yet are the gates of death more welcome to sciousness of guilt, than the world's just reme-Fil enter it no more-Who passes there? proofs! But 'tis the fashion of the times; and Tis Lewson-He meets me in a gloomy hour; in defence of falsehood and false honour, men and memory tells me he has been meddling die martyrs. I knew not that my nature was with my fame. Enter LEWSON. Lew. Beverley! well met. I have been busy in your affairs. Bev. So I have heard, sir: and now I must thank you as I ought. Lew. To-morrow I may deserve your thanks. -Late as it is I go to Bates. - Discoveries are making that an arch villain trembles at. so bad. [Stands musing. Enter BATES and JARVIS. Jar. This way the noise was; and yonder's my poor master. Bates. I heard him at high words with Lewson. 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. [Starting] What fellow's that? [Seeing Jarvis] Art thou a murderer, friend? Bee. Discoveries are made, sir, that you shall tremble at. Where is this boasted spirit, this high demeanour, that was to call me to ac- Come, lead the way-I have a hand as miscount? You say I have wronged my sister-chievous as thine; a heart as desperate tooNow say as much. But, first be ready for Jarvis! to bed, old man-the cold will chill defence, as I am for resentment. [Draws. thee. Lew. What mean you? I understand you Jar. Why are you wandering at this late DOL Bee. The coward's stale acquittance! who, when he spreads foul calumny abroad, and dreads just vengeance on him, cries out, "What mean you? I understand you not." Lew. Coward and calumny? Whence are those words? But I forgive and pity you. Bev. Your pity had been kinder to my fame: But you have traduced it-told a vile story to the public ear, that I have wronged my sister. Lew. 'Tis false! Show me the man that dares accuse me. Bee. I thought you brave, and of a soul superior to low malice; but I have found you, and will have vengeance. This is no place for argument. Lew. Nor shall it be for violence. Impruice.-Imprudent 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. hour? Your sword drawn too? For heaven's [Wildly. 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 bless'd that's near me. Jar. I came to seek you, sir. Jar. Such thoughts are best disturbed, Jar. My weeping mistress. -Alas, sir, forget your griefs, and let me lead you to her! The streets are dangerous. Bev. Be wise, and leave me then. The night's black horrors are suited to my thoughts Bev. Yes; for the slanderer of my famewho, under show of friendship, arraigns me - These stones shall be my resting-place. of injustice; buzzing in every ear foul breach [Throws himself on the Ground] Here shall of trust, and family dishonour. my soul brood o'er its miseries; till, with the Lew. Have I done this? Who told you so? fiends of hell and guilty of the earth, I start Bev. The world-'Tis talked of every where. and tremble at the morning's light. -It pleased you to add threats too-You were Jar. Let patience, not despair, possess you to call me to account-Why, do it now then; -Rise, I beseech th you-There's not a moment I should 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. of your absence that my poor mistress does not mourn for. Bev. Have I undone her, and is she still so kind? [Starting up] It is too much-My brain can't hold it.-Oh, Jarvis, how desperate is that wretch's state, which only death or madness can relieve! Bee. What aims? I'll not conceal it-'twas Stukely that accused you. Lew. To rid him of an enemy-Perhaps of Jar. Appease his mind, good heaven, and two-He fears discovery, and frames a tale of give him resignation! Alas, sir, could beings falsehood, to ground revenge and murder on. in the other world perceive the events of this, Bee. I must have proof of this. Low. Wait till to-morrow then. Bee. I will. how would your parents' blessed spirits grieve for you, even in heaven!-Let me conjure you, by their honoured memories-by the sweet in Low. Good night-I go to serve you-Forget nocence of your yet helpless child, and by what's past, as I do; and cheer your family the ceaseless sorrows of my poor mistress, to with smiles-To-morrow may confirm them, rouse your manhood and struggle with these and make all happy. [Exit. griefs! Bev. [Pausing] How vile and how absurd Beo. Thou virtuous, good, old man! Thy is man! His boasted honour is but another tears and thy entreaties have reached my heart, name for pride, which easier bears the con- through all its miseries. Jar. Be but resigned, sir, and happiness enough last night. The thought of him is hormay yet be yours. Hark! I hear voices rible to me. Come this way: we may reach home unnoticed. Stuke. In the street did you say? and no Bev. Unnoticed didst thou say? Alas! Idread one near him. no looks but of those wretches I have made Bates. By his own door; he was leading at home. Oh, had I listened to thy honest me to his house. I pretended business with warnings, no earthly blessing had been want-him, and stabbed him to the heart, while he ing to me; but I have warred against the power was reaching at the bell. that blest me, and now am sentenced to the SCENE III. STUKELY'S Lodgings. Stuke. And did he fall so suddenly? Bates. The repetition pleases you, I see I told you he fell without a groan. Stuke. Come hither, Dawson; my limbs are rounds, and alarmed the servants. I mingled on the rack, and my soul shivers in me, till with the crowd just now, and saw him dead this night's business be complete.-Tell me thy in his own house. -The sight terrified me. thoughts; is Bates determined, or does he waver? Stuke. Away with terrors, till his ghost rise Daw. At first he seemed irresolute! - wished and accuse us. We have no living enemy to the employment had been mine; and muttered fear unless 'tis Beverley; and him we have curses on his coward hand, that trembled at lodged safe in prison. the deed. Stuke. And did he leave you so? Bates. Must he be murdered too? Stuke. No; I have a scheme to make the Daw. No; we walked together, and, shel-law his murderer. At what hour did Lewson fall? tered by the darkness, saw Beverley and Lew- Bates. The clock struck twelve as I turned son in warm debate; but soon they cooled, to leave him-'Twas a melancholy bell, I thought, and then I left them to hasten hither; but not till 'twas resolved Lewson should die. Stuke. Thy words have given me life. That 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. ringing for his death. Stuke. The time was lucky for us-Beverley was arrested at one, you say? [To Dawson. Daw. Exactly. Stuke. 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 Stuke. But my prolific brain shall make them enemies. If Lewson falls he falls by Beverley too busy. - 'Tis well you have a heart of stone; -Ask me no question, but do as I direct. the tale would melt it else. This writ [Takes out a Pocket-book] for some Stuke. Out with it then. days past I have treasured here, till a conve Daw. I traced him to his lodgings; and nient time called for its use-That time is come; pretending pity for his misfortunes, kept the take it, and give it to an officer-It must be door open while the officers seized him. 'Twas [Gives a Paper. a damned deed!-but no matter-I followed served this instant. Daw. On Beverley? Stuke. Look at it. It is for the sums that I have lent him. Daw. Must he to prison then? Stuke. I ask obedience, not replies. This night a gaol 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 payment. my instructions. Daw. He upbraided me with treachery, called you a villain, acknowledged the sums you had lent him, and submitted to his fortune. Stuke. And the women Daw. For a few minutes astonishment kept them silent. They looked wildly at one another, while the tears streamed down their cheeks. But rage and fury soon gave them Stuke. Dull and insensible! If Lewson dies, words; and then, in the very bitterness of who was it killed him? Why, he that was despair, they cursed me, and the monster that seen quarrelling with him: and I, that knew had employed me. of Beverley's intents, arrested him in friendship -A little late, perhaps; but 'twas a virtuous act, and men will thank me for it. Now, sir, you understand me? Daw. Most perfectly; and will about it. Stuke. And you bore it with philosophy? Daw. Till the scene changed, and then I melted. I ordered the officers to take away their prisoner. The women shrieked, and would have followed him; but we forbade them. 'Twas ed, the sister raving, and both, with all the Daw. Till then, farewell. [Exit. eloquence of misery, endeavouring to soften Stuke. Now tell thy tale, fond wife! And, us. I never felt compassion till that moment; Lewson, if again thou canst insult me! and, bad the officers been moved like me, we Not avarice now, but vengeance, fires my had left the business undone, and fled with breast; curses on ourselves. But their hearts were And one short hour must make me curs'd steeled by custom. The sighs of beauty, and [Exit. the pangs of affection, were beneath their pity. They tore him from their arms, and lodged him in prison, with only Jarvis to comfort him. Stuke. There let him lie, till we have further business with him-But how to proceed will Stuke. Haste, then; and when 'tis done, come then they fell upon their knees, the wife faintback and tell me. or bless'd. ACT V. SCENE I. --STUKELY'S Lodgings. Enter STUKELY, BATES, and Dawson. Bates. Poor Lewson! But I told you require time and thought.--Come along with me: the room within is fitted for privacy- deliberately, and the result is death! How the But no compassion, sir. [To Dawson]-We self-murderer's account may stand I know not. want leisure for't-This way. [Exeunt. But this I know the load of hateful life op SCENE II-BEVERLEY'S Lodgings. not what has happened. presses 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 si Mrs. B. The clock strikes eight-I'll wait no lence thee. [Takes a a Phial out of his Pocket, longer. Oh, what a night was last night! I and looks at it] Thou art most friendly to would not pass another such to purchase worlds the miserable. Come then, thou cordial for by it-My poor Beverley too! What must he sick minds-Come to my heart. [Drinks] Oh, have felt?-The very thought distracts me! - that the grave would bury memory as well as To have him torn at midnight from me! A body! For if the soul sees and feels the sufloathsome prison his habitation. A cold, damp ferings of those dear ones it leaves behind, room his lodging! The bleak winds, perhaps, the Everlasting has no vengeance to torment blowing upon his pillow! No fond wife to full it deeper-I'll think no more on't-Reflection him to his rest! and no reflections but to comes too late-Once there was a time for't wound and tear him!-"Tis too horrible!-I -but now 'tis past. - Who's there? wanted love for him, or they had not forced him from me. They should have parted soul and body first-I was too tame. Enter JARVIS. Jar. One that hoped to see you with better Char. You must not talk so. All that we looks-Why do you turn so from me? I have could we did; and Jarvis did the rest-The brought comfort with me. And see who comes faithful creature will give him comfort. See to give it welcome! where he comes! His looks are cheerful too! Enter JARVIS. Mrs. B. Are tears then cheerful! Alas, he weeps! Speak to him, Charlotte. Char. How does your master, Jarvis? Bev. My wife and sister! Why 'tis but one pang more then, and farewell, world! [Aside. Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE. Mrs. B. Where is he? [Runs and em Jar. I am old and foolish, madam; and braces him] Oh, I have him! I have him! tears will come before my words-But don't you weep; [To Mrs. Beverley] I have a tale of joy for you. Mrs. B. Say but he's well, and I have joy enough. Jar. All shall be well-I have news for him, that will 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. Your uncle, madam, died yesterday. Jar. His steward came express, madam-I met him in the street, inquiring for your lodgmgs-I should not rejoice, perhaps-but he was eid, and my poor master a prisoner-Now he shall live again-Ob, 'tis a brave fortune! and was death to me to see him a prisoner. Char. How did he pass the night, Jarvis? Jar. Like a man dreaming of death and Horrors When they led him to his cell, he fiung himself upoma wretched bed, and lay speechless till day-break. I spoke to him, but be would not hear me; and when I persisted, be raised his hand at me, and knit his brow so-I thought he would have struck me. I bud him be of comfort-Be gone, old wretch, says he-My wife! my child! my sister! I have undone them all, and will know no comfort! Isen, falling upon his knees, he imprecated curses upon himself. And now they shall never part us more-I Bev. This is a sad place! Mrs. B. We come to take you from itto tell you the world goes well again - that Providence has seen our sorrows, and sent the means to help them-Your uncle died yesterday. Beo. My uncle!-No, do not say so!-Oh, 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. Beo. 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 I 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. Not an old man's death. Yet, if it troubles you, I wish him living. Bee, And I, with all my heart. For I have Mrs. B. This is too horrible! But we have staid too long. Let us haste to comfort him, a tale to tell that shall turn you into stone; or, or die with him. [Exeunt. if the power of speech remain, you shall kneel SCENE III.-A Prison. BEVERLEY is discovered sitting. Bee. Why there's an end then; I have judged down and curse me. Mrs. B. Alas! and why are we to curse you? I'll bless you for ever. Bee. No; I have deserved no blessings. The 1 Mrs B. Then hear me, heaven! [Kneels] Look down with mercy on his sorrows! Give softness to his looks, and quiet to his heart! Take from his memory the sense of what is past, and cure him of despair! On me, on me, if misery must be the lot of either, multiply misfortunes! I'll bear them patiently, so he is 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. Beo. 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? Jar. Ask him no questions, madam-This last misfortune has hurt his brain. A little time will give him patience. Enter STUKELY. Bev. Why is this villain here! Stuke. To give you liberty and safety. There, madam, is his discharge. [Giving a Paper to Mrs. Beverley.] The arrest last night was meant in friendship, but came too late. Char. What mean you, sir? Stuke. 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? Stuke. From Lewson's blood. Char. No, villain! Yet what of Lewson? Bates. The news, I see, has reached you. But take comfort, madam. [To Charlotte] There's one without inquiring for you.-Go to him, and lose no time. Stuke. Rather let him fly. His evidence may crush his master. Beo. Why ay; this looks like management. Bates. He found you quarrelling with Lewson in the streets last night. [To Beverley. Mrs. B. No; I am sure he did not. Mrs. B. 'Tis false, old man-They had no quarrel; there was no cause for quarrel. Bev. Let him proceed, I say-Oh! I am sick! sick!- Reach a chair. [He sits down. Mrs. B. If Lewson's dead, you killed him not. Enter DAWSON. Stuke. Who sent for Dawson? Bates. Twas I-We have a witness too you little think of-without there! Stuke. What witness? Bates. A right one. Look at him. Enter LEWSON and CHARLOTTE. Stuke. 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's 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! [Pointing 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 gave 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. How does my friend? To Beverley. Bec. Why, well. Who's he that asks me? Mrs. B. 'Tis Lewson, love-Why do you look so at him? Bev. They told me he was murdered. [Wildly. Mrs. B. Ay; but he lives to save us. Bec. Lend me your hand-The room turns round. Lew. This villain here disturbs him. Remove. him from his sight-And, for your lives, see that you guard him. [Stukely is taken off by Dawson and Bates] How is it, sir? Beo. 'Tis here-and here. [Pointing to his Head and Heart] And now it tears me. Mrs. B. You feel convulsed too-What is't disturbs you? Char. O misery! misery! [Exit. Mrs. B. Follow her, Jarvis. If it be true that Lewson's dead, her grief may kill her. Bates. Jarvis must stay here, madam. I Heart] Down to your native hell-There you have some questions for him. Bev. A furnace rages in this heart-Down, restless flames! [Laying his Hand on his shall rack me-Oh! for a pause from pain! Where's my wife? - Can you forgive me, love? Mrs. B. Restore him, heaven! Oh, save him! Mrs. B. Alas! for what? save him! or let me die too. Bev. For meanly dying. Mrs. B. No-do not say it. Beo. No; live, I charge you. - We have a little one. Though I have left him, you will Bee. As truly as my soul must answer it- not leave him. To Lewson's kindness I beHad Jarvis staid this morning all had been queath him. Is not this Charlotte?-We have well. But, pressed by shame-pent in a prison lived in love, though I have wronged you.-tormented with my pangs for you-driven Can you forgive me, Charlotte? to despair and madness-I took the advantage of his absence, corrupted the poor wretch he left to guard me, and swallowed poison. Lev. Oh, fatal deed! Char. Dreadful and cruel! Bee. Ay, most accursed-And now I go to my account. Bend me, and let me kneel. [Kneels.] 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 dooms me, here I acquit the sentence; but if, Char. Forgive you! Oh, my poor brother! Bev. Oh! 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 hereafter, my bosom-pang is for your miseries! Support her, heaven!-And now I goOh, mercy! mercy! Lew. How is it, madam? [Dies. Char. Her grief is speechless. Lew. Remove her from this sight-lead and support her-Some ministering angel bring her enthroned in mercy where thou sittest, thy peace! [Charlotte leads her off And thou, pity has beheld me, send me a gleam of hope, poor, breathless corpse, may thy departed soul that in these last and bitter moments my soul have found the rest it prayed for! Save but may taste of comfort! and for these mourners one error, and this last fatal deed, thy life was here, oh! let their lives be peaceful, and their lovely. Let frailer minds take warning; and deaths happy! from example learn, that want of prudence is [Exit. [They lift him to the Chair. want of virtue. THOMAS OTWAY, Was not more remarkable for moving the tender passions, than for the variety of fortune to which he himself was sabrected. He was the son of the Rev. Mr. Humphrey Otway, rector of Wolbeding, in Sussex, and was born at Trole in that county, the 5d of March in the year 1651. He received his education at Wickeham school, near Winchester, and became a commoner of Christ Church, in Oxford, in 1669. But on his quitting the university, in 1670, and coming to London, he turned player. His success as an actor was but indifferent, having made only one attempt is Mrs. Behn's tragedy of The Forc'd Marriage; or, Jealous Bridegroom; he was more valued for the sprightliness of tis conversation and the acuteness of his wit; which gained him the friendship of the Earl of Plymouth, who procared tim a cornet's, commission in the troops which then served in Flanders. At his return from Flanders he gave aphs commission and had recourse to writing for the stage; and now it was that he found out the only employment that nature seems to have fitted him for. In comedy he has been deemed to licentious; which, however, was grrat oljection to those who lived in the profligate days of Charles 11. But in tragedy few of our English poets evre united him; and perhaps none ever excelled him in touching the passions, particularly that of love. There is gomotally something familiar and domestic in the fable of his tragedy, and there is amazing energy in his expression Otway possessed, in so eminent a degree, the rare talent of writing to the heart, yet he was not very fameat, regarded by some of his contemporary poets; nor was he always successful in his dramatic compositions. Afrepriencing many reverses of fortune, in regard to his circumstances, but generally changing for the worse, he at wded wretchedly in a house, known by the sign of a Bull, on Tower Hill, April 14, 1685. whither he had retired ba ar is the pressure of his creditors. Some have said, that downright hunger compelling him to fall too eagerly upon wew of bread, of which he had been some time in want, the first mouthful choked him, and instantly put a period abadays, VENICE PRESERVED. ACTED at the Duke's Theatre, 1689. This interesting tragedy is borrowed, with respect to the plan of it at least, the book that relates the circumstances of the Spanish conspiracy at Venice, i, e. the Abbé de St. Real's HisLa Conjuration du Marquis de Badamar. The speech of Renault to the conspirators is translated word for this author. It has been remarked, that though, on the whole, the incidents of Otway's piece are interesting, catastrophe affecting, there is not one truly valuable character in the whole drama, except that of Belvidera. however, we cannot entirely subscribe. The character of Pierre is nobly drawn. His public services had been d with ingratitude, and he was a greatly injured character; but was justly punished for taking a treasonable de of redressing his wrongs. The scene lies in Venice. By comparing this with The Orphan, it will appear that magra were by time become stronger, and his language more energetic. The public seems to judge rightly of the sasi cxcellencies of this play; that it is the work of a man not attentive to decency, nor zealous for virtue, but of was conceived forcibly, and drew originally, by consulting nature in his own breast, Mr. Dryden says, "the mowhich are studied are never so natural as those which break out in the height of a real passion. Mr. Otway this part as thoroughly as any of the ancients or moderns. I will not defend every thing in his Venice Prewed but I must bear this testimony to his memory, that the passions are truly touched in it, though perhaps there what to be desired, both in the grounds of them, and in the height and elegance of expression; but nature is whore, which is the greatest beauty." |