Chapter VII: Act IV: SCENE, BEVERLEY'S lodgings

_Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, CHARLOTTE, and LEWSON._

_Charlotte._ The smooth-tongued hypocrite!

_Lew._ But we have found him, and will requite him. Be chearful, madam; (_To Mrs. Beverley_) and for the insults of this ruffian, you shall have ample retribution.

_Mrs. Bev._ But not by violence--Remember you have sworn it: I had been silent else.

_Lew._ You need not doubt me; I shall be cool as patience.

_Mrs. Bev._ See him to-morrow then.

_Lew._ And why not now? By heaven, the veriest worm that crawls is made of braver spirit than this Stukely. Yet for my promise, I'll deal gently with him. I mean to watch his looks: from those, and from his answers to my charge, much may be learnt. Next I'll to Bates, and sift him to the bottom. If I fail there, the gang is numerous, and for a bribe will each betray the other. Good night; I'll lose no time. [_Exit._

_Mrs. Bev._ These boisterous spirits! how they wound me! But reasoning is in vain. Come, Charlotte; we'll to our usual watch. The night grows late.

_Char._ I am fearful of events; yet pleased--To-morrow may relieve us. [_Going._

SCENE II.

_Enter JARVIS._

_Char._ How now, good Jarvis?

_Jar._ I have heard ill news, madam.

_Mrs. Bev._ What news? Speak quickly.

_Jar._ Men are not what they seem. I fear me, Mr. Stukely is dishonest.

_Char._ We know it, Jarvis. But what's your news?

_Jar._ That there's an action against my master, at his friend's suit.

_Mrs. Bev._ O, villain! villain! 'twas this he threatened then. Run to that den of robbers, Wilson's--Your master may be there. Entreat him home, good Jarvis. Say I have business with him--But tell him not of Stukely--It may provoke him to revenge--Haste! haste! good Jarvis. [_Exit Jarvis._

_Char._ This minister of hell! O, I could tear him piece-meal!

_Mrs. Bev._ I am sick of such a world. Yet heaven is just; and in its own good time, will hurl destruction on such monsters. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III. _changes to _STUKELY'S_ lodgings._

_Enter STUKELY, and BATES, meeting_.

_Bates._ Where have you been?

_Stu._ Fooling my time away: playing my tricks, like a tame monkey, to entertain a woman--No matter where-- I have been vext and disappointed. Tell me of Beverley. How bore he his last shock?

_Bates._ Like one (so Dawson says) whose senses had been numbed by misery. When all was lost, he fixed his eyes upon the ground, and stood some time, with folded arms, stupid and motionless. Then snatching his sword, that hung against the wainscot, he sat him down; and with a look of fixt attention, drew figures on the floor. At last he started up, looked wild, and trembled; and like a woman, seized with her sex's fits, laughed out aloud, while the tears trickled down his face--so left the room.

_Stu._ Why, this was madness.

_Bates._ The madness of despair.

_Stu._ We must confine him then. A prison would do well. (_A knocking at the door._) Hark! that knocking may be his. Go that way down. (_Exit Bates._) Who's there?

SCENE IV.

_Enter LEWSON._

_Lew._ An enemy. An open and avowed one.

_Stu._ Why am I thus broke in upon? This house is mine, Sir; and should protect me from insult and ill-manners.

_Lew._ Guilt has no place of sanctuary; wherever found, 'tis virtue's lawful game. The fox's hold, and tyger's den, are no security against the hunter.

_Stu._ Your business, Sir?

_Lew._ To tell you that I know you--Why this confusion? That look of guilt and terror? Is Beverley awake? Or has his wife told tales? The man that dares like You, should have a soul to justify his deeds, and courage to confront accusers. Not with a coward's fear to shrink beneath reproof.

_Stu._ Who waits there?
[_Aloud, and in confusion._

_Lew._ By heaven, he dies that interrupts us. (_Shutting the door._) You should have weighed your strength, Sir; and then, instead of climbing to high fortune, the world had marked you for what you are, a little paultry villain.

_Stu._ You think I fear you.

_Lew._ I know you fear me. This is to prove it. (_Pulls him by the sleeve._) You wanted privacy! A lady's presence took up your attention! Now we are alone, Sir.--Why, what a wretch! (_Flings him from him._) The vilest insect in creation will turn when trampled on; yet has this Thing undone a man--by cunning and mean arts undone him. But we have found you, Sir; traced you through all your labyrinths. If you would save yourself, fall to confession: no mercy will be shewn else.

_Stu._ First prove me what you think me. Till then, your threatenings are in vain. And for this insult, vengeance may yet be mine.

_Lew._ Infamous coward! Why, take it now then-- (_Draws, and Stukely retires._) Alas! I pity thee. Yet that a wretch like this should overcome a Beverley! it fills me with astonishment! A wretch, so mean of soul, that even desperation cannot animate him to look upon an enemy. You should not thus have soared, Sir, unless, like others of your black profession, you had a sword to keep the fools in awe, your villainy has ruined.

_Stu._ Villainy! 'Twere best to curb this licence of your tongue; for know, Sir, while there are laws, this outrage on my reputation will not be borne with.

_Lew._ Laws! Dar'st Thou seek shelter from the laws? those laws, which thou and thy infernal crew live in the constant violation of? Talk'st thou of reputation too? when under friendship's sacred name, thou hast betrayed, robbed, and destroyed?

_Stu._ Ay, rail at gaming; 'tis a rich topic, and affords noble declamation. Go, preach against it in the city: you'll find a congregation in every tavern. If they should laugh at you, fly to my lord, and sermonize it there: he'll thank you and reform.

_Lew._ And will example sanctify a vice? No, wretch; the custom of my lord, or of the Cit that apes him, cannot excuse a breach of law, or make the gamester's calling reputable.

_Stu._ Rail on, I say. But is this zeal for beggared Beverley? Is it for Him that I am treated thus? No; He and His might all have groaned in prison, had but the sister's fortune escaped the wreck, to have rewarded the disinterested love of honest Mr. Lewson.

_Lew._ How I detest thee for the thought! But thou art lost to every human feeling. Yet let me tell thee, and may it wring thy heart! that though my friend is ruined by thy snares, thou hast unknowingly been kind to Me.

_Stu._ Have I? It was indeed unknowingly.

_Lew._ Thou hast assisted me in love; given me the merit that I wanted; since but for Thee, my Charlotte had not known 'twas her dear self I sighed for, and not her fortune.

_Stu._ Thank me, and take her then.

_Lew._ And as a brother to poor Beverley, I will pursue the robber that has seized him, and snatch him from his gripe.

_Stu._ Then know, imprudent man, he _is_ within my gripe; and should my friendship for him be slandered once again, the hand that has supplied him, shall fall and crush him.

_Lew._ Why, now there's spirit in thee! This is indeed to be a villain! But I shall reach thee yet. Fly where thou wilt, my vengeance shall pursue thee--and Beverley shall yet be saved, be saved from thee, thou monster; nor owe his rescue to his wife's dishonour. [_Exit_.

_Stu._ (_Pausing_) Then ruin has enclosed me. Curse on my coward heart! I would be bravely villainous; but 'tis my nature to shrink at danger, and he has found me. Yet fear brings caution, and That security. More mischief must be done, to hide the past. Look to yourself, officious Lewson--there may be danger stirring--How now, Bates?

SCENE V.

_Enter BATES._

_Bates._ What is the matter? 'Twas Lewson, and not Beverley, that left you. I heard him loud: you seem alarmed too.

_Stu._ Ay, and with reason. We are discovered.

_Bates._ I feared as much, and therefore cautioned you; but You were peremptory.

_Stu._ Thus fools talk ever; spending their idle breath on what is past; and trembling at the future. We must be active. Beverley, at worst, is but suspicious; but Lewson's genius, and his hate to Me, will lay all open. Means must be found to stop him.

_Bates._ What means?

_Stu._ Dispatch him--Nay, start not--Desperate occasions call for desperate deeds. We live but by his death.

_Bates._ You cannot mean it?

_Stu._ I do, by heaven.

_Bates._ Good night then.
[_Going._

_Stu._ Stay. I must be heard, then answered. Perhaps the motion was too sudden; and human nature starts at murder, though strong necessity compels it. I have thought long of this; and my first feelings were like yours; a foolish conscience awed me, which soon I conquered. The man that would undo me, nature cries out, undo. Brutes know their foes by instinct; and where superior force is given, they use it for destruction. Shall man do less? Lewson pursues us to our ruin; and shall we, with the means to crush him, fly from our hunter, or turn and tear him? 'Tis folly even to hesitate.

_Bates._ He has obliged me, and I dare not.

_Stu._ Why, live to shame then, to beggary and punishment. You would be privy to the deed, yet want the soul to act it. Nay more; had my designs been levelled at his fortune, you had stept in the foremost. And what is life without its comforts? Those you would rob him of; and by a lingering death, add cruelty to murder. Henceforth adieu to half-made villains--there's danger in them. What you have got is your's; keep it, and hide with it: I'll deal my future bounty to those who merit it.

_Bates._ What's the reward?

_Stu._ Equal division of our gains. I swear it, and will be just.

_Bates._ Think of the means then.

_Stu._ He's gone to Beverley's-- Wait for him in the street--'tis a dark night, and fit for mischief. A dagger would be useful.

_Bates._ He sleeps no more.

_Stu._ Consider the reward! When the deed's done, I have farther business with you. Send Dawson to me.

_Bates._ Think it already done--and so farewel.
[_Exit._

_Stu._ Why, farewel Lewson then; and farewel to my fears. This night secures me. I'll wait the event within. [_Exit._

SCENE VI. _changes to the street. Stage darkened._

_Enter BEVERLEY._

_Bev._ How like an out-cast do I wander! Loaded with every curse, that drives the soul to desperation! The midnight robber, as he walks his rounds, sees by the glimmering lamp my frantic looks, and dreads to meet me. Whither am I going? My home lies there; all that is dear on earth it holds too; yet are the gates of death more welcome to me. I'll enter it no more--Who passes there? Tis Lewson. He meets me in a gloomy hour; and memory tells me, he has been meddling with my fame.

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._