SCENE I.

Enter Mrs BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE. Mrs Bev. Be comforted, my dear; all may be well yet. And now, methinks, the lodging begins to look with another face. Oh, sister! sister! if these were all my hardships; if all I had to complain of were no more than quitting my house, servants, equipage, and shew, your pity would be weakness.

Char. Is poverty nothing, then?

Mrs Bev. Nothing in the world, if it affected only me. While we had a fortune, I was the happiest of the rich and now it is gone, give me but a bare subsistence, and my husband's smiles, and I'll be the happiest of the poor. To me, now, these lodgings want nothing but their mas ter. Why do you look at me?

-Oh, this

Char. That I may hate my brother. Mrs Bev. Do not talk so, Charlotte. Char. Has he not undone you?pernicious vice of gaming! But, methinks his usual hours of four or five in the morning might have contented him; it was misery enough to wake for him till then. Need he have staid out all night?—I shall learn to detest him.

Mrs Bev. Not for the first fault. He never slept from me before.

Char. Slept from you! No, no, his nights have nothing to do with sleep. How has this one vice driven him from every virtue !-Nay, from his affections, too!- -The time was, sister

Mrs Bev. And is. I have no fear of his affections. Would I knew, that he were safe! Char. From ruin and his companions. But that is impossible. His poor little boy, too! What must become of him?

Mrs Bev. Why, want shall teach him industry. From his father's mistakes he shall learn prudence, and, from his mother's resignation, patience. Poverty has no such terrors in it as you imagine. There is no condition of life, sickness 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 Bev. 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?
Char. To support a sister.

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 po verty; and the loss of another fortune would but increase his shame and affliction. Will Mr Lew son 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

nest.

Char. He would fain be thought so; therefore I doubt him. Honesty needs no pains to set itself off.

Enter LUCY.

Mrs Bev. What now, Lucy?

Lucy. Your old steward, madam. I had not the heart to deny him admittance, the good old man begged so hard for it, [Exit LUCY.

Enter JARVIS. Mrs Bev. Is this well, Jarvis? I desired you to avoid me.

me.

Jar. Did you, madam? I am an old man, and had forgot. Perhaps, too, you forbad my tears; but I am old, madam, and age will be forgetful. Mrs Bev. The faithful creature! how he moves [To CHARLOTTE. Char. Not to have seen him had been cruelty. Jar. I have forgot these apartments too. I remember none such in my young master's house; and yet I have lived in it these five and twenty years. His good father would not have dismissed

mre.

cannot.

Char. When I have wiped my eyes.

Jar. I have a little money, madam; it might have been more, but I have loved the poor. All that I have is yours.

Mrs Ben. No, Jarvis; we have enough yet. I thank you, though, and will deserve your goodness. Jar. But shall I see my master? And will he let me attend him in his distresses? I'll be no expence to him; and it will kill me to be refused. Where is he, madam?

Mrs Bev. Not at home, Jarvis. You shall see him another time.

Char. To-morrow, or the next day—Oh, Jarvis! what a change is here!

But here's

Jar. A change indeed, madam! my old heart aches at it. And yet, methinkssomebody coming.

Enter LUCY with STUKELY. Lucy. Mr Stukely, madam. [Erit. 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 Bed. No. Were you not together? Stuke. At the beginning of the evening; but not since. Where can he have staid?

Char. You call yourself his friend, sir; why do you encourage him in this madness of gaming? Stuke. You have asked me that question before, madam; and I told you my concern was, that I could not save him. Mr Beverley is a 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?

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 believe. Jar. Shall I go, madam?

Mrs Bev. No, he may take it ill.
Char. He may go as from himself.

Stuke. And, if he pleases, madam, without naming me. I am faulty myself, and should conceal the errors of a friend. But I can refuse nothing here. [Bowing to the ladies. 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 Bev. 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?

Mrs Beo. 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 him. The world is full of slander; and every wretch, that knows himself unjust, charges his neighbour with like passions; and by the general frailty hides his own- -If you are wise, and would be happy, turn a deaf ear to such reports. It is ruin to believe them.

Mrs Bev. Ay, worse than ruin. It would be to sin against conviction. Why was it mentioned?

The

Stuke. To guard you against rumour. 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?

self. 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 generous 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.

Mrs Bev. Not painful in the least. My pain 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 CHAR.

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 CHAR. and exit with Mrs BEV. 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 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 yetHis 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 wife—Before 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 much-He shall demand them of her; which, when mine, shall be converted to special purposes-What now, Bates?

Enter BATES.

Bates. Is it a wonder, then, to see me? The forces are all in readiness, and only wait for or ders. Where's Beverley?

me.

Stuke. At last night's rendezvous, waiting for
Is Dawson with you?

Bates. Dressed like a nobleman; with money in his pocket, and a set of dice, that shall deceive the devil.

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.

Bates. No matter for manners and looks. Do you supply them with money, and they are gentlemen by profession-The 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 him money, and they stare at me. But they are fools. I want him to believe me beggared by him. 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 dispatched to him.

Bates. And may intreat him home—

Stuke. No; he expects money from me; but I'll have none. His wife's jewels must goWomen 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 bu siness for you presently. Come, sir,

Let drudging fools by honesty grow great;
The shorter road to riches is deceit. [Exeunt.

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 delight-Oh, bitter thought, that leads to what I was by what I am! I would forget both-Who's there?

Bev. No. Think'st thou I would ruin thee too! I have enough of shame already-My wife, my wife! Wouldst thou believe it, Jarvis? I have not seen her all this long night————I, who have loved her so, that every hour of absence seemed as a gap in life. But other bonds have held me-Oh, I have played the boy! dropping my counters in the stream, and, reaching to redeem them, lost myself. Why wilt thou follow misery? Or if thou wilt, go to thy mistress: she has no guilt to sting her; and therefore may be comforted.

Jar. 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.