memories; by the sweet innocence of your yet helpless child, and by the ceaseless sorrows of my poor mistress, to rouse your manhood, and struggle with these griefs!

Bev. Thon virtuous, good old man! thy tears and thy entreaties have reached my heart, through all its miseries.

Jar. Be but resigned, sir, and happiness may yet be yours. Hark! I hear voices! Come: this way we may reach home unnoticed.

Bev. Well; lead me, then. Unnoticed, didst thou say? Alas! I dread no looks, but of those wretches I have made at home! O, had I listened to thy honest warnings, no earthly blessing had been wanting to me! I was so happy, that even a wish for more than I possessed, was arrogant presumption: but I have warred against the power that blessed me, and now am sentenced to the hell I merit. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Stukely's Lodgings.
Enter STUKELY; meets DAWSON.

Stuk. Come hither, Dawson. My limbs are on the rack, and my soul shivers in me, till this night's business be complete. Tell me thy thoughts, is Bates determined, or does he waver?

Daw. At first, he seemed irresolute; wished the employment had been mine; and muttered curses on his coward hand, that trembled at the deed.

Stuk. And did he leave you so?

Daw. No; we walked together; and, sheltered by the darkness, saw Beverley and Lewson in warm debate; but soon they cooled, and then I left them, to hasten hither; but not 'till it was resolved Lewson should die.

Stuk. 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.

ACT V.

SCENE continues.

Enter STUKELY, BATES, and DAWSON. Bates. Poor Lewson! but I told you enough last night. The thought of him is dreadful to me. Stuk. In the street, did you say? And no one near him?

Bates. By his own door: he was leading me to his house; I pretended business with him, and stabbed him to the heart, while he was reaching at the bell.

Stuk. And did he fall so suddenly?

Bates. The repetition pleases you, I see. I told you, he fell without a groan.

Stuk. What heard you of him this morning? Bates. That the watch found him, and alarmed the servants. I mingled with the crowd just now, and saw him dead in his own house: the sight terrified me.

Stuk. Away with terrors, till his ghost rise and accuse us. We have no living enemy to fear; unless 'tis Beverley; and him we have lodged safe in prison.

Bates. Must he be murdered too?

Stuk. No; I have a scheme to make the law his murderer. At what hour did Lewson fall ?

Bates. The clock struck twelve, as I turned to leave him. 'Twas a melancholy bell, I thought tolling for his death.

Stuk. The time was lucky for us. Beverley was arrested at one, you say?

Daw. Exactly.

Stuk. 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 too busy. 'Tis well you have a heart of stone, the tale would melt it else.

Stuk. Out with it then.

Daw. I traced him to his lodgings; and, pretending pity for his misfortunes, kept the door open, while the officers seized him. 'Twas a damned deed; but no matter, I followed my in

Stuk. And what said he?

Daw. On Beverley?

Daw. He upbraided me with treachery; called you a villain; acknowledged the sums you had lent him, and submitted to his fortune.

Stuk. And the women?

Daw. For a few minutes, astonishment kept them silent; they looked wildly at one another,

Daw. Must he to prison, then?

Stuk. I ask obedience; not replies. This night, a jail 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.

Stuk. Dull and insensible! If Lewson dies, who was it killed him? Why, that he was seen quarrelling with him; and I, that knew 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. Stuk. Haste then, and, when 'tis done, come back and tell me.

Daw. Till then, farewell. [Exit. Stuk. Now tell thy tale, fond wife. And Lewson, if again thou canst insult me, I'll kneel and own thee for my master.

Not avarice now, but vengeance fires my breast, And one short hour must make me curs'd or blest. [Exit.

rage and fury soon gave them words; and then, in the very bitterness of despair, they cursed me, and the monster that had employed me.

Stuk. 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 then they fell upon their knees, with all the eloquence of misery endeavouring to soften us. I never felt compassion till that moment; and, had the officers been moved like me, we had left the business undone, and fled with curses on ourselves; but their hearts were steeled by custom, they tore him from their arms, and lodged him in prison, with only Jarvis to comfort him.

Stuk. There let him lie, till we have further business with him. You saw him quarrelling with Lewson in the street last night?

Bates. I did; his steward, Jarvis, saw him too. Stuk. And shall attest it. Here's matter to work upon; an unwilling evidence carries weight with him. Something of my design I have hinted to you before. Beverley must be the author of

Mrs. B. Then hear me, heaven. (Kneels.) Look down with mercy on his sorrows! Give softness to his looks, and quiet to his heart! On me, on me, if misery must be the lot of either, multiply misfortunes! I'll bear them patiently, so he be 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.)

Bev. 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.

Enter STUKELY.

Bev. Why is this villain here?

Stuk. To give you liberty and safety. There, madam, is his discharge. (Gives a paper to Charlotte.) The arrest last night was meant in friendship, but came too late.

Char. What mean you, sir?

Stuk. 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? Stuk. From Lewson's blood.

Char. No, villain! Yet what of Lewson; Speak quickly.

Stuk. You are ignorant then; I thought I heard the murderer at confession..

Char. What murderer? And who is murdered? Not Lewson? Say, he lives, and I will kneel and worship you.

Stuk. And so I would; but that the tongues of all cry murder. I came in pity, not in malice; to save the brother, not kill the sister.

son's dead.

Char. O horrible!

Your Lew

Bev. Silence, I charge you. Proceed, sir.
Stuk. No; justice may stop the tale; and here's

an evidence.

Enter BATES.

Bates. The news, I see, has reached you. But take comfort, madam. (To Charlotte.) There's one without, enquiring for you; go to him, and lose no time.

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 have some questions for him.

Stuk. Rather let him fly; his evidence may crush his master.

Bev. Why, ay, this looks like management. Bates. He found you, quarrelling with Lewson in the street last night. (To Beverley.)

Mrs. B. No; I am sure, he did not. Jar. Or, if I did,— Mrs. B. 'Tis false, old man; they had no quarrel, there was no cause for quarrel.

Bev. Let him proceed, I say. O! I am sick! sick! Reach a chair. (Jarvis brings it, he sits down.)

Mrs. B. You droop and tremble, love. Yet you are innocent. If Lewson's dead, you killed him

not.

Enter DAWSON.

Stuk. Who sent for Dawson

Bates, 'Twas I. We have a witness too, you little think of. Without, there!

Stuk. What witness?

Bates. A right one. Look at him.

Enter CHARLOTTE and LEWSON. (Mrs. B. on perceiving Lewson, goes into an hysteric laugh and sinks on Jarvis.) Stuk. 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 is 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. (Points at 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 give 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 sole contriver and possessor of all. ruined by sharpers and false dice; and Stukely

Daw. Had he but stopped on this side murder, we had been villains still.

Lew. (To Beverley.) How does my friend? Bev. Why, well. Who's he that asks me? Mrs. B. "Tis Lewson, love. Why do you look so at him?

Ber. (Wildly.) They told me he was murdered! Mrs. B. Ay; but he lives to save us.

Bev. Lend me your hand; the room turns round. Lew. This villain here disturbs him. Remove him from his sight; and, on your lives, see that you guard him. (Stukely is taken off by Dawson and Bates.) How is it, sir?

Bev. 'Tis here, and here. (Pointing to his head and heart.) And now it tears me!

Mrs. B. You feel convulsed, too. What is it disturbs you?

Bev. A furnace rages in this heart. (Laying his hand upon his heart.) Down, restless flames! down to your native hell, there you shall rack me! Oh, for a pause from pain. Where is my wife? Can you forgive me, love?

Mrs. B. Alas, for what!
Bev. For meanly dying.
Mrs. B. No; do not say it.

Bev. As truly as my soul must answer it. Had Jarvis staid this morning, all had been well; but, pressed by shame, pent in a prison, and tormented with my pangs for you, driven to despair and madness, I took the advantage of his absence, corrupted the poor wretch he left to guard me, and swallowed poison.

Lew. O, fatal deed!

Bev. Ay, most accursed. And now I go to my account. Bend me, and let me kneel. (They lift him from his chair, and support him on his knees.) 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 doom me, here I acquit the sentence; but if, enthroned in mercy where thou sitt'st, thy pity has beheld me, send me a gleam of hope, that in these last and bitter mo

for you, that even now, thus dying as I am, dubious and fearful of an hereafter, my bosom pang is for your miseries. Support her, heaven ! And now I go. O, mercy! mercy! (Dies.)

Lew. How is it, madam? My poor Charlotte, too! Char. Her grief is speechless.

Lew. Jarvis, remove her from this sight. (Jarvis and Charlotte lead Mrs. Beverley aside.) Some ministering angel bring her peace. And thou, poor breathless corpse, may thy departed soul have found the rest it prayed for. Save but one error, and this last fatal deed, thy life was lovely. Let frailer minds take warning; and, from example, learn that want of prudence is want of virtue. [Exeunt.

ACT I.

FERRET

TIMOTHY QUAINT

SIMON

WILLIAM GEORGE

SCENE I.-An Ante-chamber in Malfort, sen.'s house. (A very loud knock at the outside door.) Enter WILLIAM and SIMON, meeting. Sim. Well, William ;-what's the matter now? Will. Not much, master Simon; only Mr. Ferret's porter, to let you know that his master intends to call as he returns from 'change.

Sim. Ay: like foul weather, he generally comes unsent for. Shall I tell you a secret? I hate that man. I detest your sly, slow, hesitating friendships; plain honesty flows freely from the heart to the lips, and honour gives it utterance. (A loud knock.) Heyday! Mr. Ferret's porter again, I suppose!

Will. Looking off.) No; it is Mr. Ferret himself. Sim. Is it? Then begone, William. Get about your business; have an eye to the door; look to the plate; let nothing be stolen, nothing be wasted. Will. I am gone, old Careful. [Exit. Sim. Old Careful! 'Gad a'mercy, young Prateapace! [very well. Fer. (Within.) What, in this room, is he? Oh! Enter FERRET.

Fer. Ah! old Adage, are you there? Sim. Yes, sir, I am here. An old adage is better Fer. A new face? [than a new face. Sim, Yes, sir: some folks have a collection, and can wear the kind of countenance that best auswers their purpose.

Fer. Well said, old boy! Have you had any news from India, from my old friend, your master? Sim. No: haven't you? 'Tis whispered that you have. Paper speaks when beards never wag.

Fer. I am his factor here; and from his clerks I sometimes have a hint of his domestic concerns. But, should he suddenly surprise us by his appearance, all things, I trust, are right, Simon, You understand me? [prehension. Sim. No speak out. I am old, and dull of apFer. A hint should be enough, friend Simon: you know I am a plain, simple, straight-forward fellow; apt to talk too much, perhaps.

TOWNLY JOHN

JAMES

WIDOW CHEERLY

MRS. MALFORT

JULIA

MRS. FIDGET
SUSAN

MRS. TOWNLY

Sim. (Slyly.) Or not enough, perhaps.

Fer. You know, master Simon, I can't flourish upon a subject; but I do most heartily wish to make my worthy friend, my benefactor too, your honoured master,-I say, I could wish to set his heart at rest upon a subject that absorbs all other thoughts, and renders even his large possessions, his lands, his ingots, and accumulating wealth, mere unregarded dross.

Sim. Ay, I understand you now. Our lost young master. It is a subject I never cared to touch upon: he can't bear it. After our good lady's death, and my old master went to take possession in the east, our young gentleman was left behind to adjust some family affairs, and then to follow. But no; oh dear, no; the hungry ocean will gape, and we fear our dear young master long since has been its prey.

Fer. I may be wrong. I am naturally anxious, you know. Tis true, your master, should he survive, most likely will expect from me, on his return, some satisfaction on this subject; but is it the office of a man to make his patron miserable? No. His letters have been filled with strong expressions of parental solicitude. [then? Sim. (Catching him up.) What!-he has written Fer. N-yes-yes-yes-on his first going abroad I certainly had letters. [comforter? Sim. Which you have answered like a consoling Fer. No.

Sim. I thought so. (Aside.)

Fer. I have replied to them with caution. Poor Henry poor fellow! He has had many strange tossings and tumblings. I have had my emissaries at work, who have still kept an attentive eye upon his conduct; but his progress was velocity itself. Immediately after the departure of his father, he became what we call quite a jolly dog. While his cash lasted, he kept his horses, his hounds, his curricle; flashed at the court, drove through the city, got connected with the family of old Discount.

Sim. That was prudent, however. A worthy