largely; and now a prison must be his portion.

_Mrs. Bev._ No; I hope otherwise.

_Bev._ To hope must be to act. The charitable wish feeds not the
hungry. Something must be done.

_Mrs. Bev._ 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.

_Mrs. Bev._ The world may mend with us, and then we may be grateful.
There's comfort in that hope.

_Bev._ Ay; 'tis the sick man's cordial, his promised cure; while in
preparing it, the patient dies.--What now?

SCENE VIII.

_Enter LUCY._

_Lucy._ A letter, Sir.
[_Delivers it, and exit._

_Bev._ The hand is Stukely's.
[_Opens, and reads it to himself._

_Mrs. Bev._ And brings good news--at least I'll hope so--What says
he, love?

_Bev._ Why, this--too much for patience. Yet he directs me to
conceal it from you.
[_Reads._

Let your haste to see me be the only proof of your esteem for
me. I have determined, since we parted, to bid adieu to England;
chusing rather to forsake my country, than to owe my freedom in
it to the means we talked of. Keep this a secret at home, and
hasten to the ruined
R. STUKELY

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

_Mrs. Bev._ Follow him, did you say? Then I am lost indeed!

_Bev._ O this infernal vice! how has it sunk me! A vice, whose
highest joy was poor to my domestic happiness. Yet how have I
pursued it! Turned all my comforts to bitterest pangs! and all Thy
smiles to tears. Damned, damned infatuation!

_Mrs. Bev._ Be cool, my life! What are the means the letter talks
of? Have You, have I those means? Tell me, and ease me. I have no
life while You are wretched.

_Bev._ 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. Bev._ What means?

_Bev._ I came to rob you of them; but cannot--dare not; those jewels
are your sole support--I should be more than monster to request them.

_Mrs. Bev._ My jewels! Trifles, not worth the speaking of, if
weighed against a husband's peace; but let them purchase That, and
the world's wealth is of less value.

_Bev._ Amazing goodness! How little do I seem before such virtues!

_Mrs. Bev._ No more, my love. I kept them till occasion called to
use them; now is the occasion, and I'll resign