him in a falsehood?

ANDREWS. In his fidelity I so confided,
That with the dearest treasure of my soul
I had entrusted him--and now he's lost;
For ever lost--yet, yet to think--O heav'n!
That this unhappy woman, once so virtuous,
Cou'd ever thus have chang'd. O Goodwin! Goodwin!
There's not a peasant in the clay-built hut,
Who daily with his toil-tir'd arm acquires
A scanty pittance for life's common wants,
Whose state is not a paradise to mine!

GOODWIN. Despond not thus, there's nothing certain yet;
Wherefore, compose awhile your ruffled spirit,
And bear with manly fortitude these trials:
The tempest may th' inferior regions shake,
Whilst those of higher sphere rest undisturb'd
Above the threaten'd ruin!

ANDREWS. [After some pause.] Oh! tell me then, what says
report of her?

GOODWIN. A dangerous request!

ANDREWS. But cou'd you see your friend so deeply wrong'd?
Wrong'd in the tenderest point! and yet be silent?
What says the world of this lord Belmour's visits?
You start--

GOODWIN. Its rumours may be false--however,
Since you so press it, I will thus far venture--
Suppose, that after you have left the city,
To sleep as usual at your rural dwelling,
This, or some other night, you should return?
And at some near-appointed station wait,
Until some friendly watch, whom you can trust,
Shall give you notice of the secret visit?

ANDREWS. Thanks for this hint, it shall be so this night.

GOODWIN. Mean while, you must be calm, or may prevent
The purposes you covet to accomplish. [They go off.]

SCENE II.

Mr. ANDREWS's house.

Mrs. ANDREWS and MARIA.

MARIA. Alas! what shall I do? 'tis I, 'tis I,
That should be punish'd.

Mrs. ANDREWS. Punish'd! for what?

MARIA. I've brought my husband to a shameful end.

Mrs. ANDREWS. Why this alarm? explain the mystery.

MARIA. Your safety only, and a rash resentment
(Not dreaming of the fatal consequence)
Made me convey the key into his trunk.
And Jefferson by note, without his signature,
Inform'd your husband he shou'd find it there.

Mrs. ANDREWS. Suspend, I pray you, your distress awhile.
As yet, he's but imprison'd in his room:
You know my husband has a tender heart,