I have already, sir. But what was your business with me? Lew. To congratulate you upon your late successes at play. Poor Beverley!-But you are his friend; and there's a comfort in having successful friends. Stuke. And what am I to understand by this? Lew. That Beverley's a poor man, with a rich friend; that's all. Stuke. Your words would mean something, I suppose. Another time, sir, I shall desire an explanation. Lew. And why not now? I am no dealer in long sentences. A minute or two will do for me. | Stuke. But not for me, sir. I am slow of ap- | prehension, and must have time and privacy. A lady's presence engages my attention. Another morning I may be found at home. Lew. Another morning, then, I'll wait upon you. Stuke. I shall expect you, sir. Madam, your [Erit Stukely. servant. Char. What mean you by this? Lew. To hint to him, that I know him. Char. How know him? Mere doubt and supposition ! Lew. I shall have proof soon. Char. And what then? Would you risque your life to be his punisher ? Lew. My life, madam! Don't be afraid. And yet I am happy in your concern for me. But let it content you, that I know this StukelyIt will be as easy to make him honest as brave. Char. And what do you intend to do? Lero. Nothing; till I have proof. Yet my suspicions are well-grounded-But, methinks, madam, I ain acting here without authority. Could I have leave to call Mr Beverley brother, his concerns would be my own. Why will you make my services appear officious? Char. You know my reasons, and should not press me. But I am cold, you say; and cold. I will be, while a poor sister's destitute My heart bleeds for her; and, till I see her sorrows moderated, love has no joys for me. Lew. Can I be less a friend by being a brother? I would not say an unkind thing-But the pillar of your house is shaken; prop it with another, and it shall stand firm again. You must comply. Char. And will, when I have peace within myself. But let us change this subject---Your business here this morning is with my sister. Misfortunes press too hard upon her; yet, till today, she has borne them nobly. Lew. Where is she? Char. Gone to her chamber. Her spirits failed her. Lew. I hear her coming. Let what has passed with Stukely be a secret-She has already too much to trouble her. Enter Mrs Beverley. Mrs Bev. Good morning, sir; I heard your voice, and, as I thought, enquiring for me.Where's Mr Stukely, Charlotte? Char. This moment gone-You have been in tears, sister; but here's a friend shall comfort you. Lew. Or, if I add to your distresses, I will beg your pardon, madam. The sale of your house and furniture was finished yesterday. Mrs Bev. I know it, sir; I know too your gcnerous reason for putting me in mind of it. But you have obliged me too much already. Lew. There are trifles, madam, which I know you have set a value on; those I have purchased, and will deliver. I have a friend too, that esteems you- -He has bought largely, and will call nothing his, till he has seen you. If a visit to him would not be painful, he has begged it may be this morning. the devil. Mrs Bev. Not painful in the least. My pain | in his pocket, and a set of dicc, that shall deceive is from the kindness of my friends. Why am I to be obliged beyond the power of return? Lew. You shall repay us at your own time. I have a coach waiting at the door-Shall we have your company, madam? [To Charlotte. Char. No; my brother may return soon; I'll stay and receive him. Mrs Bev. He may want a comforter, perhaps. But dont upbraid him, Charlotte. We shall not be absent long. Come, sir, since I must be so obliged. Lew. 'Tis I, that am obliged. An hour, or less, will be sufficient for us. We shall find you at home, madam? [To Charlotte, and exit with Mrs Beverley. Char. Certainly. I have but little inclination to appear abroad. Oh, this brother, this brother! to what wretchedness has he reduced us! [Exit. SCENE II-Changes to Stukely's Lodgings. Enter STUKELY. Stuke. That fellow has a head to undo a nation; but for the rest, they are such low-mannered, ill-looking dogs, I wonder Beverley has not suspected them. Do Bates. No matter for manners and looks. you supply them with money, and they are gentlemen by professionThe 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? Bates. To knock loud, and be clamorous. Did not you see him? 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 farther 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 hin money, and they stare at me. But they are fools. I want him to believe me beggared by him. Stuke. That Lewson suspects me 'tis too plain. Yet why should he suspect me? I appear the friend of Beverley as much as he. But I am rich, it seems; and so I am, thanks to another's folly, and my own wisdom. To what use is wisdom, but to take advantage of the weak? This Beverley's my fool; I cheat him, and he calls me friend. But more business must be done yet— -His wife's jewels are unsold; so is the reversion of his uncle's estate: I must have these too. And then there's a treasure above all-I love his wifeBefore she knew this Beverley I loved her; but, like a cringing fool, bowed at a distance, while he stepped in and won her-Never, never will I forgive him for it. My pride, as well as love, is wounded by this conquest. I must have vengeance. Those hints this morning were well thrown in-Already they have fastened on her. If jealousy should weaken her affections, want may corrupt her virtue-My heart rejoices in the hope-These jewels may do muchHeed to him. shall demand them of her; which, when mine, shall be converted to special purposes—What now, Bates? Bates. And what then? 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? Stuke. To save suspicion. It looked friendly, and they thanked me. Old Jarvis was dispatch Bates. And may intreat 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 II. SCENE I-A Gaming House, with a Table, Box, Dice, &c. 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. Oh, shame, shame! Had fortune given me but a little, that little had been still 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 morning waked me to delightOh, bitter thought, that leads to what I was by what I am! I would forget both-Who's there? 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, shew 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. Enter JARVIS. Jarvis! Why this intrusion? Your absence had been kinder. Jar. I came in duty, sir. If it be trouble some 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-But does she weep? I am to blame to let her weep. 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. Bev. Not leave me! Recall past time, then; or, through this sea of storms and darkness, shew 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. Thinkest thou I would ruin thee too! I have enough of shame alreadyMy wife, my wife! Wouldst thou believe it, Jarvis? I have not seen her all this long night--I, who Jur. For pity's sake, sir!to see this change. Bev. Nor I to bear itworld of me, Jarvis ? -I have no heart -How speaks the 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. I have a moment's business. But what hast thou to do with my distresses? Thy honesty has left thee poor; and age wants comfort-Keep what thou hast for cordials, lest between thee and the grave misery steal in. I have a friend shall counsel me -This is that friend. |