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at the peril of the life of one of ys, and I am ready upon your own terms.

If this will not satisfy you, and you will make a lawless asault upon me, I will defend myself as against a rufian. There is no such terror, Mr. Myrtle, in the anger of those, who are quickly bot, and quickly cold again, they know not how, or why. I defy you to thew wherein I have wrong'd you.

Myrt. Mr. Bevil, it is easy for you to talk Irritatcoolly on this occasion. You who know not, I ING. suppose, what it is to love, and from your large fortune, and your specious outward carriage, have it in your power to come, without much trouble or anxiety, to the poljefsion of a woman of honour; you: know nothing of what it is to be alarmed, dis- JEALOUSY. tracted with the terror of losing what is dearer than life. You are happy. Your marriage goes SARCASM.

. , on like common business; and, in the interim, you have, for your soft moments of dalliance, your rambling captive, your Indian princess, your convenient, your ready Indiana.

Bev. You have touched me beyond the patience ANGER of a man; and the defence of Spotless innocence will, I hope, excuse my accepting your challenge, or at least my obliging you to retract your infamous aspersions. I will not, if I can avoid it, fosed your blocd, nor shall you mine. But Indiana's purity I will defend. Who waits? Serv. Did you call, Sir ?

SUBMIS. Bev. l'es, go call a coach.







with SUBMIS. * AxCER.


Serv. Sir—Mr. Myrtle-Gentlemen —You are friends I am but a Servant-ButBev. * Call a coach.

[Exit Serv.] [A long pause. They walk fullenly about

the rooin.] [Aside.] Shall I (though provoked beyond sufferance) recover myself at the entrance of a third person, and that my servant too; and shall I not have a due respect for the di&tates of my own conscience'; for what I owe to the best of fathers, and to the defenceless innocence of my lovely Indiana, whose very life depends on mine?

[To Mr. Myrtle.] I have, thank heaven, had time to recollet myself, and have determined to convince you, by means I would willingly have avoided, but which yet are preferable to murderous duelling, that I am more innocent of ncthing, than of rivalling you in the affections of Lucinda. Read this letter; and confider, what effeEt it would have had upon you to have found it about the man you had murdered.

[Myrtle reads. ] “ I hope it is consistent with “ the laws a woman ought to impose upon herself to acknowledge, that your manner of de«s clining what has been proposed of a treaty of “ marriage in our family, and defiring, that the

refusal might come from me, is more engaging, “ than the Smithfield courtship of bim, whose arms




“ I am

To be spoken with the right hand on the breat.


“ I am in danger of being thrown into, unless Joy.

your friend exerts himself for our common safety and bappiness *.-0, I want no more, to clear your innocence, my injured, worthy friend - Shame. I see her dear name at the bottom - I see that you have been far enough from designing any obstacle to my happiness, while I have been treating my Remorse. benefactor as my betrayer - Bevil, with what Confusion. words shall I

Bev. There is no need of words. To convince Benev. is more than to conquer. If you are but satisfied, that I meant you no wrong, all is as it should be.

Myrt. But can you forgive - such mad- ANGUISH. ness?

REMORSE. Bev. Have not I myself offended? I had almost Benev. been as guilty as you, though I had the advantage Fortiv. of you, by knowing what you did not know.

Myrt. That I should be such a precipitate ANGUISH. wretch ?

REMORSE. Bev. Prithee no more.

FORGIV. Myrt. How many friends have died by the hand Selfof friends, merely for want of temper! What do I CONGRAT.

with not owe to your superiority of understanding? What Horror. a precipice have I escaped! O my friend - Can you ever----forgive----Can you ever again look ÎNTREAT. upon me---with an eye of favour ?




2 In reading the letter, the countenance of Myrtle ought to quii, by degrees, the look of anger, and to pass to those marked on the margin.



Bev. Why should I not? Any man may miftake. Any man may be violent, where his love is concerned. I was myself.

Myrt. O Bevil! You are capable of all that is great, all that is beroic.

[Enter a fervant to Bevil, and gives a letter.






From Mr. Pope's MORAL Essays. [Epift. III.)

HERE London's column, pointing to

the skies,
Like a tall bully, lifts its head, and lies,
There dwelt a citizen of fober fame,
A pain, good man, and Balaam was his name;
Religious, punctual, frugal, and so forth; .
His word would pass for more than he was worth,
One folid disb his week-day meal affords;
An added pudding folemniz'd the Lord's.
Constant at church, and change. His gains were sure,
His givings rare, fave farthings to the poor.

The Dev'l was piq’d such saintship to behold,
And long'd to tempt him, like good job of old;
But Saian now is wiser than of yore,
And tempts by making rich; not making poor.

Rous'd by the prince of air, the whirlwinds sweep
The surge, and plunge his father in the deep ;



Then full against his Cornish lands they roar ;
And two rich shipwrecks bless the lucky socre.
Sir Balaam now! He lives like other folks ;

He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes.
“ Live like yourself ;was soon my lady's word;
And lo! two puddings smok'd upon the board.
Asleep, and naked, as an Indian lay,
An bonest factor stole a gem away ;

Craft. And pledg'd it to our knight. Our knight had wit; He kept the di'mond, and the rogue was bit. Some fcruple roje. But thus he eas'd his thought; Anxiety. “ I'll now give fix-pence, where I gave a groat; Affected " Where once I went to church, I'll now go twice, Plety. “ And am so clear, too, of all other vice."

The tempter saw his time ; the work he ply'd; Craft. Stocks and subscriptions pour on ev'ry side ; Till all the demon makes his full descent,

EARNESTIn one abundant pow'r of cent per cent ; Sinks deep within him, and possesses whole ; Then dubs director, and secures his soul.

Behold! Sir Balaam, now a nan of spirit, PRIDE. Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit. What late he call’d a blesing, now was wit, And God's good providence, a lucky bit. Things change their titles, as our manners turn; NARRAHis compting-house employs the Sunday-morn. Seldom at church, ('twas such a busy life) But culy sent his family and wife. There (to the Dev'lordain’d) one Christmas-tide My good old lady caught a cold, and dy'd.

A nymph



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