Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

But they are fools. I want him to believe |
me beggared by him.
Bates. And what then?

Beo. No; think'st thou I'd ruin thee too? I have enough of shame already-My wife! my wife! Wouldst thou believe it, Jarvis? I have

Stuke. Ay, there's the question; but no not seen her all this long night-I, who have matter; at night you may know more.. He loved her so, that every hour of absence seemed waits for me at Wilson's.-I told the women as a gap in life! but other bonds have held where to find him. me-Oh, I have played the boy! dropping my counters in the stream, and reaching to redeem them, lost myself!

Bates. To what purpose?

Stuke. To save suspicion. It looked friendly, and they thanked me.-Old Jarvis was dispatched to him.

entreat him home

Jar. For pity's sake, sir!—I have no heart to see this change.

Bev. Nor I to bear it-How speaks the

Jar. As of a good man dead-Of one who,

-

Bates. And may Stuke. No; he expects money from me, world of me, Jarvis? but I'll have none. Ilis wife's jewels must go. Women are easy creatures, and refuse walking in a dream, fell down a precipice. nothing where they love. Follow to Wilson's The world is sorry for you. -Come, sir. Bev. Ay, and pities me. Says it not so? Let drudging fools by honesty grow great; But I was born to infamy. I'll tell thee what The shorter road to riches is deceit. it says; it calls me villain, a treacherous hus[Exeunt. band, 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.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-4 Gaming-house, with a Table,
Box, Dice, etc.

BEVERLEY discovered sitting.

Jar. And why not now? Rude people press upon her; loud, bawling creditors; wretches Beo. Why, what a world is this! The slave who know no pity-I met one at the doorthat digs for gold receives his daily pittance, he would have seen my mistress: I wanted and sleeps contented; while those for whom means of present payment, so promised it tohe labours convert their good to mischief, morrow: but others may be pressing, and she making abundance the means of want. What has grief enough already.-Your absence hangs had I to do with play? I wanted nothing-too heavy on her.

My wishes and my means were equal. — The Beo. Tell her I'll come then. I have a mopoor followed me with blessings, love scattered ment's business. But what hast thou to do roses on my pillow, and morning waked me with my distresses? Thy honesty has left thee to delight-Oh, bitter thought, that leads to poor; and age wants comfort. Keep what what I was, by what I am! I would forget thou hast, lest, between thee and the grave, hoth-Who's there? misery steal in. I have a friend shall counsel me-This is that friend.

Enter a Waiter.

Wait. A gentleman, sir, inquires for you. Bev. He might have used less ceremony. Stukely, I suppose?

Wait. No, sir, a stranger.

Bev. Well, show him in. [Exit Waiter] A messenger from Stukely then; from him that has undone me! yet all in friendship. And now he lends me his little to bring back fortune to me.

Enter JARVIS.

Jarvis! Why this intrusion ?--Your absence had been kinder.

Enter STUKely.

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

Bev. Generous Stukely! Friendship like

Jar. I came in duty, sir. If it be trouble-yours, had it ability like will, would more than

some

balance the wrongs of fortune.

Beo. It is I would be private-hid even Stuke. You think too kindly of me- -Make from myself. Who sent you hither? haste to Williams; his clamours may be rude else. [To Jarvis. Jar. And my master will go home again Alas! sir, we know of hearts there breaking for his absence. [Exit.

Jar. One that would persuade you home again. My mistress is not well-her tears told

me so.

Beo. Go with thy duty there then-Pr'ythee, be gone-I have no business for thee.

Jar. Yes, sir; to lead you from this place. I am your servant still. Your prosperous fortune blessed my old age: If that has left you, I must not leave you.

Bev. 'Would I were dead! Stuke. Ha! ha! ha! Pr'ythee, be a man, and leave dying to disease and old age. Fortune may be ours again; at least we'll try for't. Beo. No; it has fooled us on too far. Bev. Not leave me! Recall past time then; Stuke. Ay, ruined us; and therefore we'll or, through this sea of storms and darkness, sit down contented. These are the despondshow me a star to guide me.c.-But what canst ings of men without money; but let the shinthou? ing ore chink in the pocket, and folly turns Jar. The little that I can I will. You have to wisdom. We are fortune's children-True, been generous to me--I would not offend you, she's a fickle mother; but shall we droop besir-butcause she's peevish? -No; she has smiles in

store, and these her frowns are meant to brighten them.

Stuke. No matter; I have changed my mind -Leave me to a prison; 'tis the reward of Bev. Is this a time for levity?-But you friendship. are single in the ruin, and therefore may talk Bev, Perish mankind first! — Leave you to lightly of it; with me 'tis complicated misery. a prison! No! fallen as you see me, I'm not Stuke. You censure me unjustly; I but as- that wretch: nor would I change this heart, sumed these spirits to cheer my friend. Heav-o'ercharged as 'tis with folly and misfortune, en knows he wants a comforter, for one most prudent and most happy, if callous to a friend's distress.

Bev. What new misfortune?

Stuke. I would have brought you money, but lenders want securities. What's to be done? All that was mine is yours already.

Bev. And there's the double weight that sinks me. I have undone my friend too; one who, to save a drowning wretch, reached out his hand, and perished with him..

Stuke, Have better thoughts.

Beo. Whence are they to proceed? I have nothing left.

Stuke. You are too warm.

Bev. In such a cause, not to be warm is to be frozen. Farewell-I'll meet you at your lodgings.

Stuke. Reflect a little.-The jewels may be lost-Better not hazard them-I was too pressing.

Beo. And I ungrateful. Reflection takes up time.-I have no leisure for't-Within an hour expect me. [Exit. Stuke.[Sighing] Then we're indeed undone- Stuke. The thoughtless, shallow prodigal! What! nothing? No moveables, nor useless We shall have sport at night then-but hold trinkets?-Bawbles locked up in caskets, to-The jewels are not ours yet-The lady may starve their owners? I have ventured deeply refuse them-The husband may relent toofor you. Beo. Therefore this heart-ache; for I am erley, and the contents shall spur him to delost beyond all hope.

Stuke. No; means may be found to save us.-Jarvis is rich-Who made him so? This is no time for ceremony.

'Tis more than probable-I'll write a note to Bev

mand them-But am I grown this rogue through avarice? No; I have warmer motives, love and revenge-Ruin the husband, and the wife's virtue may be bid for.

Enter BATES.

Look to your men, Bates; there's money stirring. We meet to-night upon this spot.Hasten, and tell them.-Hasten, I say, the rogues will scatter else.

Bev. And is it for dishonesty? The good old man! Shall I rob him too? My friend would grieve for't.-No; let the little that he has buy food and clothing for him. Stuke. Good morning then. [Going. Beo. So hasty! why, then good morning. Stuke. And when we meet again upbraid Bates. Not till their leader bids them. me- Say it was I that tempted you-Tell Stuke. Give them the word, and follow me; Lewson so, and tell him I have wronged you I must advise with you-This is a day of bu-He has suspicions of me, and will thank you. siness. Beo. No; we have been companions in a rash voyage, and the same storm has wrecked us both: mine shall be self-upbraidings.

Stuke. And will they feed us? You deal unkindly by me. I have sold and borrowed for you while land or credit lasted; and now, when fortune should be tried, and my heart whispers me success, I am deserted-turned loose to beggary, while you have hoards.

Beo. What hoards? Name them, and take

them!

Stuke. Jewels.

Beo. And shall this thriftless hand seize them too? My poor, poor wife! Must she lose all? I would not wound her so..

Stuke. Nor I, but from necessity. One effort more, and fortune may grow kind.-I have unusual hopes.

Bev. Think of some other means then.
Stuke. I have, and you rejected them.
Beo. Pr'ythee let me be a man.

Stuke. Ay, and your friend a poor one

But I have done: and for these trinkets of a woman, why let her keep them to deck her pride with, and show a laughing world that she has finery to starve in.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-BEVERLEY's Lodgings.

Enter BEVERLEY and CHARlotte. Char. Your looks are changed too;-there's wildness in them. My wretched sister! How will it grieve her to see you thus!

Bev. No, no; a little rest will ease me. And for your Lewson's kindness to her it has my thanks; I have no more to give him.

Char. Yes; a sister and her fortune. I trifle with him, and he complains-My looks, he says, are cold upon him. He thinks too

Beo. That I have lost your fortune-He dares not think so.

Char. Nor does he-you are too quick at guessing-He cares not if you had. That care is mine-I lent it you to husband, and now I claim it.

Bev. You have suspicions then?
Char. Cure them, and give it me.
Bev. To stop a sister's chidings?
Char. To vindicate her brother.
Bev. How if he needs no vindication?
Char. I would fain hope so.

Bev. Ay; would and cannot-Leave it to time then; 'twill satisfy all doubts.

Char. Mine are already satisfied. Beo. 'Tis well. And when the subject is renewed, speak to me like a sister, and I will answer like a brother.

Bev. No; she shall yield up all-My friend demands it. But need we have talked lightly of her? The jewels that she values are truth and innocence-Those will adorn her for ever; and, for the rest, she wore them for a husband's pride, and to his wants will give them. Char. To tell me I'm a beggar.-Why, tell Alas! you know her not.—Where shall we meet? it now. I, that can bear the ruin of those

dearer to me--the ruin of a sister and her ripens manhood in him, shall ripen vice tooinfant, can bear that too. I'й prove him, and lay him open to youBeo. No more of this-you wring my heart. Till then be warned-I know him, and thereChar. 'Would that the misery were all your fóre shun him. own! But innocence must suffer-Unthinking Beo. As I would those that wrong him. rioter!-whose home was heaven to him! an You are too busy, sir. angel dwelt there, and a little cherub, that crown'd his days with blessings.-How has he haps-That had been milder. lost this heaven, to league with devils!

Bev. Forbear, I say; reproaches come too late; they search, but cure not. And, for the fortune you demand, we'll talk to-morrow on't -our tempers may be milder.

Mrs. B. No; not too busy-Mistaken, per

Lew. No matter, madam. I can bear this, and praise the heart that prompts it-Pity such friendship should be so placed!

Bev. Again, sir! But I'll bear too - - You wrong him, Lewson, and will be sorry for't. Char. Ay; when 'tis proved he wrongs him. The world is full of hypocrites.

Char. Or, if 'tis gone, why farewell all. I claimed it for a sister.-But I'll upbraid no more. What heaven permits, perhaps it may Beo. And Stukely one-so you would infer, ordain. Yet, that the husband, father, brother, I think.-I'll hear no more of this-my heart should be its instruments of vengeance!-'Tis aches for him-I have undone him. grievous to know that! Lew. The world says otherwise.

Beo. If you're my sister spare the remem- Beo. The world is false then-I have busibrance-it wounds too deeply. To-morrow ness with you, love. [To Mrs. Beverley] shall clear all; and when the worst is known, We'll leave them to their rancour. [Going. it may be better than your fears. Comfort my Char. No; we shall find room within for't. wife; and for the pains of absence I'll make -Come this way, sir. [To Lewson. Lew. Another time my friend will thank me; that time is hastening too.

atonement.

Char. See where she comes!-Look cheerfully upon her Affections such as hers are prying, and lend those eyes that read the soul.

Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and LEWSON. Mrs. B. My life!

Beo. My love! how fares it? I have been a truant husband.

[Exeunt Lewson and Charlotte. Beo. They hurt me beyond bearing - Is Stukely false! Then honesty has left us! 'Twere sinning against heaven to think so.

Mrs. B. I never doubted him.

Beo. No; you are charity. Meekness and ever-during patience live in that heart, and love that knows no change.-Why did Í ruin

Mrs. B. But we meet now, and that heals all-Doubts and alarms I have had; but in you? this dear embrace I bury and forget them. My Mrs. B. You have not ruined me. I have friend here, [Pointing to Lewson] has been no wants when you are present, nor wishes indeed a friend. Charlotte, 'tis you must thank in your absence, but to be blest with your him: your brother's thanks and mine are of return. Be but resigned to what has happened, too little value. and I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Bev. Yet what we have we'll pay. I thank Bev. My generous girl!-But memory will you, sir, and am obliged. I would say more, but be busy; still crowding on my thoughts, to that your goodness to the wife upbraids the sour the present by the past. Í have another husband's follies.. Had I been wise, she had pang too. not trespassed on your bounty.

Lew. Nor has she trespassed. The little I have done acceptance overpays.

Char. So friendship thinks-

Mrs. B. Tell it, and let me cure it.

Bev. That friend that generous friend, whose fame they have traduced-I have undone him too. While he had means he lent me largely; and now a prison must be his

Mrs. B. And doubles obligations by striving to conceal them-We'll talk another time on't portion. You are too thoughtful, love.

Bev. No; I have reason for these thoughts.

Mrs. B. No; I hope otherwise.

Bev. To hope must be to act. The chariChar. And hatred for the cause- 'Would table wish feeds not the hungry-Something you had that too!

Beo. I have-The cause was avarice.
Char. And who the tempter?

Beo. A ruined friend-ruined by too much kindness.

must be done.

Mrs. B. What?

Bev. In bitterness of heart he told me, just now he told me, I had undone him. Could I hear that, and think of happiness? No, I have disclaimed it while he is miserable.

Lew. Ay, worse than ruined; stabbed in his fame, mortally stabbed-riches can't cure him. Bev. Or if they could, those I have drained him of. Something of this he hinted in the that hope.

Mrs. B. The world may mend with us, and then we may be grateful. There's comfort in

Enter LUCY.

morning that Lewson had suspicions of him Beo. Ay, 'tis the sick man's cordial, his pro-Why these suspicions? [Angrily. mised cure; while, in preparing it, the patient Lew. At school we knew this Stukely. A dies-What now? cunning, plodding boy he was, sordid and cruel, slow at his task, but quick at shifts and Tricking. He schemed out mischief, that others might be punished; and would tell his tale with so much art, that for the lash he merited, rewards and praise were given him. Show me a boy with such a mind, and time, that I'll hope so-What says he, love?

Lucy. A letter, sir. [Delivers it, and exit.
Bev. The hand is Stukely's.

[Opens it, and reads it to himself. Mrs. B. And brings good news—at least

Beo. Why this-too much for patience. ther. The dwarf that has it shall trip the Yet he directs me to conceal it from you. giant's heels up.

[Reads. Stuke. And bind him to the ground. Why, Let your haste to see me be the only proof we'll erect a shrine for nature, and be her of your esteem for me. I have determined, oracles. Conscience is weakness; fear made since we parted, to bid adieu to England; it, and fear maintains it. The dread of shame, choosing rather to forsake my country, inward reproaches, and fictitious burnings swell than owe my freedom in it to the means out the phantom. Nature knows none of this; we talked of. Keep this a secret at home, her laws are freedom. and hasten to the ruined.

R. STUKELY.

Ruined by friendship!-I must relieve or follow him.

Bates. Sound doctrine, and well delivered! Stuke. We are sincere too, and practise what we teach. Let the grave pedant say as

Mrs. B. Follow him did you say? Then I much.-But now to business-The jewels are am lost indeed! disposed of, and Beverley again worth money.

Beo. Oh, this infernal vice! how has it sunk If my design succeeds, this night we finish me! A vice, whose highest joy was poor to with him-Go to your lodgings, and be busy my domestic happiness. Yet how have I pur--You understand conveyances, and can make sued it! turned all my comforts to bitterest ruin sure. pangs, and all my smiles to tears. damned infatuation!

Damned, Bales. Better stop here. The sale of this reversion may be talked of-There's danger

Mrs. B. Be cool, my life! What are the in it. means the letter talks of? Have you-have I those means? Tell me, and ease me. I have no life while you are wretched.

Beo. No, no; it must not be. 'Tis I alone have sinned; 'tis I alone must suffer. You shall reserve those means, to keep my child and his wronged mother from want and wretchedness. Mrs. B. What means?

wealth is of less value.

Stuke. No, 'tis the mark I aim at. We'll thrive and laugh. You are the purchaser, and there's the payment. [Giving a Pocket-book] He thinks you rich; and so you shall be. Inquire for titles, and deal hardly; 'twill look like honesty.

Bates. How if he suspects us?

Stuke. Leave it to me. I study hearts, and Beo. I came to rob you of them-but can- when to work upon them. Go to your lodgnot-dare not-Those jewels are your sole ings; and if we come, be busy over papers. support-I should be more than monster to Talk of a thoughtless age, of gaming and exrequest them. travagance; you have a face for't. Mrs. B. My jewels! Trifles, not worth speak- Bates. A feeling too that would avoid it. ing of, if weighed against a husband's peace; We push too far; but I have cautioned you. but let them purchase that, and the world's If it ends ill, you'll think of me-adieu. [Exit. Stuke. This fellow sins by halves; his fears Beo. How little do I seem before such virtues! are conscience to him. I'll turn these fears to Mrs. B. No more, my love. I kept them use. Rogues that dread shame will still be till occasion called to use them; now is the greater rogues to hide their guilt — Lewson occasion, and I'll resign them cheerfully. grows troublesome-We must get rid of him Beo. Why, we'll be rich in love then. But He knows too much. I have a tale for Bevthis excess of kindness melts me. Yet for a erley; part of it truth too-He shall call Lewfriend one would do much -He has denied son to account-If it succeeds, 'tis well; if me nothing. not, we must try other means-But here he comes-I must dissemble.

Mrs. B. Come to my closet-But let him manage wisely. We have no more to give him. Beo. Where learned my love this excellence? 'Tis heaven's own teaching: that heaven, which to an angel's form has given a mind more lovely. I am unworthy of you, but will deserve you better.

Henceforth my follies and neglects shall cease,
And all to come be penitence and peace;
Vice shall no more attract me with her charms,
Nor pleasure reach me, but in these dear arms,
[Exeunt.

ACT III

SCENE I-STUKELY's Lodgings.
Enter STUKELY and BATES.

Enter BEVERLEY.

Look to the door there!—[In a seeming Fright] My friend!-I thought of other visitors. Bre. No; these shall guard you from them. [Offering Notes] Take them, and use them cautiously-The world deals hardly by us.

Stuke. And shall I leave you destitute? No; your wants are the greatest. Another climate may treat me kinder. The shelter of to-night takes me from this.

Beo. Let these be your support then — Yet is there need of parting? I may have means again; we'll share them, and live wisely. Stuke. No; I should tempt you on.

Habit

Stuke. So runs the world, Bates. Fools are is nature in me: ruin can't cure it. Even now the natural prey of knaves; nature designed I would be gaming. Taught by experience as them so, when she made lambs for wolves. I am, and knowing this poor sum is all that's The laws, that fear and policy have framed, left us, I am for venturing still—And say I nature disclaims: she knows but two, and those am to blame-Yet will this little supply our are force and cunning. The nobler law is wants? No; we must put it out to usury.force; but then there's danger in't; while cun- Whether 'tis madness in me, or some restless ning, like a skilful miner, works safely and impulse of good fortune, I yet am ignorant; but

unseen.

Bates. And therefore wisely. Force must Beo. Take it, and succeed then. I'll try no have nerves and sinews; cunning wants nei- more.

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 forgotBev. What is it?

Stuke. Perhaps 'twere best forgotten. But

[blocks in formation]

SCENE II.-BEVERLEY'S Lodgings.
Enter MRS. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE.
Char. 'Twas all a scheme, a mean one;
unworthy of my brother.

Mrs. B. No, I am sure it was not-Stukely

I am open in my nature, and zealous for the is honest too, I know he is.-This madness honour of my friend-Lewson speaks freely has undone them both. of you.

Bev. Of you I know he does.

Char. My brother irrecoverable- You are too spiritless a wife-A mournful tale, mixed Stuke. I. can forgive him for't; but, for my with a few kind words, will steal away your friend, I'm angry.

Beo. What says he of me?

Stuke. That Charlotte's fortune is embezzled —He talks on't loudly.

Bev. He shall be silenced then-How heard you of it?

Stuke. From many. He questioned Bates about it. You must account with him, he says. Beo. Or he with me-and soon too. Stuke. Speak mildly to him. Cautions are best.

Beo. I'll think on't-But whither go you? Stuke. From poverty and prisons-No, matter whither. If fortune changes, you may

hear from me.

Beo. 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.

soul. The world's too subtle for such goodness. Had I been by, he should have asked your life sooner than those jewels.

Mrs. B. He should have had it then. [Warmly] I live but to oblige him. She who can love and is beloved, like me, will do as much. Men have done more for mistresses, and women for a base deluder: and shall a wife do less? Your chidings hurt me, Charlotte.

Char. And come too late; they might have saved you else. How could he use you so? Mrs. B. 'Twas friendship did it. His heart was breaking for a friend.

Char. The friend that has betrayed him.
Mrs. B. Pr'ythee don't think so.

Char. To-morrow he accounts with me. Mrs. B. And fairly-I will not doubt it. 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-I 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.

Beo. 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 themfarewell. Beo. No; stay a moment-How my poor Mrs. B. I know it, and am cheerful. We 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. Stuke. I'll not persuade you. Bev. I am persuaded; by reason too; the 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? Stuke. At Wilson's - Yet if it hurts you, leave me: I have misled you often.

Beo. We have misled each other-But come! Fortune is fickle, and may be tir'd with plaguing us-There let us rest our hopes.

Stuke. Yet think a little.

Beo. I cannot-thinking but distracts me.
When desperation leads, all thoughts are

vain;

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.

We were just speaking of you.

[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 in private with you, of matters that concern your. Char. What matters?

Lew. First, answer me sincerely to what I ask.
Char. Propose your question.

Lew. 'Tis now a tedious twelvemonth since, with an open and kind heart, you said you loved me. And when, in consequence of such

« VorigeDoorgaan »