Char. I had no other reasons.-Where will this end?

Lew. It shall end presently.

Char. Go on, sir.

Lew. A promise, such as this, given freely, not extorted, the world thinks binding; but I think otherwise.

Char. And would release me from it? Lew. You are too impatient, madam. Char. Cool, sir-quite cool-Pray go on. Lew. Time, and a near acquaintance with my faults, may have 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, I shall entreat an answer. Have you repented of this promise?

Char. Stay, sir. The man, that can suspect me, shall find me changed-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 ine, or even a wish for separation, all that has passed is nothing.

Char. You startle mee-But tell me I must be answered first. Is it from honour you speak this? Or do you wish me changed?

Lew. Heaven knows I do not. Life and my Charlotte are so connected, that to lose one, were loss of both. Yet for a promise, though given in love, and meant for binding; if time or accident, or reason should change opinion-with me that promise has no force.

Your

Char. Why, now I'll answer you. doubts are prophecies—I am really changed. Lew. Indeed!

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.

Char. What reasons?

Lew. The strongest reasons; unanswerable

ones.

Char. Be quick and name them.

Lew. No, madam; I am bound in honour to make conditions first I am bound by inclination too. This sweet profusion of kind words pains, while it pleases. I dread the losing you. Char. Astonishment! what mean you?

Lew. First promise, that to-morrow, or the next day, you will be mine for ever.

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 Charlotte.

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 would 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 it is otherwise; and for a life of obligations, I have not learned to bear it.

Lew. Mine is that life. You are too noble.
Char. Leave me to think on it.
Lew. To-morrow, then, you will fix my happi-

ness?

Char. All that I can, I will.

Lew. It must be so; we live but for each other. Keep what you know a secret; and when we meet to-morrow, more may be known. Farewell.

[Erit.

Char. My poor, poor sister! how would this wound her! But I will conceal it, and speak comfort to her. [Exit.

SCENE III.-Changes to a room in a gaming house.

Enter BEVERLEY and STUKELY. Bev. Whither would you lead me? [Distractedly. 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 let all loose to tempt me-I had resisted else.

Stuke. Go on, sir-I have deserved this from you.

Bev. 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

it.

Bev. A friend! What's he? I had a friend.

Stuke. And have one still.

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 into 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 succeed ing, chose ruin with you. But no matter, I have undone you, and am a villain.

Bev. No; I think not-The villains are within.

Bev. What mean you?

Stuke. That the reversion of his estate is yours, and will bring money to pay debts with; Nay more, it may retrieve what's past. Bev. Or leave my child a beggar.

Stuke. And what is his father! a dishonourable one; engaged for sums he cannot pay-That should be thought of.

Bev. It is my shame-the poison, that inflames me. Where shall we go? To whom? I am impatient till all is lost.

Stuke. All may be yours again-Your man is Bates-He has large funds at his command, and will deal justly by you.

Ber. I am resolved-Tell them within we will meet them presently; and with full purses, too -Come, follow me.

Stuke. No. I have no hand in this; nor do I counsel it-Use your discretion, and act from that. You will find me at my lodgings.

Bev. Succeed what will, this night I'll dare the worst;

'Tis loss of fear to be completely cursed.

[Exit.

Stuke. Why, lose it then for ever.-Fear is the mind's worst evil; and 'tis a friendly office to drive it from the bosom. Thus far has fortune crowned me--Yet Beverley is rich; rich in his wife's best treasure-her honour and affections. I would supplant him there too. But it is the curse of thinking minds to raise up difficulties. Fools only conquer women. Fearless of dangers, which they see not, they press on boldly, and, by persisting, prosper. Yet may a tale of art do

Stuke. Nothing. My counsels have been fatal. Beo. By Heaven I'll not survive this shameTraitor! 'tis you have brought it on me. [Taking hold of him. Shew me the means to save me, or I'll commit a murder here, and next upon myself!

Stuke. Why do it then, and rid me of ingratitude.

Bev. Prithee forgive this language-I speak 1 know not what-Rage and despair are in my heart, and hurry me to madness. My home is horror to me-I'll not return to it. Speak quickly; tell me, if, in this wreck of fortune, one hope remains? Name it, and be my oracle.

Stuke. To vent your curses on-You have bestowed them liberally. Take your own counsel; and should a desperate hope present itself, it will suit your desperate fortune. I'll not advise you.

Bev. What hope? By heaven I'll catch at it, however desperate. I am so sunk in misery, it cannot lay me lower.

Stuke. You have an uncle.
Bev. Ay, what of him?

Stuke. Old men live long by temperance; while their heirs starve on expectation.

of jealousy are sown already. If I mistake not, they have taken root too. Now is the time to ripen them, and reap the harvest. The softest of her sex, if wronged in love, or thinking that she's wronged, becomes a tygress in revenge.I'll instantly to Beverley's-No matter for danger. When beauty leads us on, it is indiscretion to reflect, and cowardice to doubt.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.-Changes to BEVERLEY's Lodgings,

Enter Mrs BEVERLEY and Lucy.

Mrs Bev. Did Charlotte tell you any thing? Lucy. No, madam.

Mrs Bev. She looked confused, methought; said she had business with her Lewson; which, when I pressed to know, tears only were her answer. Lucy. She seemed in haste, too-Yet her return may bring you comfort.

Mrs Bev. No, my kind girl; I was not born for it. But why do I distress thee? Thy sympathizing heart bleeds for the ills of others.What pity, that thy mistress cannot reward thee! But there is a Power above, that sees, and will remember, all. [Knocking.] Prithee soothe me with the song thou sung'st last night. It suits

Lucy. I fear it hurts you, madam. Your goodness, too, draws tears from me. But I will dry them, and obey you.

SONG.

When Damon languished at my feet,
And I believed him true,
The moments of delight how sweet!
But, ah! how swift they flew !
The sunny hill, the flowery vale,
The garden and the grove,
Have echoed to his ardent tale,
Aud vows of endless love.

The conquest gained, he left his prize,
He left her to complain,

To talk of joy with weeping eyes,
And measure time by pain.

But Heaven will take the mourner's part,
In pity to despair;

And the last sigh, that rends the heart,
Shall waft the spirit there.

Mrs Bev. I thank thee, Lucy; I thank Heaven too, my griefs are none of these. Yet Stukely deals in hints; he talks of rumours; I will urge him to speak plainly.-Hark! there is some one entering.

Lucy. Perhaps it is my master, madam. [Exit. Mrs Bev. Let him be well too, and I am satisfied. [Goes to the door and listens.] No, it is another's voice; his had been music to me. Who is it, Lucy?

Re-enter LUCY with STUKELY. Lucy. Mr Stukely, madam. [Exit. Stuke. To meet you thus alone, madam, was what I wished. Unseasonable visits, when friendship warrants them, need no excuse; therefore I make none:

Mrs Bev. What mean you, sir? And where is your friend?

Stuke. Men may have secrets, madam, which their best friends are not admitted to. We parted in the morning, not soon to meet again.

Mrs Bev. You mean to leave us then; to leave your country too? I am no stranger to your reasons, and pity your misfortunes.

Mrs Bev. Proceed, sir.

Stuke. It is a debt due to my fame; due to an injured wife too-We are both injured. Mrs Bev. How injured? And who has inju red us?

Stuke. My friend, your husband.

Mrs Bed. You would resent for both, thenBut know, sir, my injuries are my own, and do not need a champion.

Stuke. Be not too hasty, madam. I come not in resentment, but for acquittance. You thought me poor; and to the feigned distresses of a friend gave up your jewels.

Mrs Bev. I gave them to a husband.

Stuke. Who gave them to a

Mrs Bev. What, whom did he give them to? Stuke. A mistress.

Mrs Bev. No, on my life he did not. Stuke. Himself confessed it, with curses on her avarice.

Mrs Bev. I will not believe it-He has no mistress; or if he has, why is it told to me?

Stuke. To guard you against insults. He told me, that, to move you to compliance, he forged that letter, pretending I was ruined, ruined by him too. The fraud succeeded: and what a trusting wife bestowed in pity, was lavished on a wanton!

Mrs Bev. Then I am lost indeed! and my afflictions are too powerful for me. His follies I have borne without upbraiding, and saw the approach of poverty without a tear. My affections, my strong affections, supported me through every trial.

Stuke. Be patient, madam.

Mrs Bev. Patient! the barbarous, ungrateful man! And does he think, that the tenderness of my heart is his best security for wounding it? But he shall find, that injuries such as these, can arm my weakness for vengeance and redress.

Stuke. Ha! then I may succeed. [Aside.] Redress is in your power.

Mrs Bev. What redress?

Mrs Bev. Impossible! Whence came it then? Stuke. Wronged as I am, madam, I must speak plainly.

Mrs Bev. Do so, and ease me. Your hints have troubled me. Reports, you say, are stirringReports of whom? You wished me not to cre"dit them. What, sir, are these reports?

Stuke. I thought them slander, madam; and

sister, too, with unavailing tears, lamenting her lost fortune? No comfort left you, but ineffectual pity from the few, outweighed by insults from the many?

Mrs Bev. Am I so lost a creature?-
sir, my redress?

-Well,

Stuke. To be resolved is to secure it. The marriage vow, once violated, is, in the sight of Heaven, dissolved.—Start not, but hear me. 'Tis now the summer of your youth; time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow

long has washed them. Then use your beauty wisely, and, freed by injuries, fly from the lest of men for shelter with the kindest! Mrs Bev. And who is he?

Stuke. A friend to the unfortunate; a bold one too, who, while the storm is bursting on your brow, and lightning flashing from your eyes, dares tell you, that he loves you.

Mrs Bev. Would that these eves had Heaven's own lightning, that, with a look, thus I might blast thee! Am I then fallen so low? Has poverty so humbled me, that I should listen to a hellish offer, and sell my soul for bread? Oh, villain, villain!-But now I know thee, and thank thee for the knowledge.

Stuke. If you are wise, you shall have cause to thank me.

Mrs Bev. An injured husband, too, shall thank thee.

Stuke. Yet know, proud woman, I have a heart as stubborn as your own: as haughty and imperious; and as it loves, so can it hate.

Mrs. Bev. Mean, despicable villain! I scorn thee and thy threats. Was it for this, that Beverley was false? that his too credulous wife should, in despair and vengeance, give up her honour to a wretch? But he shall know it, and vengeance shall be his.

Mrs. Bev. Oh, coward, coward! thy soul will shrink at him. Yet, in the thought of what may happen, I feel a woman's fears. Keep thy own secret, and begone. Who's there?

Enter LUCY.

Your absence, sir, would please me.
Stuke. I will not offend
you, madam.

[Exit Stukely with Lucy. Mrs. Bev. Why opens not the earth to swallow such a monster? Be conscience, then, his punisher, till Heaven, in mercy, gives him penitence, or dooms him in his justice.

Re-enter Lucy.

Come to my chamber, Lucy; I have a tale to tell thee, shall make thee weep for thy poor mistress.

Yet heaven the guiltless sufferer regards;
And whom it most afflicts it most rewards.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I-BEVERLEY'S lodgings. Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, CHARLOTTE, and LEW

SON.

Char. THE Smooth-tongued hypocrite!

Lew. But we have found him, and will requite him-Be cheerful, madam; [To Mrs. Bec.] and for the insults of this ruffian you shall have ample retribution.

Mrs. Bev. But not by violence-Remember, you have sworn it; I had been silent else.

Lew. You need not doubt me; I shall be cool as patience.

Mrs. Bev. See him to-morrow then. Lew. And why not now? By Heaven, the veriest worm that crawls is made of braver spirit than this Stukely—Yet, for my promise, I will deal gently with him-I mean to watch his looks-From those, and from his answers to my charge, much may be learnt. Next I will to Bates, and sift him to the bottom: if I fail there, the gang is numerous, and for a bribe will each betray the other—Good night; I will lose no time. [Exit.

Mrs. Bev. These boisterous spirits, how they wound me! But reasoning is in vain. Come, Charlotte, we will to our usual watch. The night grows late.

Char. I am fearful of events; yet pleasedTo-morrow may relieve us. [Going.

Enter JARVIS.

How now, good Jarvis?

Jur. I have heard ill news, madam.
Mrs. Bev. What news? Speak quickly.

Jar. Men are not what they seem. I fear me Mr. Stukely is dishonest.

Char. We know it, Jarvis. But what's your news?

Jar. That there's an action against my master, at his friend's suit.

Mrs. Bev. Oh, villain, villain! 'twas this be threatened, then! Run to that den of robbers, Wilson's-Your master may be there. Entreat him home, good Jarvis. Say I have business with him-But tell him not of Stukely-It may provoke him to revenge- -Haste, haste, good [Exit Jarvis Char. This minister of hell! Oh, I could tear him piece-meal!

Jarvis.

Mrs. Bev. I am sick of such a world-Yet Heaven is just; and, in its own good time, wil hurl destruction on such monsters. [Ereant.

SCENE II.-Changes to STUKELY's lodgings

Enter STUKELY and BATES meeting.. Bates. Where have you been?

Stuke. Fooling my time away; playing my tricks, like a tame monkey, to entertain a woman

Bates. Like one (so Dawson says) whose senses had been numb'd with misery. When all was lost, he fixed his eyes upon the ground, and stood some time, with folded arms, stupid and motionless; then snatching his sword, that hung against the wainscot, he sat him down, and, with a look of fixed attention, drew figures on the floor. At last, he started up, looked wild, and trembled; and, like a woman seized with her sex's fits, laughed out aloud, while the tears trickled down his face-so left the room.

Stuke. Why, this was madness. Bates. The madness of despair. Stuke. We must confine him then. A prison would do well. [A knocking at the door.] Hark! that knocking may he his. Go that way down. [Exit Bates.Who's there?

Enter LEWSON.

Lew. An enemy-an open and avowed one. Stuke. Why am I thus broke in upon? This house is mine, sir; and should protect me from insult and ill-manners.

Lew. Guilt has no place of sanctuary; whereever found, it is virtue's lawful game. The fox's hold and tyger's den are no security against the hunter.

Stake. Your business, sir?

Lew. To tell you, that I know you- -Why this confusion? That look of guilt and terror? Is Beverley awake; or has his wife told tales? The man, that dares like you, should have a soul to justify his deeds, and courage to confront accusers: not, with a coward's fear, to shrink beneath reproof.

Stuke. Who waits there?

[Aloud, and in confusion. Lew. By Heaven, he dies that interrupts us. [Shutting the door.] You should have weighed your strength, sir; and then, instead of climbing to high fortune, the world had marked you for what you are, a little paltry villain.

Stuke. You think I fear you.

Lew. I know you fear me. This is to prove it. [Pulls him by the sleeve.] You wanted privacy- -A lady's presence took up your attention -Now we are alone, sir. Why, what a wretch! [Flings him from him.] The vilest insect in creation will turn, when trampled on; yet has this thing undone a man-by cunning and mean arts undone him. But we have found you, sir; traced you through all your labyrinths. If you would save yourself, fall to confession: no mercy will be shewn else.

Stuke. First prove me what you think me-till then, your threatenings are in vain-And for this insult, vengeance may yet be mine.

-A wretch, so mean of soul, that even desperation cannot animate him to look upon an enemy. You should not have thus soared, sir, unless, like others of your black profession, you had a sword to keep the fools in awe, your villainy had ruined.

Stuke. Villainy! It were best to curb this licence of your tongue; for know, sir, while there are laws, this outrage on my reputation will not be borne with.

Lew. Laws! Darest thou seek shelter from the laws, those laws, which thou and thy infernal crew live in the constant violation of? Talkest thou of reputation too, when, under friendship's sacred name, thou hast betrayed, robbed, and destroyed?

Stuke. Ay, rail at gaming; it is a rich topic, and affords noble declamation- -Go, preach against it in the city: you will find a congregation in every tavern. If they should laugh at you, fly to my lord, and sermonize it there: he will thank you, and reform.

Lew. And will example sanctify a vice? No, wretch; the custom of my lord, or of the cit, that apes him, cannot excuse a breach of law, or make the gamester's calling reputable.

Stuke. Rail on, I say- -But is this zeal for beggared Beverley? Is it for him, that I am treated thus? No; he and his wife might both have groaned in prison, had but the sister's fortune escaped the wreck, to have rewarded the disinterested love of honest Mr Lewson.

Lew. How I detest thee for the thought! But thou art lost to every human feeling. Yet let me tell thee, and may it wring thy heart, that though my friend is ruined by thy snares, thou hast, unknowingly, been kind to me.

Stuke. Have I? It was, indeed, unknowingly. Lew. Thou hast assisted me in love; given me the merit, that I wanted; since, but for thee, my Charlotte had not known it was her dear self I sighed for, and not her fortune.

Stuke. Thank me, and take her then.

Lew. And, as a brother to poor Beverley, I will pursue the robber, that has stripped him; and snatch him from his gripe.

Stuke. Then know, imprudent man, he is within my gripe; and should my friendship for him be slandered once again, the hand, that has supplied him, shall fall and crush him.

Lew. Why, now there is a spirit in thee! This is indeed to be a villain! But I shall reach thee yet-Fly where thou wilt, my vengeance shall pursue thee-And Beverley shall yet be saved; be saved from thee, thou monster! nor owe his rescue to his wife's dishonour.

[Exit.