Stuke. "Tis surely impulse; it pleads so strongly-But you are cold-We'll e'en part here then. And for this last reserve, keep it for better uses; I'll have none on't. I thank you though, and will seek fortune singlyOne thing I had forgot Beo. What is it? Stuke. Perhaps 'twere best forgotten. But I am open in my nature, and zealous for the honour of my friend - Lewson speaks freely of you. Reason would lose what rashness may ob- SCENE II.-BEVERLEY'S Lodgings. 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 irrecoverable - You are too spiritless a wife-A mournful tale, mixed Bev. Of you I know he does. friend, I'm angry. Rev. What says he of me? soul. The world's too subtle for such goodness. Had I been by, he should have asked Stuke. That Charlotte's fortune is embezzled your life sooner than those jewels. -He talks on't loudly. Mrs. B. He should have had it then. Bev. He shall be silenced then-How heard [Warmly.] I live but to oblige him. She you of it? who can love and is beloved, like me, will do Stuke. From many. He questioned Bates as much. Men have done more for mistressabout it. You must account with him, he says. es, and women for a base deluder: and shall Bev. Or he with me-and soon too. Bev. May these be prosperous then, [Offering the Notes, which he refuses] Nay, they are yours-I have sworn it, and will have nothing-Take them, and use them. Stuke. Singly I will not-My cares are for my friend; for his lost fortune and ruined family. All separate interests I disclaim. Together we have fallen; together we must rise. My heart, my honour, and affections, all will have it so. Bev. I am weary of being fooled. Stuke. And so am I-Here let us part then -These bodings of good fortune shall all be stifled; call them folly, and forgot, them farewell. a wife do less? Your chidings hurt me, Charlotte. Char. The friend that has betrayed him. Char. Unless a friend has wanted-I have no patience-Sister! sister! we are bound to curse this friend. Mrs. B. My Beverley speaks nobly of him. Char. And Lewson truly-But I displease you with this talk.-To-morrow will instruct us. Mrs. B. Stay till it comes then-1 would not think so hardly. Char, Nor I, but from conviction-Yet we have hope of better days. My uncle is infirm, and of an age that threatens hourly-Or if he lives, you never have offended him; and for distresses so unmerited he will have pity. Mrs. B. I know it, and am cheerful. We Bev. No; stay a moment-How my poor heart's distracted! I have the bodings too; but have no more to lose; and for what is gone, whether caught from you, or prompted by my if it brings prudence home, the purchase was good or evil genius, I know not-The trial well made. shall determine-And yet, my wifeStuke. Ay, ay, she'll chide. Bev. No; my chidings are all here. [Pointing to his Heart. 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. Enter LEWSON. Stuke. I'll not persuade you. Bev. I am persuaded; by reason too; the We were just speaking of you. strongest reason, necessity. Oh, could I but Lew. "Tis best to interrupt you then. Few regain the height I have fallen from, heaven characters will bear a scrutiny; and where should forsake me in my latest hour, if I again the bad outweighs the good, he's safest that's mixed in these scenes, or sacrificed the hus- least talked of. What say you, madam? band's peace, his joy, 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? Beo. Come on then-Where shall we meet? leave me: I have misled you often. [To Charlotte. Char. That I hate scandal, though a woman therefore talk seldom of you. Mrs. B. Or, with more truth, that though a woman, she loves to praise-therefore talks always of you. I'll leave you to decide it. [Exit. Lew. How good and amiable! I came to talk Bec. We have misled each other-But come! in private with you, of matters that concern you. Fortune is fickle, and may be tir'd with plagu- Stuke. Yet think a little. vain; Char. What matters? Lew. First, answer me sincerely to what I ask. Lew. "Tis now a tedious twelvemonth since, with an open and kind heart, you said you loved me. And when, in consequence of such 103 sweet words, I pressed for marriage, you gave other. Keep what you know a secret; and a voluntary promise that you would live for me. when we meet to-morrow, more may be Char. You think me changed then? known. Farewell. [Exit. [Angrily. Char. My poor, poor sister! how would Lew. I did not say so. Time and a near this wound her! But I'll conceal it, and speak arquaintance with my faults may have brought comfort to her. [Exit. 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. Why am I doubted? Lew. My doubts are of myself. I have my hults, 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 SCENE III.-A Room in a Gaming-house. Enter BEVERLEY and STUKELY. [Angrily. Stuke. Where we may vent our curses. Beo. 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. Bev. And curses everlasting-Time is too scanty for them- Stuke. What have I done? Bev. What the arch-devil of old did Char. I could torment you now, as you have me; but it is not in my nature. That I am soothed with false hopes for certain ruin. changed, I own: for what at first was incli- Stuke. Myself unhurt; nay, pleased at your mation is now grown reason in me; and from destruction-So your words mean. Why, tell that reason, had I the world, nay, were I it to the world. I am too poor to find a poorer than the poorest, and you too wanting bread-I would be yours, and happy. Lex. My kindest Charlotte! [Taking her Hand] Thanks are too poor for this-and words too weak! But if we loved 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 ones. Char. Be quick and name them. Char. I do-though misery should succeed. Lew. Your fortune's lost. friend in't. Beo. 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 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 succeeding, chose ruin with you. But no matter, I have undone you, and am a villain. Beo. No; I think not-The villains are within. Stuke. What villains? Bev. Dawson and the rest-We have been dupes to sharpers. Stuke. How know you this? I have had Char. My fortune lost! - I'll study to be doubts as well as you; yet still as fortune humble then. But was my promise claimed changed I blushed at my own thoughts.-But for this? How nobly generous! Where learned you have proofs, perhaps? you this sad news? Lew. From Bates, Stukeley'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. Bev. Ay, damned ones. Repeated lossesNight after night, and no reverse-Chance has no hand in this. Stuke. I think more charitably; yet I am peevish in my nature, and apt to doubt-The world speaks fairly of this Dawson; so it does of the rest. We have watched them closely Lex. He knows much more than he has told. too. But 'tis a right usurped by losers, to Char. For me it is enough. And for your think the winners knaves-We'll have more generous love, I thank you from my soul. If manhood in us. you'd oblige me more, give me a little time. Beo. I know not what to think-This night Lew. Why time? It robs us of our happiness. has stung me to the quick-Blasted my repChar. I have a task to learn first. The little utation too-I have bound my honour to these pride this fortune gave me must be subdued. vipers; played meanly upon credit, till I tired Once we were equal; but now 'tis otherwise; them; and now they shun me, to rifle one and for a life of obligations, I have not learned another. What's to be done? to bear it. Stuke. Nothing. My counsels have been Lew. Mine is that life. You are too noble. fatal. Char. Leave me to think on't. Bev. By heaven I'll not survive this shame Lew. To-morrow then you'll fix my hap--Traitor! 'tis you have brought it on me. piness? [Taking hold of him] Show me the means to save me, or I'll commit a murder here, and Char. All that I can I will. Lew. It must be so; we live but for each next upon myself. Stuke. Why, do it then, and rid me of in-1 Mrs. B. No, my kind girl; I was not born gratitude. for it-But why do I distress thee? Thy symBev. Pr'ythee forgive this language-I speak pathizing heart bleeds for the ills of othersI know not what-Rage and despair are in What pity that thy mistress can't reward my heart, and hurry me to madness. My thee! But there's a power above, that sees home is horror to me I'll not return to it. and will remember all, [Knocking] Hark! Speak quickly; tell me, if, in this wreck of there's some one entering. fortune, one hope remains? Name it, and be my oracle. Lucy. Perhaps 'tis my master, madam. [Exit. Stuke. To vent your curses on-You have Mrs. B. Let him be well too, and I am bestowed them liberally. Take your own satisfied. [Goes to the Door and listens] No, counsel; and should a desperate hope present 'tis another's voice. itself, 'twill suit your desperate fortune. I'll not advise you. Beo. 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. Be. What mean you? Sluke. That the reversion of his estate is yours; and will bring money to pay debts with-Nay more, it may retrieve what's past. Beo. Or leave my child a beggar. Stuke. And what's his father? A dishonourable one; engaged for sums he cannot payThat should be thought of. Bev. It is my shame-The poison that inflames me. Where shall we go? To whom? I'm impatient till all's lost. Stuke. All may be yours again-Your man is Bates-He has large funds at his command, and will deal justly by you. Bev. I am resolved-Tell them within we'll Re-enter LuCY, with STUKELY. Lucy. Mr. Stukely, madam. [Exit. Stuke. To meet you thus alone, madanı, was what I wished. Unseasonable visits, when friendship warrants them, need no excusetherefore I make none. Mrs. B. What mean you, sir? And where is your friend? We Stuke. Men may have secrets, madam, which their best friends are not admitted to. parted in the morning, not soon to meet again. Mrs. B. You mean to leave us then-to leave your country too? I am no stranger to your reasons, and pity your misfortunes. Stuke. Your pity has undone you. Could Beverley do this? That letter was a false one; a mean contrivance to rob you of your jewels -I wrote it not. Mrs. B. Impossible! Whence came it then? Stuke. Wronged as I am, madam, I must speak plainly. Mrs. B. Do so, and ease me. Your hints have troubled me. Reports, you say, are stirr meet them presently; and with full purses, ing-Reports of whom? You wished me not oo - Come, follow me. too Stuke. No; I'll have no hand in this; nor do I counsel it-Use your discretion, and act from that. You'll find me at my lodgings. Bev. Succeed what will, this night I'll dare 'Tis loss of fear to be completely curst. 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-Thús far has fortune crowned me-Yet Beverley is rich; to credit them. What, sir, are these reports? Stuke. I thought them slander, madam; and cautioned in friendship, lest from officious tongues the tale had reached you with double aggravation. Mrs. B. Proceed, sir. Stuke. It is a debt due to my fame; due to an injured wife too. - VVe are both injured. Mrs. B. How injured? And who has injured us? Stuke. My friend-your husband. Mrs. B. You would resent for both then; rich in his wife's best treasure, her honour but know, sir, my injuries are my own, and and affections. I would supplant him there do not need a champion. You too. Charlotte is sometimes absent. The seeds Stuke. Be not too hasty, madam. I come of jealousy are sown already. If I mistake not in resentment, but for acquittance. not, they have taken root too. Now is the thought me poor; and to the feigned distresses time to ripen them, and reap the harvest. The of a friend gave up your jewels. softest of her sex, if wronged in love, or thinking that she's wronged, becomes a tigress SCENE IV. BEVERLEY'S Lodgings. Mrs. B. She looked confused, methought: Mrs. B. I gave them to a husband. Stuke. Who gave them to a- Mrs. B. No; on my life he did not. Stuke. Himself confessed it, with curses on her avarice. Mrs. B. I'll 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, what a trusting wife bestowed in pity, was lavished on a wanton. said she had business with her Lewson; which ruined by him too. The fraud succeeded; and when I pressed to know, tears only were her Mrs. B. Then I am lost indeed! His follies I have borne without upbraiding, and saw the approach of poverty without a tear-My af- his punisher, till heaven, in mercy, gives him fections, my strong affections, supported me penitence, or dooms him in his justice. [Exit. through every trial. Stuke. Be patient, madam. Mrs. B. 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. B. What redress? ACT IV. SCENE I.-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. No matter where I have been vexed and disappointed. Tell me of Beverley: how bore he his last shock? Stuke. Forgive me, madam, if, in my zeal to serve you, I hazard your displeasure. Think Bates. Like one (so Dawson says) whose of your wretched state. Already want sur- senses had been numbed with misery. When rounds you-Is it in patience to bear that? all was lost, he fixed his eyes upon the ground, To see your helpless little one robbed of his and stood some time, with folded arms, stupid birthright? A sister too, with unavailing tears, and motionless; then snatching his sword, that lamenting her lost fortune? No comfort left hung against the wainscot, he sat him down, you, but ineffectual pity from the few, out-and with a look of fixed attention, drew fiweighed by insults from the many. gures on the floor. At last he started up, Mrs. B. Am I so lost a creature ?-Well, looked wild, and trembled; and, like a woman sir, my redress? seized with her sex' fits, laughed out aloud, Stuke. Why, this was madness. 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 cropped the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them. Then would do well. [A knocking at the Door] use your beauty wisely, and, freed by injuries, Hark! that knocking may be his-Go that way fly from the cruellest of men, for shelter with down. [Exit Bates] Who's there? the kindest. Mrs. B. 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. Stuke. We must confine him then-A prison 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. Mrs. B. 'Would that these eyes had heaven's Lew. Guilt has no place of sanctuary; wherown lightning, that, with a look, thus I might ever found, 'tis virtue's lawful game. The blast thee! Am I then fallen so low? Has fox's hold, and tiger's den, are no security poverty so humbled me, that I should listen against the hunter. to a hellish offer, and sell my soul for bread? Stuke. Your business, sir? -Oh, villain! villain!-But now I know thee, and thank thee for that knowledge. Stuke. If you are wise, you shall have cause to thank me. 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 Mrs. B. An injured husband too shall thank soul to justify his deeds, and courage to con thee. front accusers: not, with a coward's fear, to Stuke. Yet know, proud woman, I have a heart as stubborn as your own! as haughty and imperious: and as it lo loves, so can it hate. [Aloud, and in confusion. Mrs. B. Mean, despicable villain! I scorn Lew. By heaven he dies that interrupts us! thee, and thy threats. Was it for this that [Shutting the Door] You should have weighBeverley was false?-that his too credulous ed your strength, sir; and then, instead of wife should, in despair and vengeance, give climbing to high fortune, the world had marked up her honour to a wretch? But he shall you for what you are a little, paltry villain! know it, and vengeance shall be his. Stuke. Why, send him for defiance thenTell him I love his wife; but that a worthless busband forbids our union. I'll make a widow of you, and court you honourably. Mrs. B. 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 be gone. [Rings a Bell. Enter LUCY. Your absence, sir, would please me. [Exit with Lucy. Mrs. B. Why opens not the earth, to swallow such a monster? Be conscience then a 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 wretch! [Flings him from him] The vilest insect in creation will turn when trampled tran 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 shown 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. Lew. Infamous coward! why, take it now then-[Draws, and Stukely retires] Alas, I and not Beverley, that left you-I heard him pity thee!-Yet, that a wretch like this should loud-You seem alarmed too. Stuke. Ay, and with reason-We are dis overcome a Beverley! It fills me with astonishment!-A wretch, so mean of soul, that covered. even desperation cannot animate him to look Bates. I feared as much, and therefore cauupon an enemy. You should not have thus tioned you; but you were peremptory. soared, sir, unless, like others of your black Stuke. Thus fools talk ever; spending their profession, you had a sword to keep eep the fools idle breath on what is past, and trembling at in awe your villany has ruined. the future. We must be active; Beverley, at Stuke. Villany! Twere best to curb this worst, is but suspicious; but Lewson's genius, license of your tongue-for know, sir, while and his hate to me, will lay all open. Means there are laws, this outrage on my reputation must be found to stop him. will not be borne with. Bates. What means? Lew. Laws! Dar'st thou seek shelter from Stuke. Dispatch him-Nay, start not-Desthe laws-those laws which thou and thy in-perate occasions call for desperate deeds-VVe fernal crew live in the constant violation of? live but by his death. Talk'st thou of reputation too, when, under friendship's sacred name, thou hast betrayed, robbed, and destroyed? [Going. Bates. You cannot mean it? Stuke. I do, by heaven! Bates. Good night, then. Stuke. Ay, rail at gaming-'tis a rich topic, Stuke. Stay-I must be heard, then answerand affords noble declamation.-Go preach ed.-Perhaps the motion was too sudden; and against it in the city-you'll find a congrega- human weakness starts at murder, though tion in every tavern. If they should laugh at strong necessity compels it. I have thought you, fly to my lord, and sermonize it there: long of this, and my first feelings were like he'll thank you, and reform. yours; a foolish conscience awed me, which Lew. And will example sanctify a vice? No, soon I conquered. The man that would undo wretch; the custom of my lord, or of the cit me, nature cries out, undo. Brutes know their that apes him, cannot excuse a breach of law, foes by instinct; and, where superior force is or make the gamester's calling reputable. given, they use it for destruction. Shall man Stuke. Rail on, I say-But is this zeal for do less? Lewson pursues us to our ruin! and beggared Beverley? Is it for him that I am shall we, with the means to crush him, fly treated thus? No; he and his wife might both from our hunter, or turn and tear him? 'Tís have groaned in prison, had but the sister's folly even to hesitate. fortune escaped the wreck, to have rewarded Bates. He has obliged me, and I dare not. the disinterested love of honest Mr. Lewson. Stuke. Why, live to shame then-to beggary Lew. How I detest thee for the thought! and punishment. You would be privy to the But thou art lost to every human feeling. Yet, deed, yet want the soul to act it.-Nay more, let me tell thee, and may it wring thy heart, had my designs been levelled at his fortune, that, though my friend is ruined by thy you had stepped in the foremost-And what is snares, thou hast, unknowingly, been kind to life without its comforts? -Those you would rob him of, and by a lingering death add Stuke. Have I? It was, indeed, unknowingly. cruelty to murder. Henceforth, adieu to halfLew. Thou hast assisted me in love-given made villains-There's danger in them. What me the merit that I wanted; since, but for you have got is yours-keep it, and hide with thee, my Charlotte had not known 'twas her it-I'll deal my future bounty to those that dear self I sighed for, and not her fortune. me. Stuke. Thank me, and take her then. Lew. And, as a brother to poor Beverley, I will pursue the robber that has stripped him, it, and will be just. 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 merit it. Bates. What's the reward? Stuke. Equal division of our gains. I swear Butes. 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. that has supplied him shall fall and crush him. Bates. He sleeps no more. Lew. Why, now there's a spirit in thee! Stuke. Consider the reward. When the This is, indeed, to be a villain! But I shall deed's done I have other business with you. reach thee yet-Fly where thou wilt, my ven- Send Dawson to me. geance shall pursue thee-And Beverley shall Bates. Think it already done-and so, fareyet be saved-be saved from thee, thou mon- well. [Exit. ster! nor owe his rescue to his wife's dis- Stuke. Why farewell, Lewson, then; and honour. [Exit. farewell to my fears. This night secures me Stuke. [Pausing] Then ruin has enclosed - I'll wait the event within. [Exit. me!-Curse on my coward heart! I would be bravely villainous; but 'tis my nature to SCENE II.-The Street.-Stage darkened. shrink at danger, and he has found me. Yet Enter BEVERLEY. fear brings caution, and that security-More Beo. How like an outcast do I wander! mischief must be done to hide the past-Look Loaded with every curse that drives the soul to yourself, officious Lewson - there may be to desperation! The midnight robber, as he danger stirring-How now, Bates? Enter BATES. walks his rounds, sees, by the glimmering lamp, my frantic looks, and dreads to meet Whither am I going? My home lies me. Bates. What is the matter? Twas Lewson, there; all that is dear on earth it holds too; |