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accuse me.

Dawson to me.

sity compels it. I have thought long of this; and high demeanour, that was to call me to account? my first feelings were like yours; a foolish con- You say I have wronged my sister-Now say science awed me, which I soon conquered. The as much. But first be ready for defence, as I am man, that would undo me, Nature cries out, un- for resentment.

[Draws. do. Brutes know their foes by instinct; and Lew. What mean you? I understand you not. where superior force is given, they use it for de- Bev. The coward's stale acquittance! who, struction. Shall man do less ? Lewson pursues when he spreads foul calumny abroad, and dreada us to our ruin; and shall we, with the means to just vengeance on him, cries out, “What mean crush him, fly from our hunter, or turn and tear you? I understand you not.' him? It is folly even to hesitate.

Lew. Coward and calumny! Whence are Bates. He has obliged me, and I dare not. those words ? But I forgive, and pity you.

Stuke. Why, live to shame then, to beggary Bco. Your pity had been kinder to my fame. and punishment. You would be privy to the But you have traduced it; told a vile story to the deed, yet want the soul to act it. Nay, more, had public ear, that I have wronged my sister. my designs been levelled at his fortune, you had Lex. 'Tis false. Shew me the man, that dares stepped in the foremost And what is life without its comforts? Those you would rob him Bev. I thought you brave, and of a soul supe: of, and, by a lingering death, add cruelty to mur- rior to low malice; but I have found you, and der. Henceforth, adieu to half-made villains will have vengeance. This is no place for arguThere is danger in them. What you have got is ment. Fours; keep it, and hide with it - I will deal Lew. Nor shall it be for violence. Imprudent my future bounty to those that merit it.

man! who, in revenge for fancied injuries, would Bates. What is the reward?

pierce the heart that loves him. But honest Stuke. Equal division of our gains. I swear it, friendship acts from itself, unmoved by slander and will be just.

or ingratitude. The life you thirst for, shall be Bates. Think of the means then.

employed to serve you. Sluke. He is gone to Beverley’s

-Wait for Bev. 'Tis thus you would compound thenhim in the street-It is a dark night, and fit for First, do a wrong beyond forgiveness, and, to reinischief. A dagger would be useful.

dress it, load me with kindnesses unsolicited.Bates. He sleeps no more.

I'll not receive it. Your zeal is troublesome. Stuke. Consider the reward. When the deed Lew. No matter. It shall be useful. is done, I have farther business with you. Send Bev. It will not be accepted.

Lew. It must. You know me not. Butes. Think it already done and so, fare- Bev. Yes, for the slanderer of my fame; who, well.

(Erit. under shew of friendship, arraigns me of injusStuke. Why, farewell Lewson, then; and fare- tice; buzzing in every ear foul breach of trust, well to my fears. This night secures me. I will and family dishonour. wait the event within. (Exit. Lew. Have I done this? Who told you so

?

Bev. The world—'Tis talked of every where. SCENE III.-Changes to the Street. Stage It pleased you to add threats too. You were to darkened.

call me to account-Why, do it now, then: I

shall be proud of such an arbiter. Enter BEVERLEY.

Lew. Put up your sword, and know me betBev. How like an out-cast do I wander? ter. I never injured you. The base suggestion Loaded with every curse, that drives the soul to comes from Stukely: I see him and his aims. desperation The midnight robber, as he walks Ber. What aims? I'll not conceal it ; 'twas his rounds, sees, by the glimmering lamp, my Stukely that accused you. frantic looks, and dreads to meet me.

Whither Lew. To rid him of an enemy_Perhaps of an I going? My home lies there; all that is dear two-He fears discovery, and frames a tale of on carth it holds too; yet are the gates of death falsehood, to ground revenge and murder on. more welcome to me. I will enter it no more- Bev. I must have proof of this. Who passes there? It is Lewson-He meets me Lew. Wait till to-morrow, then. in a gloomy hour; and memory tells me he has Bev. I will. been meddling with my fame.

Lew. Good-night-I go to serve you-For

get what is past, as I do; and cheer your family Enter LEWSON.

with smiles. To-morrow may confirm them, and Lew. Beverley! Well met. I have been busy make all happy.

[Erit.

Beo. (Pausing.) How vile, and how absurd is Bev

. So I have heard, sir ; and now must thank man! His boasted honour is but another name you as I ought.

for pride, which easier bears the consciousness deserve your thunks. of guilt, than the world's just reproofs. But 'tis Late as it is, I go to Bates. Discoveries are ma- the fashion of the times ; and in defence of falseking that an arch-villain trembles at.

hood and false honour men die martyrs. I knew Ber. Discoveries are made, sir, that you shall not that my nature was so bad. trumble at Where is this boasted spirit, this

(Stands musinios

in your affairs.

me.

him resignation ! Alas, sir, could beings in the 'Enter BATES and JARVIS.

other world perceive the events of this, how Jar. This way the noise was; and yonder's my would your parents' blessed spirits grieve for poor master.

you even in heaven! Let me conjure you, by Bates. I heard him at high words with Lewson. their honoured memories; by the sweet innoThe cause I know not.

cence of your yet helpless child, and by the Jar. I heard him too. Misfortunes vex him. ceaseless sorrows of my poor mistress, to rouse

Bates. Go to him, and lead him home. But your manhood, and struggle with these griefs. he comes this way--I will not be seen by him. Beo. Thou virtuous, good old man! thy tears

[Exit. and thy entreaties have reached my heart, through Bev. (Starting.] What fellow's that! (Seeing all its miseries. JARVIS.] Art thou a murderer, friend? Come, lead Jar. Be but resigned, sir, and happiness may the way; I have a hand as mischievous as thine; yet be yours. a heart as desperate too-Jarvis !—To bed, old Bev. Prithee be honest, and do not flatter mi. man; the cold will chill thee.

sery. Jar. Why are you wandering at this late hour ? Jur. I do not, sir. Hark! I hear voices Your sword drawn too? For Heaven's sake, Come this way; we may reach home unnoticed. sheath it, sir— The sight distracts me.

Bev. Well, lead me then.-Unnoticed, didst Bev. Whose voice was that? Wildly.! thou say? Alas, I dread no looks but of those

Jar. 'Twas mine, sir. Let me intreat you to wretches I have made at home! O, had I lis. give the sword to me.

tened to thy honest warnings, no earthly blessing Bev. Ay, take it-quickly take it-Perhaps I had been wanting to me! I was so happy, that am not so cursed, but Heaven may have sent even a wish for more than I possessed, was arrothee at this moment to snatch me from perdi- gant presumption. But I have warred against the tion.

power that blessed me; and now am forced to Jar. Then I am blessed.

the hell I merit.

(Ercunt. Bev. Continue so, and leave me: my sorrows are contagious. No one is blessed that is near SCENE IV.-Changes to STUKELY's Lodgings. Jar. I came to seek you, sir.

Enter STUKELY and DAWSON. Bev. And now thou hast found me, leave me. Stuke. Come hither, Dawson. My limbs are My thoughts are wild, and will not be disturbed on the rack, and my soul shivers in me, till this Jar. Such thoughts are best disturbed. night's business be complete. Tell me thy

Bev. I tell thee that they will not. Who sent thoughts; is Bates determined, or does he was thee hither? Jar. My weeping mistress.

Daw. At first he seemed irresolute; wished Bev. Am I so meek a husband, then, that a the employment had been mine : and muttered commanding wife prescribes my hours, and sends curses on his coward hand, that trembled at the to chide me for my absence !- -Tell her I'll deed. not return.

Stuke. And did he leave you so ? Jar. Those words would kill her.

Daw. No; we walked together, and, sheltered Bev. Kill her! Would they not be kind, then? by the darkness, saw Beverley and Lewson in But she shall live to curse me I have deserved warm debate. But soon they cooled, and then it of her. Does she not hate me, Jarvis ? I left them to hasten hither; but not till it was

Jar. Alas, sir, forget your griefs, and let me resolved Lewson should die. lead you to her! The streets are dangerous. Stuke. Thy words have given me life. That

Bev. Be wise, and leave me then. The night's quarrel, too, was fortunate ; for, if my hopes do black horrors are suited to my thoughts- ceive me not, it promises a grave to Beverley. These stones shall be my resting place. (Lies Daw. You misconceive me. Lewson and he down.) Here shall my soul brood o'er its miseries,

were friends. till, with the fiends of hell, and guilty of the Stuke. But my prolific brain shall make them earth, I start and tremble at the morning's light. enemies. If Lewson falls, he falls by Beverley.

Jar. For pity's sake, sir-Upon my knees, I An upright jury shall decree it. Ask me no ques: beg you to quit this place, and these sad thoughts. tions; but do as I direct. This writ, [Takes pat Let patience, not despair, possess you—Rise, I a pocket-book.) for some days past, I have treabeseech you.There is not a moment of sured here till a convenient time called for its your absence, that my poor mistress does not That time is come. Take it, and give it

to an officer. It must be served this instant. Bev. Have I undone her, and is she still so

(Gives a pape. kind ? [Starting up.] It is too much-My brain Daw. On Beverley! çannot hold it-Oh, Jarvis, how desperate is that Stuke. Look at it. It is for the sums that I wretch's state, which only death or madness can have lent him. relieve !

Dane. Must he to prison, then ? Jar. Appease his mind, good Heaven, and give Stuke. I asked obedience, not replies. This

ver?

use.

groan for.

night a jail must be his lodgings. It is probable Daw. Most perfectly; and will about it. he is not gone home yet. Wait at his door, and Stuke. Haste, then; and when it is done, see it executed.

come back and tell me. Duw. Upon a beggar? -He has no means Dau. Till then, farewell.

(Erit. of payment.

Stuke. Now, tell thy tale, fond wife! And, Stuke. Dull and insensible ! If Lewson dies, Lewson, if again thou canst insult me, I will who was it killed him? Why, he that was kneel, and own thee for my master. seen quarrelling with him! and I, that knew of Not avarice now, but vengeance fires my Beverley's intents, arrested him in friendship breast, A little late, perhaps ; but 'twas a virtuous act, And one short hour must make me cursed or and men will thank me for it. Now, sir, you blessed,

(Erit. understand me?

ACT V.

me,

tom.

SCENE I.-Continues.

you a villain, acknowledged the sums you had

lent him, and submitted to his fortune. Enter STUKELEY, BATEs, and DAWSON.

Stuke. And the womenBates. Poor Lewson ! But I told you enough Dau. For a few minutes astonishment kept last night. The thought of him is horrible to them silent. They looked wildly at one another,

while the tears streamed down their cheeks. Stuke. In the strect, did you say? And no one

But rage and fury soon gave them words; and near him?

then, in the very bitterness of despair, they Bates. By his own door; he was leading me cursed me, and the monster that had employto his house. I pretended business with him, ed me. and stabbed him to the heart, while he was Stuke. And you bore it with philosophy? reaching at the bell.

Daw. 'Till the scene changed, and then I Stuke. And did he fall so suddenly?

melted. I ordered the officers to take away Bates. The repetition pleases you, I see. I their prisoner. The women shrieked, and would told you he fell without a groan.

have followed him: but we forbade them. It Stuke. What heard you of him this morning? was then they fell upon their knees, the wife Bates. That the watch found him in their fainted, the sister raving, and both, with all the rounds, and alarmed the servants. I mingled eloquence of misery, endeavouring to soften us. with the crowd just now, and saw him dead in I never felt compassion till that moment; and, his own house --The sight terrified me. had the officers been moved like me, we had left Stuke. Away with terrors, till his ghost rise the business undone, and fled with curses on ourand accuse us. We have no living enemy to selves. But their hearts were steeled by cusfear, unless it is Beverley; and him we have The tears of beauty, and the pangs of lodged safe in prison.

affection, were beneath their pity. They tore Bates. Must he be murdered too?

him from their arms, and lodged him in prison, Stuke. No; I have a scheme to make the law with only Jarvis to comfort him. his murderer. At what hour did Lewson fall? Stuke. There let him lie, till we have farther Bates

. The clock struck twelve as I turned to business with him. And for you, sir, let me hear leave him. 'Twas a melancholy bell, I thought, no more of your compassion —A fellow, nurtolling for his death.

sed in villany, and employed from childhood in Stuke. The time was lucky for us- -Bever- the business of hell, should have no dealings with ley was arrested at one, you say? [To Dawson. compassion.

Daw. Say you so, sir ? -You should have naSluke. Good. We'll talk of this presently. med the devil that tempted me The women were with him, I think?

Stuke. It is false; I found you a villain, and Daw. And old Jarvis. I would have told you therefore employed you :-But no more of this ; of them last night, but your thoughts were too we have embarked too far in mischief to recede. busy. It is well you have a heart of stone; the Lewson is dead, and we are all principals in his tale would melt it else.

murder. Think of that.-There is time enough Stuke. Out with it, then.

for pity, when ourselves are out of danger. BeDaw. I traced him to his lodgings ; and, pre- verley still lives, though in a jail. His

ruin will tending pity for his misfortunes, kept the door sit heavy on him; and discoveries may be made open, while the officers seized him. 'Twas a to undo us all. Something must be done, and damned deed—but no matter I followed

my speedily. You saw him quarrelling with Lewson in the street last night?

[To BATES. Stuke. And what said he?

Bates. I did; his steward, Jarvis, saw him too Daw. He upbraided me with treachery, called Stuke. And shall attest it. Here is matter to

Daw. Exactly.

instructions.

work upon. An unwilling evidence carries weight Char. How heard you of his death? with him. Something of my design I have hint- Jar. His steward came express, madam-I met ed to you before. Beverley must be the author him in the street, enquiring for your lodgingsof this murder; and we the parties to convict should not rejoice, perhaps ; but he was old, and him.-But how to proceed will require time and my poor master a prisoner. Now he shall live thought. Come along with me; the room with again. Oh, it is a brave fortune !-and it was in is fitted for privacy.—But no compassion, sir death to me to see him a prisoner. [To Dawson.)-We want leisure for it.- -This Char. Where left you the steward? way.

(Exeunt. Jur. I would not bring him hither, to be a wit

ness of your distresses; and besides, I wanted, SCENE II.-Changes to BEVERLEY's Lodgings. once before I die, to be the messenger of joy to Enter Mrs BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE.

you. My good master will be a man again!

Mrs Bev. Haste, haste then; and let us fly to Mrs Bev. No news of Lewson yet?

him! we are delaying our own happiness. Char. None. He went out early, and knows Jar. I had forgot a coach, madam, and Lucy not what has happened.

has ordered one. Mrs Bev. The clock strikes eight-I will Mrs Bev. Where was the need of that? The wait no longer.

news has given me wings. Char. Stay but till Jarvis comes. He has sent Char. I have no joy till my poor brother share twice to stop us till we see him.

it with me. How did he pass the night, Jarvis? ,Mrs Bev. I have no life in this separation- Jar. Why now, madam, I can tell you. Like Oh what a night was last night! I would not a man dreaming of death and horrors. When pass

another such to purchase worlds by it-My they led him to his cell--for it was a poor apartpoor Beverley too! What must he have felt ? - ment for my master-he flung himself upon a The very thought distracts me-To have him

wretched bed, and lay speechless till day-brent. torn at midnight from me! A loathsome prison A sigh, now and then, and a few tears, that folhis habitation! A cold damp room his lodging! lowed these sighs, were all that told me he was The bleak winds, perhaps, blowing upon his pil- alive. I spoke to him, but he would not hear me ; low! No fond wife to lull him to his rest! and and when I persisted, he raised his hand at me, no reflections but to wound and tear him! 'Tis and knit his brow so—I thought he would have too horrible---I wanted love for him, or they had struck me. not forced him from me.—They should have Mrs Bev. Oh, miserable! but what said he, parted soul and body first, I was too tame. Jarvis ? Or was he silent all night? Char. You must not talk so.

-All that we Jar. At day-break he started from the bed, could we did; and Jarvis did the rest—The faith- and, looking wildly at me, asked who I was. I ful creature will give him comfort. Why does told him, and bid him be of comfort.-Begone, he delay coming ?

old wretch, says he I have sworn never to know Mrs Bev. And there is another fear. His poor comfort. My wife! my child! my sister ! I master may be claiming the last kind office from have undone them all, and will know no comfort. him-His heart, perhaps, is breaking.

Then, falling upon his knees, he imprecated curses Char. See, where he comes-His looks are cheerful too.

Mrs Ber. This is too horrible ! But

you

did not leave him so? Enter JARVIS.

Char. No, I am sure he did not. Mrs Bev. Are tears then cheerful ? Alas, he Jar. I had not the heart, madam. By degrees weeps ! Speak to him, Charlotte- -I have no I brought him to himself. A shower of tears tongue to ask him questions.

came to his relief; and he called me his kindest Char. How does your master, Jarvis ? friend, and begged forgiveness of me like a child.

Jar. I am old and foolish, madam; and tears My heart throbbed so, I could not speak to hini. will come before my words.—But do not you He turned from me for a minute or two, and wecp [To Mrs Bev.] ; I have a tale of joy for suppressing a few bitter siglis, enquired after his you.

wretched family.-Wretched was his word, maAlrs Beo. What tale ?--Say but he is well, dam-Asked how you bore the misery of last and I have joy enough.

night—If you had the goodness to see him in Jur. His mind, too, shall be well-all shall be prison : and then begged me to hasten to you. I well—I have news for him, that will make his told him he must be more himself first.—He propoor heart bound again.

old

age- mised me he would; and, bating a few sudden How childish it makes me! I have a tale of joy intervals, he became composed and easy-And for my tears drown it.

then I left him; but not without an attendantChar. Shed them in showers, then, and make a servant in the prison, whom I hired to wait haste to tell it.

upon him. It is an hour since we parted. -Mirs Bev. What is it, Jarvis ?

was prevented, in my haste, to be the messenger Jar. Yet why should I rejoice, when a good of joy to you. man dies? Your uncle, madam, died yesterday. Xirs Biv. What a tale is this? But we have

Irs Bev. My uncle !--Oh, Ilcavens ! staid too long-a coach is needless.

upon himself!

Fie upon

you, and

seized you.

Char. Hark! I hear one at the door.

brought comfort with me. And see, who comes Jar. And Lucy comes to tell us—we will to give it welcome! away this moment.

Bev. My wife and sister! Why, 'tis but one Mrs Bev. To comfort him, or die with him. pang more, then, and farewell world. [Aside.

[Ereunt.

Enter Mrs BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE. SCENE III.Changes to STUKELY's Lodgings. Mrs Bev. Where is he? (Runs and embraces

him.] Oh, I have him! I have him! And now Enter STUKELY, Bates, and Dawson.

they shall never part us more, I have news, love, Stuke. Here's presumptive evidence at least- to make you happy for ever-but do not look or, if we want more, why we must swear more. coldly on me! But all unwillingly—we gain credit by reluctance. Char. How is it, brother? I have told you how to proceed. Beverley must Mrs Bev. Alas! he hears us not speak to die-we hunt him in view now, and must not me, love. I have no heart to see you thus. slacken in the chace. 'Tis either death for him, Bev. Nor I to bear the sense of so much shame or shame and punishment for us. Think of that, --this is a sad place! and remember your instructions-you, Bates, Mrs Bev. We came to take you from it. To must to the prison immediately. I would be tell you the world goes well again. That Provithere but a few minutes before you; and you, dence has seen our sorrows, and sent the means Dawson, must follow in a few minutes after. So to help them-your uncle died yesterday. here we divide-but answer me; are you resol- Bev. My uncle! No, do not say so! Oh, I am ved upon this business like men?

sick at heart! Bales. Like villains, rather-but you may de- Mrs Bev. Indeed! I meant to bring you compend upon us.

fort. Stuke. Like what we are, then you make no Beo. Tell me he lives then—if you would bring answer, Dawson—compassion, I suppose, has me comfort, tell me he lives.

Mrs Bev. And if I did- I have no power to Daw. No; I have disclaimed it-my answer raise the dead-he died yesterday. is Bates's-you may depend upon me.

Bed. And I am heir to him? Sluke. Consider the reward ! Riches and se- Jar. To his whole estate, sir-but bear it pacurity! I have sworn to divide with you to the tiently-pray bear it patiently. last shilling—so here we separate, till we meet Beo. Well, well-(l'ausing.) Why, fame says in prison-remember your instructions, and be I am rich, then?

[Ereunt. Mrs Bev. And truly som

-why do you look so

wildly? SCENE IV-Changes to a prison. BEVERLEY Bev. Do I? The news was unexpected. But

is discovered sitting. After u short pause, he has he left me all ? starts up, and comes forward.

Jar. All, all, sir-he could not leave it from

you. Bev. Why, there's an end, then; I have judged Beo. I am sorry for it. deliberately, and the result is death. How the Char. Sorry! Why sorry? self-murderer's account may stand, I know not. Beo. Your uncle's dead, Charlotte. But this I know the load of hateful life oppres- Char. Peace be with his soul then-is it so ses me too much-the horrors of my soul are terrible, that an old man should die? more than I can bear-(Offers to kneel.] Fa- Beo. He should have been immortal. ther of mercy! I cannot pray--Despair has laid Mrs Bev. Heaven knows I wished not for his his iron band upon me, and sealed me for perdi- death. 'Twas the will of Providence, that he tion-conscience ! conscience! thy clamours are should die—why are you disturbed so ? too loud-here's that shall silence thee. (Takes Bev. Has death no terrors in it? a phial out of his pocket, and looks at it.] Thou Mrs Bev. Not an old man's death. Yet if it art most friendly to the miserable. Come, then, troubles you, I wish him living. thou cordial for sick minds-come to my heart. Bed. And I, with all my heart. (Drinks.] Oh, that the grave would bury me- Char. Why, what's the matter ! mory as well as body! For, if the soul sees and Bev. Nothing—how heard you of his death? feels the sufferings of those dear ones it leaves Mrs Bev. His steward came express. Would behind, the Everlasting has no vengeance to tor- I had never known it! ment it deeper-I will think no more of it-re- Bev. Or had heard it one day sooner for I tection comes too late-once there was a time have a tale to tell, shall turn you into stone; or, for it-but now 'tis past. Who's there? if the power of speech remain, you shall kneel

down and curse me. Enter JARVIS.

Mrs Bev. Alas! what tale is this? And why Jar. One, that hoped to see you with better are we to curse you—I will bless you for ever. looks—why do you turn so from me? I have Ber. No; I have deserved no blessings. The

Inen.

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