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discharg'd. I waited there on purpose. I want the women to think well of me; for Lewson's grown suspicious; he told me so himself.
Bates. What answer did you make him?
Stu. A short one—That I would see him soon, for farther explanation.
Bates. We must take care of him. But what have we to do with Beverley? Dawson and the rest are wondering at you.
Stu. Why let them wonder. I have designs above their narrow reach. They see me lend him money; and they stare at me. But they are fols. I want him to believe me beggar'd by him.
Bates. And what then?
Stu. Ay, there's the question; but no matter. At night you may know more. He waits for me at Wilson's. I told the women where to find him.
Bates. To what purpose?
Stu. To save suspicion. It look'd friendly; and they thank'd me. Old Jarvis was dispatch'd to him.
Bates. And may entreat him home.
Stu. No; he expects money from me; but I'll have none. His wife's jewels must go-Women are easy creatures, and refuse nothing where they love Follow me to Wilson's; but be sure he sees you not. You are a man of character, you know; of prudence and discretion. Wait for me in an outer room; I shall have business for you presently. Come, sir
Let drudging fools by honesty grow great :
- ACT II. SCENE I. A Gaming Ilouse with a Table, Box,
Dice, &c. BEVERLEY is discovered sitting. Bev. Why, what a world is this! The slave, that digs for gold receives his daily pittance, and sleeps contented; while those, for whom he labours, convert their good to
mischief, making abundance the means of want. O shame! shame! -Had I possess'd but little, that little had been hap'ly still my own. But plenty leads to waste and shallow streams maintain their currents, while swelling rivers beat down their banks, and leave their channels empty. What had I to do with play? I wanted nothing. My wishes and my means were equal. The poor follow'd me with blessings: love scatter'd roses on my pillow, and morning wak'd me to delight bitter thought! that leads to what I was, by what I am! I would forget both— Who's there?
Enter a WAITER. Wait. A gentleman, Sir, inquires for you. Bev. He might have used less ceremony. Stukely I
Wait. No, Sir, a stranger.
[Exit Waiter. A messenger from Stukely, then! from him that has undone me! Yet all in friendship, and now he lends me from his little, to bring back fortune to me.
Enter JARVIS. Jarvis! Why this intrusion ?- Your absence had been kinder.
Jar. I came in duty, Sir, if it be troublesome
Bev. It is—I would be private -hid even from myself. Who sent you hither?
Jar. One that would persuade you home again. My mistress is not well; her tears told me so.
Bev. Go with thy duty there then- But does she weep? I am to blame to let her weep.' 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 bless'd my old age. If that has left you, I must not leave you."
Bev. Not leave me! Recall past time then; or through this sea of storms and darkness shew me a star to guide me- But what canst thou?
Jar. The little that I can, I will. You have been generous to me-I would not offend you, Sir, -but
Bev. No. Think'st thou I'd ruin thee too? I have
enough of shame already—My wife! My wife! Would'st thou believe it, Jarvis? I have not seen her all this long night- I, who have lov'd her so, that every hour of absence seem'd as a gap in life. But other bonds have held me- 0! I have play'd the boy, dropping my counters in the stream, and reaching to redeem them, have lost myself. " Why wilt thou follow misery? Or, <if thou wilt, go to thy mistress. She has no guilt to sting her, and therefore may be comforted.'
Jar. For pity's sake, Sir! I have no heart to see this change.
Bev. Nor I to bear it- How speaks the world of me, Jarvis?
Jar. As of a good man dead. Of one who walking in a dream, fell down a precipice. The world is sorry for you.
Bev. Ay, and pities me. Says it not so? But I was born to infamy
Jar. My lov'd master, we are all born to good, if we but so please;-to be good and to do good.
Bev. I'll tell thee what it says. It calls me villain; a treacherous husband; 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.
Jur. And why not now? Rude people press upon her; loud, bawling creditors; wretches who know no pityI met one at the door; he would have seen my mistress. I wanted means of present payment, so promis'd it tomorrow. But others may be pressing; and she has grief enough already. Your absence hangs too heavy on her.
Bev. Tell her I'll come, then. I have a moment's business. But what hast thou to do with my distresses? Thy honesty has left thee poor; and age wants comfort. Keep what thou hast for cordials;' lest between thee and the grave misery steal in. I have a friend shall counsel me- This is that friend.
Enter STUKELY. Stu. How fares it, Beverley? Honest Mr. Jarvis, welk met; I hop'd to find you here. That viper Williams ! Was it not he that troubl'd you this morning ?
Jar. My mistress heard him then? I am sorry that she heard him.
Bev. And Jarvis promis'd payment.
Bev. Generous Stukely! Friendship like yours, had it ability like will, would more than balance the ills of fortune.
Stu. You think too kindly of memMake haste to Williams: his clamours may be rude else. [To Jar.
Jar. And my master will go home again-Alas! Sir, we know of hearts there breaking for his absence. [Exit.
Bev. Would I were dead!
Stu. Or turn'd hermit; counting a string of beads 6 in a dark cave.' Ha! ha! ha!-Prythee be a man; fortune may be our's again, at least we'll try for’t.
Bev. No it has fool'd us on too far.
Stu. Ay, ruin'd us; and therefore we'll sit down contented. These are the despondings of men without money; but let the shining ore chink in the pocket, and folly turns to wisdom.
Bev. Is this a time for levity? But you are single in the ruin, and therefore may talk lightly of it. With me 'tis complicated misery.
Stu. You censure me unjustly-I but assum'd these spirits to cheer my friend. My friend, alas! wants a comforter.
Bev. What new misfortune?
Stu. 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, reach'd out his hand, and perish'd with him.
Stu. Have better thoughts.
No moveables? Nor useless trinkets? Bawbles lock'd up in caskets to starve their owners: I have ventur'd deeply for you.
Bev. Therefore this heart-ake; for I am lost beyond. all hope.
Stu. No; means may be found to save us. Jarvis is rich. Who made him so? This is no time for ceremony.
Beo. 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. Stu. Good morning then.
[Going Bev. So hasty! Why then good morning.
Stu. And when we meet again, upbraid me. Say it was I that tempted you. Tell Lewson so; and tell him I have wrong'd you-He has suspicions of me, and will thank you.
Bev. No; we have been companions in a rash voyage, and the same storm has wreck'd us both. Mine shall be self-upbraidings.
Sti. And will they feed us? You deal unkindly by me. I have sold and borrow'd for you, while land or credit làsted; and now, when fortune should be tried, and my heart whispers me success, I am deserted; turn'd loose to beggary, while you have hoards.
Bev. What hoards? Name them and take them.
Bev. And shall this thriftless hand seize them too? My poor, poor wife! Must she lose all? I would not wound her so.
Stu. Nor I, but from necessity. One effort more, and we may retrieve all. I have unusual hopes.
Bev. Think of some other means, then. .
Stu. 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 out pride with, and shew, a , laughing world that she has finery to starve in.
Bev. No; she shall yield up all. My friend demands it. But need he have talk'd lightly of her? The jewels