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SCENE VII.
Enter LEWSON.
Lew. Beverley! Well met. I have been busy in your affairs.
Bev. So I have heard, Sir; and now must thank you for't.
Lew. To-morrow I may deserve your thanks. Late as it is, I go to Bates. Discoveries are making that an arch villain trembles at.
Bev. Discoveries are made, Sir, that You shall tremble at. Where is this boasted spirit? this high demeanour, that was to call me to account? You say I have wronged my sister—Now say as much. But first be ready for defence, as I am for resentment. [Draws.
Lew. What mean you? I understand you not.
Bev. The coward's stale acquittance. Who, when he spreads foul calumny abroad, and dreads just vengeance on him, cries out, what mean you, I understand you not.
Lew. Coward, and calumny! Whence are these words? But I forgive, and pity you.
Bev. Your pity had been kinder to my fame. But you have traduced it; told a vile story to the public ear, that I have wronged my sister.
Lew. 'Tis false. Shew me the man that dares accuse me.
Bev. I thought you brave, and of a soul superior to low malice; but I have found you, and will have vengeance. This is no place for argument.
Lew. Nor shall it be for violence. Imprudent man! who in revenge for fancied injuries, would pierce the heart that loves him! But honest friendship acts from itself, unmoved by slander, or ingratitude. The life you thirst for, shall be employed to serve you.
Bev. 'Tis thus you would compound then! First do a wrong beyond forgiveness; and to redress it, load me with kindness unsolicited. I'll not receive it. Your zeal is troublesbme.
Lew. No matter. It shall be useful.
Bev. It will not be accepted.
Lew. It must. You know me not.
Bev. Yes; for the slanderer of my fame: who under shew of friendship, arraigns me of injustice; buzzing in every ear foul breach of trust, and family dishonour.
Lew. Have I done this? Who told you so?
Bev. The world. 'Tis talked of everywhere. It pleased you to add threats too: you were to call me to account —Why, do it now then; I shall be proud of such an arbiter.
Lew. Put up your sword, and know me better. I never injured you. The base suggestion comes from Stukely: I see him and his aims.
Bev. What aims? I'll not conceal it; 'twas Stukely that accused you.
Lew. To rid him of an enemy: perhaps of two. He fears discovery, and frames a tale of falsehood, to ground revenge and murder on.
Bev. I must have proof of this.
Lew. Wait till to-morrow then.
Bev. I will.
Lew. Good night. I go to serve you. Forget what's past, as I do; and chear your family with smiles. To-morrow may confirm them, and make all happy. [Exit.
Bev. (Pausing) How vile, and how absurd is man! His boasted honour is but another name for pride; which easier bears the consciousness of guilt, than the world's just reproofs. But 'tis the fashion of the times; and in defence of falsehood and false honour, men die martyrs. I knew not that my nature was so bad. [Stands musing.
SCENE VIII.
Enter BATES, and JARVIS.
Jar. This way the noise was—and yonder's my poor master.
Bates. I heard him at high words with Lewson. The cause I know not.
Jar. I heard him too. Misfortunes vex him.
Bates. Go to him, and lead him home—But he comes this way—I'll not be seen by him. [Exit.
Bev. (Starting.) What fellow's that? (Seeing Jarvis). Art thou a murderer, friend? Come, lead the way; I have a hand as mischievous as thine; a heart as desperate too—Jarvis!—To bed, old man, the cold will chill thee.
Jar. Why are you wandering at this late hour?—Your sword drawn too!—For heav'n's sake sheath it, Sir; the sight distracts Me.
Bev. Whose voice was that? [Wildly.
Jar. 'Twas mine, Sir. Let me intreat you to give the sword to me.
Bev. Ay, take it; quickly take it—Perhaps I am not so curst, but heav'n may have sent thee at this moment to snatch me from perdition.
Jar. Then I am blest.
Bev. Continue so, and leave me. My sorrows are contagious. No one is blest that's near me.
Jar. I came to seek you, Sir.
Bev. And now thou hast found me, leave me. My thoughts are wild, and will not be disturbed.
Jar. Such thoughts are best disturbed.
Bev. I tell thee that they will not. Who sent thee hither?
Jar. My weeping mistress.
Bev. Am I so meek a husband then? that a commanding wife prescribes my hours, and sends to chide me for my absence?
Tell her, I'll not return.
Jar. Those words would kill her.
Bev. Kill her! Would they not be kind then? But she shall live to curse me—I have deserved it of her. Does she not hate me, Jarvis?
Jar. Alas, Sir! Forget your griefs, and let me lead you to her. The streets are dangerous.
Bev. Be wise, and leave me then. The night's black horrors are suited to my thoughts. These stones shall be my resting-place. (Lies down.) Here shall my soul brood o'er its miseries; till with the fiends of hell, and guilty of the earth, I start and tremble at the morning's light.
Jar. For pity's sake, Sir!—Upon my knees I beg you to quit this place, and these sad thoughts. Let patience, not despair, possess you. Rise, I beseech you. There's not a moment of your absence, that my poor mistress does not groan for.
Bev. Have I undone her, and is she still so kind? (Starting up) It is too much—My brain can't hold it—O, Jarvis! Jarvis! how desperate is that wretch's state, which only death or madness can relieve!
Jar. Appease his mind, good heaven! and give him resignation! Alas, Sir, could beings in the other world perceive the events of this, how would your parents' blessed spirits grieve for you, even in heaven! Let me conjure you by Their honoured memories; by the sweet innocence of your yet helpless child, and by the ceaseless sorrows of my poor mistress, to rouze your manhood, and struggle with these griefs.
Bev. Thou virtuous, good old man! thy tears and thy entreaties have reached my heart, through all its miseries. 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 blest me, and now am sentenced to the hell I merit.
Jar. Be but resigned, Sir, and happiness may yet be yours.
Bev. Prithee be honest, and do not flatter misery.
Jar. I do not, Sir—Hark! I hear voices—Come this way; we may reach home un-noticed.
Bev. Well, lead me then—Un-noticed did'st thou say? Alas! I dread no looks, but of those wretches I have made at home. [Exeunt.
SCENE IX. changes to STUKELY'S.
Enter STUKELY, and DAWSON.
Stu. 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.
Stu. 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 'twas resolved Lewson should die.
Stu. 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.
Stu. But My prolific brain shall make them enemies. If Lewson falls, he falls by Beverley: an upright jury shall decree it. Ask me no questions, but do as I direct. This writ (Takes out a pocket book) for some days past, I have treasured here, till a convenient time called for its use. That time is come. Take it, and give it to an officer. It must be served this instant. [Gives a paper.
Daw. On Beverley?
Stu. Look at it. 'Tis for the sums that I have lent him.
Daw. Must he to prison then?
Stu. I asked 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.
Stu. Dull and insensible! If Lewson dies, who was it killed him? Why, he that 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.
Stu. Haste then; and when 'tis done, come back and tell me.
Daw. 'Till then farewel. [Exit.
Stu. Now tell thy tale, fond wife! And, Lewson, if again thou can'st insult me, I'll kneel and own thee for my master.
Not av'rice now, but vengeance fires my breast And one short hour must make me curst, or blest.
[Exit.
ACT V.
SCENE I. Enter STUKELY, BATES, and DAWSON.
Bates. Poor Lewson! But I told you enough last night. The thoughts of him are horrible to me.
Stu. 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.
Stu. And did he fall so suddenly?
Bates. The repetition pleases you, I see. I told you, he fell without a groan.
Stu. What heard you of him this morning?
Bates. That the watch found him in their rounds, and alarmed the servants. I mingled with the crowd just now, and saw him dead in his own house. The sight terrified me.
Stu. 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?
Stu. No; I have a scheme to make the law his murderer. At what hour did Lewson fall?
Bates. The clock struck twelve, just as I turned to leave him. 'Twas a melancholy bell, I thought, tolling for his death.
Stu. The time was lucky for us. Beverley was arrested at one, you say? [To Dawson.
Daw. Exactly.
Stu. 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.
Stu. 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 instructions.
Stu. And what said he?
Daw. He upbraided me with treachery, called You a villain, acknowledged the sums you had lent him, and submitted to his fortune.
Stu. And the women—
Daw. For a few minutes astonishment kept them silent. They looked wildly at one another, while the tears streamed down their cheeks. But 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.
Stu. 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 forbad them. 'Twas then they fell upon their knees, the wife fainting, the sister raving, and both, 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: the tears of beauty, and the pangs of affection, were beneath their pity. They tore him from their arms, and lodged him in prison, with only Jarvis to comfort him.
Stu. There let him lie, till we have farther business with him. And for You, Sir, let me hear no more of your compassion. A fellow nursed in villainy, and employed from childhood in the business of hell, should have no dealings with compassion.
Daw. Say you so, Sir? You should have named the devil that tempted me.
Stu. 'Tis false. I found you a villain; therefore employed you—But no more of this—We have embarked too far in mischief to recede. Lewson is dead; and we are all principals in his murder. Think of that. There's time enough for pity, when ourselves are out of danger. Beverley still lives, though in a jail. His ruin will sit heavy on him; and discoveries may be made to undo us all. Something must be done, and speedily. You saw him quarrelling with Lewson in the street last night? [To Bates.
Bates. I did; his steward, Jarvis, saw him too.
Stu. And shall attest it. Here's matter to work upon. An unwilling evidence carries weight with him. Something of my design I have hinted t'you before. Beverley must be the author of this murder; and We the parties to convict him. But how to proceed, will require time and thought—Come along with Me; the room within is fitter for privacy. But no compassion, Sir—(To Dawson) We want leisure for't—This way. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. changes to BEVERLEY'S lodgings.
Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, and CHARLOTTE.
Mrs. Bev. No news of Lewson yet?
Char. None. He went out early, and knows not what has happened.
Mrs. Bev. The clock strikes eight—I'll wait no longer.
Char. Stay but till Jarvis comes. He has sent twice to stop us till we see him.
Mrs. Bev. I have no life in this separation. O! what a night was last night! I would not pass another such, to purchase worlds by it. My poor Beverley too! What must He have felt!—The very thought distracts me! To have him torn at midnight from me! A loathsome prison his habitation! A cold damp room his lodging! The bleak winds, perhaps, blowing upon his pillow! No fond wife to lull him to his rest! and no reflections but to wound and tear him!—'Tis too horrible! I wanted love for him, or they had not forced him from me. They should have parted soul and body first. I was too tame.
Char. You must not talk so. All that we could we did; and Jarvis did the rest. The faithful creature will give him comfort. Why does he delay coming?
Mrs. Bev. And there's another fear. His poor master may be claiming the last kind office from him—His heart perhaps is breaking.
Char. See where he comes!—His looks are chearful too.
SCENE III.
Enter JARVIS.
Mrs. Bev. Are tears then chearful? Alas, he weeps! Speak to him Charlotte: I have no tongue to ask him questions.
Char. How does your master, Jarvis?
Jar. I am old and foolish, madam; and tears will come before my words—But don't You weep. (To Mrs. Beverley.) I have a tale of joy for you.
Mrs. Bev. What tale? Say but he's well, and I have joy enough.
Jar. His mind too shall be well; all shalt be well—I have news for him that shall make his poor heart bound again!—Fie upon old age! how childish it makes me! I have a tale of joy for you, and my tears drown it.
Char. Shed them in showers then, and make haste to tell it.
Mrs. Bev. What is it, Jarvis?
Jar. Yet why should I rejoice when a good man dies? Your uncle, madam, died yesterday.
Mrs. Bev. My uncle!—O heavens!
Char. How heard you of his death?
Jar. His steward came express, madam: I met him in the street, enquiring for your lodgings. I should not rejoice, perhaps; but he was old, and my poor master a prisoner—Now he shall live again—O, 'tis a brave fortune! and 'twas death to me to see him a prisoner.
Char. Where left you the steward?
Jar. I would not bring him hither, to be a witness of your distresses—and besides, I wanted once before I die, to be the messenger of joy t'you. My good master will be a man again.
Mrs. Bev. Haste, haste then; and let us fly to him!—We are delaying our own happiness.
Jar. I had forgot a coach, madam; and Lucy has ordered one.
Mrs. Bev. Where was the need of that? The news has given me wings.
Char. I have no joy, till my poor brother shares it with me. How did he pass the night, Jarvis?
Jar. Why now, madam, I can tell you. Like a man dreaming of death and horrors. When they led him to his cell—for 'twas a poor apartment for my master—he flung himself upon a wretched bed, and lay speechless till day-break. A sigh now and then, and a few tears that followed those sighs, were all that told me he was alive. I spoke to him, but he would not hear me; and when I persisted, he raised his hand at me, and knit his brow so—I thought he would have struck me.
Mrs. Bev. O miserable! But what said he, Jarvis? Or was he silent all night?
Jar. At day-break he started from the bed, and looking wildly at me, asked who I was. I told him, and bid him be of comfort—Begone, old wretch, says he—I have sworn never to know comfort—My wife! my child! my sister! I have undone them all, and will know no comfort—Then letting go his hold, and falling upon his knees, he imprecated curses on himself.
Mrs. Bev. This is too horrible!—But you did not leave him so?
Char. No, I am sure he did not.
Jar. I had not the heart, madam. By degrees I brought him to himself. A shower of tears came to his relief; and then he called me his kindest friend, and begged forgiveness of me like a child—I was a child too, when he begged forgiveness of me; my heart throbbed so, I could not speak to him. He turned from me for a minute or two, and suppressing a few bitter sighs, enquired after his wretched family—Wretched was his word, madam—Asked how you bore the misery of last night—If you had goodness enough to see him in prison—And then begged me to hasten to you. I told him he must be more himself first—He promised me he would; and, bating a few sullen intervals, he became composed and easy. And then I left him; but not without an attendant; a servant in the prison, whom I hired to wait upon him. 'Tis an hour since we parted: I was prevented in my haste, to be the messenger of joy t'you.
Mrs. Bev. What a tale is this?—But we have staid too long—A coach is needless.
Char. Hark! I hear one at the door.
Jar. And Lucy comes to tell us—We'll away this moment.
Mrs. Bev. To comfort him, or die with him. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. changes to STUKELY's lodgings.
Enter STUKELY, BATES, and DAWSON.
Stu. Here's presumptive evidence at least: or if we want more, why, we must swear more. But all unwillingly: we gain credit by reluctance. I have told you how to proceed. Beverley must die. We hunt him in view now, and must not slacken in the chace. 'Tis either death for Him, or shame and punishment for Us. Think of that, and remember your instructions. You, Bates, must to the prison immediately: I would be there but a few minutes before you. And you, Dawson, must follow in a few minutes after. So here we divide—But answer me; are you resolved upon this business like men?
Bates. Like villains rather—But you may depend upon us.
Stu. Like what we are then—You make no answer, Dawson—Compassion, I suppose, has seized you.
Daw. No; I have disclaimed it. My answer is Bates's—You may depend upon me.
Stu. Consider the reward! Riches and security! I have sworn to divide with you to the last shilling. So here we separate, till we meet in prison. Remember your instructions, and be men. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. changes to a prison.
BEVERLEY is discovered sitting. After a short pause, he starts up, and comes forward.
Bev. Why, there's an end then. I have judged deliberately, and the result is death. How the self-murderer's account may stand, I know not. But this I know; the load of hateful life oppresses me too much. The horrors of my soul are more than I can bear—(Offers to kneel) Father of mercy!—I cannot pray—Despair has laid his iron hand upon me, and sealed me for perdition—Conscience! conscience! thy clamours are too loud—Here's that shall silence them. (Takes a vial out of his pocket, and looks at it.) Thou art most friendly to the miserable. Come then, thou cordial for sick minds! come to my heart! (Drinks) O, that the grave would bury memory as well as body! For if the soul sees and feels the sufferings of those dear ones it leaves behind, the EVERLASTING has no vengeance to torment it deeper—I'll think no more on't—Reflection comes too late. Once there was a time for't—but now 'tis past—Who's there?
SCENE VI.
Enter JARVIS.
Jar. One that hoped to see you with better looks. Why do you turn so from me? I have brought comfort with me—And see who comes to give it welcome!
Bev. My wife and sister! Why, 'tis but one pang more then, and farewel world. [Aside.
SCENE VII.
Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, and CHARLOTTE.
Mrs. Bev. Where is he? (Runs and embraces him) O, I have him! I have him! And now they shall never part us more! I have news, love, to make you happy for ever—but don't look coldly on me.
Char. How is it, brother?
Mrs. Bev. Alas! he hears us not. Speak to me, love. I have no heart to see you thus.
Bev. Nor I to bear the sense of so much shame. This is a sad place.
Mrs. Bev. We come to take you from it; to tell you that the world goes well again; that providence has seen our sorrows, and sent the means to heal them—Your uncle died yesterday.
Bev. My uncle!—No, do not say so—O! I am sick at heart!
Mrs. Bev. Indeed!—I meant to bring you comfort. Bev. Tell me he lives then—If you would give me comfort, tell me he lives.
Mrs. Bev. And if I did, I have no power to raise the dead. He died yesterday.
Bev. And I am heir to him?
Jar. To his whole estate, Sir—But bear it patiently.
Bev. Well, well—(Pausing) Why, fame says I am rich then?
Mrs. Bev. And truly so—Why do you look so wildly?
Bev. Do I? The news was unexpected. But has he left me all?
Jar. All, all, Sir—He could not leave it from you.
Bev. I'm sorry for it.
Char. Sorry! Why sorry?
Bev. Your uncle's dead, Charlotte.
Char. Peace be with his soul then. Is it so terrible that an old man should die?
Bev. He should have been immortal.
Mrs. Bev. Heaven knows I wished not for his death. 'Twas the will of providence that he should die. Why are you disturbed so?
Bev. Has death no terrors in it?
Mrs. Bev. Not an old man's death. Yet if it troubles you, I wish him living.
Bev. And I, with all my heart.
Char. Why, what's the matter?
Bev. Nothing. How heard you of his death?
Mrs. Bev. His steward came express. Would I had never known it!
Bev. Or had heard it one day sooner—For I have a tale to tell, shall turn you into stone; or if the power of speech, remain, you shall kneel down and curse me.
Mrs. Bev. Alas! what tale is this? And why are we to curse you? I'll bless you for ever.
Bev. No; I have deserved no blessings. The world holds not such another wretch. All this large fortune, this second bounty of heaven, that might have healed our sorrows, and satisfied our utmost hopes, in a curst hour I sold last night.
Char. Sold! How sold?
Mrs. Bev. Impossible! It cannot be!
Bev. That devil Stukely, with all hell to aid him, tempted me to the deed. To pay false debts of honour, and to redeem past errors, I sold the reversion—sold it for a scanty sum, and lost it among villains.
Char. Why, farewel all then.
Bev. Liberty and life. Come, kneel and curse me.
Mrs. Bev. Then hear me heaven! (Kneels) Look down with mercy on his sorrows! Give softness to his looks, and quiet to his heart! Take from his memory the sense of what is past, and cure him of despair! On Me, on Me, if misery must be the lot of either, multiply misfortunes! I'll bear them patiently, so He is 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 chear and comfort him!—So hear me! so reward me! [Rises.
Bev. I would kneel too, but that offended heaven would turn my prayers to curses. What have I to ask for? I, who have shook hands with hope? Is it for length of days that I should kneel? No; My time is limited. Or is it for this world's blessings upon You and Yours? To pour out my heart in wishes for a ruined wife, a child and sister? O! no! For I have done a deed to make you miserable.
Mrs. Bev. Why miserable? Is poverty so miserable?—The real wants of life are few: a little industry will supply them all; and chearfulness will follow. It is the privilege of honest industry; and we'll enjoy it fully.
Bev. Never, never! O, I have told you but in part. The irrevocable deed is done.
Mrs. Bev. What deed? And why do you look so at me?
Bev. A deed, that dooms my soul to vengeance; that seals Your misery here, and Mine hereafter.
Mrs. Bev. No, no; You have a heart too good for't— Alas! he raves, Charlotte—his looks too terrify me—Speak comfort to him—He can have done no deed of wickedness.
Char. And yet I fear the worst. What is it, brother?
Bev. A deed of horror.
Jar. Ask him no questions, madam. This last misfortune has hurt his brain. A little time will give him patience.
SCENE VIII.
Enter STUKELY.
Bev. Why is this villain here?
Stu. To give You liberty and safety. There's his discharge, madam. (Giving a paper to Mrs. Beverley) Let him begone this moment. The arrest last night was meant in friendship; but came too late.
Char. What mean you, Sir?
Stu. The arrest was too late, I say. I would have kept his hands from blood, but was too late.
Mrs. Bev. His hands from blood! Whose blood?—O, wretch! wretch!
Stu. From Lewson's blood.
Char. No, villain! Yet what of Lewson? Speak quickly!
Stu. 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'll kneel down and worship you.
Stu. In pity, 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. Your Lewson's dead.
Char. O horrible! Why, who has killed him?—And yet it cannot be. What crime had He committed that he should die? Villain! he lives! he lives! and shall revenge these pangs.
Mrs. Bev. Patience, sweet Charlotte!
Char. O, 'tis too much for patience!
Mrs. Bev. He comes in pity, he says. O! execrable villain! The friend is killed then, and this the murderer?
Bev. Silence, I charge you. Proceed, Sir.
Stu. No. Justice may stop the tale—and here's an evidence.
SCENE IX.
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. Bev. 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.
Stu. 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. Bev. No; I am sure he did not.
Jar. Or if I did—
Mrs. Bev. '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 me a chair. [He sits down.
Mrs. Bev. You droop, and tremble, love—Your eyes are fixt too—Yet You are innocent. If Lewson's dead, You killed him not.
SCENE X.
Enter DAWSON.
Stu. Who sent for Dawson?
Bates. 'Twas I. We have a witness too, you little think of. Without there!
Stu. What witness?
Bates. A right one. Look at him.
SCENE XI.
Re-enter CHARLOTTE, with LEWSON.
Stu. Lewson! O—villains! villains! [To Bates and Dawson.
Mrs. Bev. Risen from the dead! Why, this is unexpected happiness!
Char. Or is't his ghost? (To Stukely) That sight would please you, Sir.
Jar. What riddle's this?
Bev. Be quick and tell it—My minutes are but few.
Mrs. Bev. Alas! why so? You shall live long and happily.
Lew. While shame and punishment shall rack that viper. (Pointing to 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 gave 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.
Mrs. Bev. O! execrable wretch!
Bates. Dawson and I are witnesses of this.
Lew. And of a thousand frauds. His friend undone by sharpers and false dice; and Stukely sole contriver, and possessor of all.
Daw. Had he but stopt on this side murder, we had been villains still.
Mrs. Bev. Thus heaven turns evil into good; and by permitting sin, warns men to virtue.
Lew. Yet punishes the instrument. So shall our laws; though not with death. But death were mercy. Shame, beggary, and imprisonment, unpitied misery, the stings of conscience, and the curses of mankind shall make life hateful to him—till at last, his own hand end him. How does my friend? [To Beverley.
Bev. Why, well. Who's he that asks me?
Mrs. Bev. Tis Lewson, love. Why do you look so at him?
Bev. They told me he was murdered. [Wildly.
Mrs. Bev. Ay; but he lives to save us.
Bev. Lend me your hand—The room turns round.
Mrs. Bev. O heaven!
Lew. This villain here, disturbs him. Remove him from his sight: and for 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. Bev. You feel convulsed too—What is't disturbs you?
Lew. This sudden turn of joy perhaps. He wants rest too. Last night was dreadful to him. His brain is giddy.
Char. Ay, never to be cured. Why, brother!—O! I fear! I fear!
Mrs. Bev. Preserve him, heaven!—My love! my life! look at me!—How his eyes flame!
Bev. A furnace rages in this heart—I have been too hasty.
Mrs. Bev. Indeed!—O me! O me!—Help, Jarvis! Fly, fly for help! Your master dies else—Weep not, but fly! (Exit Jarvis) What is this hasty deed?—Yet do not answer me—My fears have guessed it.
Bev. Call back the messenger. 'Tis not in medicine's power to help me.
Mrs. Bev. Is it then so?
Bev. Down, restless flames!—(Laying his hand on his heart) down to your native hell!— there you shall rack me—O! for a pause from pain!
Mrs. Bev. Help, Charlotte! Support him, Sir! (To Lewson)
Bev. What river's this? I'll plunge, and cool me! (Flings himself upon the ground.) O! 'tis a sea of fire!—Lift me! lift me! [They raise him to his chair.
Mrs. Bev. This is a killing fight!
Bev. (Starting) That pang was well. It has numbed my senses. Where's my wife? Can you forgive me, love?
Mrs. Bev. Alas! for what?
Bev. (Starting again) And there's another pang—Now all is quiet. Will you forgive me?
Mrs. Bev. I will. Tell me for what?
Bev. For meanly dying.
Mrs. Bev. 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; 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.
Mrs. Bev. O! fatal deed!
Char. Dreadful and cruel!
Bev. Ay, most accursed—And now I go to my account. This rest from pain brings death; yet 'tis heaven's kindness to me. I wished for ease, a moment's ease, that cool repentance and contrition might soften vengeance. 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 mad'st me, hear me! If for a life of frailty, and this too hasty deed of death, thy justice dooms 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 moments, my soul may taste of comfort! And for these mourners here, O! let their lives be peaceful, and their deaths happy! Now raise me. [They lift him to the chair.
Mrs. Bev. Restore him, heaven! Stretch forth thy arm omnipotent, and snatch him from the grave! O save him! save him!
Bev. Alas! that prayer is fruitless: already death has seized me. Yet heaven is gracious. I asked for hope, as the bright presage of forgiveness, and like a light, blazing through darkness, it came and cheared me. 'Twas all I lived for, and now I die.
Mrs. Bev. Not yet!—Not yet!—Stay but a little, and I'll die too.
Bev. No; live, I charge you. We have a little one: though I have left him, You will not leave him. To Lewson's kindness I bequeath him—Is not this Charlotte? We have lived in love, though I have wronged you—Can you forgive me, Charlotte?
Char. Forgive you!—O, my poor brother!
Bev. Lend me your hand, love. So—raise me—No—'twill not be—my life is finished—O! for a few short moments to tell you how my heart bleeds for you!—That even now, thus dying as I am, dubious and fearful of hereafter, my bosom pang is for Your miseries!—Support her heaven!—And now I go—O, mercy! mercy! [Dies.
Lew. Then all is over—How is it, madam? (To Mrs. Beverley.) My poor Charlotte too!
SCENE the last.
Enter JARVIS.
Jar. How does my master, madam? Here's help at hand—Am I too late then? [Seeing Beverley.
Char. Tears! tears! why fall you not? O wretched sister!—Speak to her, Lewson—her grief is speechless.
Lew. Remove her from this sight. Go to her, Jarvis; lead and support her. Sorrow like hers forbids complaint. Words are for lighter griefs. Some ministring angel bring her peace! (Jarvis and Charlotte lead her off.) And Thou, poor breathless corps, 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.
Follies, if uncontroul'd, of every kind, Grow into passions, and subdue the mind; With sense and reason hold superior strife, And conquer honour, nature, fame and life.
EPILOGUE.
Written by a FRIEND,
And Spoken by Mrs. PRITCHARD.
On every GAMESTER in th' Arabian nation, 'Tis said, that Mahomet denounc'd damnation; But in return for wicked cards and dice, He gave them black-ey'd girls in paradise. Should he thus preach, good countrymen, to You, His converts would, I fear, be mighty few: So much your hearts are set on sordid gain, The brightest eyes around you shine in vain: Should the most heav'nly beauty bid you take her, You'd rather hold—two aces and a maker. By your example, our poor sex drawn in, Is guilty of the same unnat'ral sin: The study now of every girl of parts Is how to win your money, not your hearts. O! in what sweet, what ravishing delights, Our beaux and belles together pass their nights! By ardent perturbations kept awake, Each views with longing eyes the other's—stake. The smiles and graces are from Britain flown, Our Cupid is an errant sharper grown, And Fortune sits on Cytherea's throne. In all these things, though women may be blam'd, Sure men, the wiser men, should be asham'd! And 'tis a horrid scandal, I declare, That four strange queens should rival all the fair; Four jilts, with neither beauty, wit nor parts, O shame! have got possession of their hearts; And those bold sluts, for all their queenly pride, Have play'd loose tricks, or else they're much bely'd. Cards were at first for benefits design'd, Sent to amuse, and not enslave the mind: From good to bad how easy the transition! For what was pleasure once, is now perdition. Fair ladies, then these wicked GAMESTERS shun, Whoever weds one, is, you see, undone.
FINIS.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
Announces Its
Publications for the Third Year (1948-1949)
At least two items will be printed from each of the three following groups:
Series IV: Men, Manners, and Critics
Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), The Theatre (1720). Aaron Hill, Preface to The Creation; and Thomas Brereton, Preface to Esther. [#15870] Ned Ward, Selected Tracts.
Series V: Drama
Edward Moore, The Gamester (1753). Nevil Payne, Fatal Jealousy (1673). Mrs. Centlivre, The Busie Body (1709). Charles Macklin, Man of the World (1781).
Series VI: Poetry and Language
John Oldmixon, Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley (1712); and Arthur Mainwaring, The British Academy (1712). Pierre Nicole, De Epigrammate. Andre Dacier, Essay on Lyric Poetry.
THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
Makes Available
Inexpensive Reprints of Rare Materials
from
English Literature of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries
Students, scholars, and bibliographers of literature, history, and philology will find the publications valuable. The Johnsonian News Letter has said of them: "Excellent facsimiles, and cheap in price, these represent the triumph of modern scientific reproduction. Be sure to become a subscriber; and take it upon yourself to see that your college library is on the mailing list."
The Augustan Reprint Society is a non-profit, scholarly organization, run without overhead expense. By careful management it is able to offer at least six publications each year at the unusually low membership fee of $2.50 per year in the United States and Canada, and $2.75 in Great Britain and the continent.
Libraries as well as individuals are eligible for membership. Since the publications are issued without profit, however, no discount can be allowed to libraries, agents, or booksellers.
New members may still obtain a complete run of the first year's publications for $2.50, the annual membership fee.
During the first two years the publications are issued in three series: I. Essays on Wit; II. Essays on Poetry and Language; and III. Essays on the Stage.
PUBLICATIONS FOR THE FIRST YEAR (1946-1947)
MAY, 1946: Series I, No. 1—Richard Blackmore's Essay upon Wit (1716), and Addison's Freeholder No. 45 (1716). [#13484]
JULY, 1946: Series II, No. 1—Samuel Cobb's Of Poetry and Discourse on Criticism (1707). [#14528]
SEPT., 1946: Series III, No. l—Anon., Letter to A.H. Esq.; concerning the Stage (1698) and Richard Willis' Occasional Paper No. IX (1698).
NOV., 1946: Series I, No. 2—Anon., Essay on Wit (1748), together with Characters by Flecknoe, and Joseph Warton's Adventurer Nos. 127 and 133. [#14973]
JAN., 1947: Series II, No. 2—Samuel Wesley's Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry (1700) and Essay on Heroic Poetry (1693).
MARCH, 1947: Series III, No. 2—Anon., Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage (1704) and anon., Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage (1704). [#15656]
PUBLICATIONS FOR THE SECOND YEAR (1947-1948)
MAY, 1947: Series I, No. 3—John Gay's The Present State of Wit; and a section on Wit from The English Theophrastus. With an Introduction by Donald Bond. [#14800]
JULY, 1947: Series II., No. 3—Rapin's De Carmine Pastorali, translated by Creech. With an Introduction by J.E. Congleton. [#14495]
SEPT., 1947: Series III, No. 3—T. Hanmer's (?), Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet. With an Introduction by Clarence D. Thorpe. [#14899]
NOV., 1947: Series I, No. 4—Corbyn Morris' Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, etc. With an Introduction by James L. Clifford. [#16233]
JAN., 1948: Series II, No. 4—Thomas Purney's Discourse on the Pastoral. With an Introduction by Earl Wasserman.
MARCH, 1948: Series III, No. 4—Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood Krutch.
The list of publications is subject to modification in response to requests by members. From time to time Bibliographical Notes will be included in the issues. Each issue contains an Introduction by a scholar of special competence in the field represented.
The Augustan Reprints are available only to members. They will never be offered at "remainder" prices.
GENERAL EDITORS
RICHARD C. BOYS, University of Michigan EDWARD NILES HOOKER, University of California, Los Angeles H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., University of California, Los Angeles
ADVISORY EDITORS
EMMETT L. AVERY, State College of Washington LOUIS I. BREDVOLD, University of Michigan BENJAMIN BOYCE, University of Nebraska CLEANTH BROOKS, Louisiana State University JAMES L. CLIFFORD, Columbia University ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, University of Chicago SAMUEL H. MONK, University of Minnesota JAMES SUTHERLAND, Queen Mary College, London
[Errata Noted by Transcriber:
Editor's Introduction and Gamester text: The main character's name is spelled "Beverly" in the Introduction, "Beverley" in the play as originally printed. This has been left unchanged.
ACT III, SCENE I: opening STUKELY'S lodgings. text reads STUKELEY'S...
ACT V, SCENE VIII: opening Enter STUKELY. text reads STUKLEY. ]
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