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 cursed 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, farewell 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 will 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 cheer and comfort him!— So hear me! So reward me! [Rises.

Bev. I would kneel too, but that offended Heaven would turn my prayers into 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 your's? To pour out my heart in wishes for a ruined wife, a child, and sister? Oh, no! for I have done a deed to make life horrible to you

Mrs Bev. Why horrible? Is poverty so horrible? The real wants of life are few. A little industry will supply them all-And cheerfulness will follow-It is the privilege of honest industry, and we will enjoy it fully.

Bev. Never, never-Oh, I have told you but in part. The irrevocable deed is done.

Mrs Bev. What deed!—And why do you look

so at me!

last night was meant in friendship; but came too late. Char. What mean you, sir?

Stuke. The arrest was too late, I say; I would have kept his hands from blood, but was too late. Mrs Beo. His hands from blood !-Whose blood ?—Oh, wretch! wretch!

Stuke. From Lewson's blood.

Char. No, villain! Yet what of Lewson ? Speak quickly.

Stuke. 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 and worship you.

Stuke. 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. Stuke. No. Justice may stop the tale-and here is an evidence.

Enter BATES.

Bates. The news, I see, has reached you. But take comfort, madam. [To CHAR.] There is one without inquiring for you. Go to him, and lose no time.

Char. O misery! misery!

[Erit.

Mrs Ben. Follow her, Jarvis. If it be true that Lewson's dead, her grief may kill her. Bates. Jarvis must stay here, madamı. I have some questions for him.

Stuke. Rather let him fly. His evidence may crush his master.

Bev. Why, ay; this looks like management. Butes. He found you quarrelling with Lewson in the streets last night. [To BEV. Mrs Bev. No; I am sure he did not. Jar. Or if I didMrs Bev. It is false, old man--They had no quarrel; there was no cause for quarrel.

Bev. Let him proceed, I say- -Oh! I am sick! sick!- -Reach a chair. [He sits down. Mrs Bev. You droop and tremble, love.Your eyes are fixed too- Yet you are innocent. If Lewson's dead, you killed him not. Enter DAWSON.

Enter LEWSON and CHARLOTTE.
Stuke. Lewson! O villains! villains!

[To BATES and DAWSON.

Mrs Bev. Risen from the dead! Why, this is unexpected happiness!

Char. Or is it his ghost? [To STUKELY.] That sight would please you, sir,

Jar. What riddle is 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 give 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. Oh execrable wretch! Bates. Dawson and I are witnesses of this. Lew. And of a thousand frauds. His fortune ruined by sharpers and false dice; and Stukely sole contriver and possessor of all.

Daw. Had he but stopped on this side murder, we had been villains still.

Mrs Beo. 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 himtill at last his own hand end him-How does my friend? [To BEV.

Bev. Why well. Who is 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 it 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!

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 sittest, 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 graciousI asked for hope, as the bright presage of forgiveness, and like a light, blazing through darkness, it came and cheered me-It was all I lived for, and now I die.

Mrs Bev. Not yet!-Not yet !-Stay but a little, and I will 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

Char. Forgive you! O my poor brother!

Bev. Lend me your hand, love- -So-raise me- -No-it will 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? -My poor Charlotte too!

Enter JARVIS.

Jar. How does my master, madam ? Here is help at hand--Am I too late then? [Secing BEVERLEY. Char. Tears! tears! why fall you not

-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 griefsSome ministering angel bring her peace! [JARVIS and CHARLOTTE lead her off.] And thou, poor, breathless corpse, 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 uncontrouled, of every kind,
Grow into passions, and subdue the mind;
With sense and reason hold superior strife,
And conquer honour, nature, fame, and life.
[Excunt omnes.

to you,

ON every gamester of th' Arabian nation,
'Tis said that Mahomet denounc'd damnation :
But, in return for wicked cards and dice,
He gave 'em black-eyed girls in paradise.
Should he thus preach, good countrymen,
His converts would, I fear, be mighty few,
So much your hearts are set on sordid gain,
The brightest eyes around would shine in vain;
Should the most heavenly 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 unnatʼral 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 arrant 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
belied.

Cards were at first for benefits designed,
Sent to amuse, not to 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.

BY

BESIDE his native Thames our poet long
Hath hung his silent harp, and hush'd his song.
Kind Commerce whisper'd, see my blissful state,
And to no smiles but mine resign thy fate;
Beneath the pregnant branches rest awhile,
Which by my culture spread this favour'd isle;
On that fair tree the fruits of every coast,
All which the Ganges and the Volga boast,
All which the sun's luxuriant beam supplies,
Or slowly ripens under frozen skies,
In mix'd variety of growth arise.
The copious leaves beneficence diffuse,
Which on affliction drops restoring dews,
And birds of hope among the loaded sprays,
Tune with enchantment their alluring lays,
To cheer dependence and th' inactive raise.
Rest here, she cried, and smiling Time again
May string the lyre, and I approve the strain.
At length his muse from exile he recalls,
Urged by his patrons in Augusta's walls.
Those generous traders, who alike sustain

Their nation's glory on th' obedient main,
And bounteous raise Affliction's drooping train;
They, who benignant to his toils afford
Their sheltering favour, have his muse restored.
They in her future fame will justly share,
But her disgrace herself must singly bear;
Calm hours of learned leisure they have giv'n,
And could no more, for genius is from heav'n.
To open now her long-hid roll she tries,
Where varied forms of pictured passions rise.
Revenge and pride their furies first unfold,
By artless virtue fatally controul'd.
Scenes, wrought with gentler pencil, then suc-
ceed,

Where love persuades a faithful wife to bleed;
Where, joined to public cares, domestic woe
Is seen from manly fortitude to flow.
But if her colours mock the candid eye
By spurious tincts, unmixt with nature's dye,
Ye friendly hands, restrain your fruitless aid,
And with just censure let her labours fade.

SCENE I.

Enter BOADICEA, DUMNORIX, Icenians, Tri-
nobantians, and Roman Ambassador.
Rom. Am. SUETONIUS, leader of the Roman
arms,

With gentlest greetings to the Icenian queen,
And Dumnorix, the Trinobantian chief,
Sends health, and proffers friendship. Let the

wrongs,

The mutual wrongs, sustained by Rome and Britain-

Boad. May stern Andate, war's victorious goddess,

Again resign me to your impious rage,
If e'er I blot my sufferings from remembrance;
If e'er relenting mercy cool my vengeance,
Till I have driven you to your utmost shores,
And cast your legions on the crimsoned beach!
Your costly dwellings shall be sunk in ashes:
Your fields be ravaged; your aspiring bulwarks
O'erturned, and levelled to the meanest shrub;
Your gaping matrons, and your children's blood,
With mingled streams, shall dye the British sword;
Your captive warriors, victims at our altars,
Shall crowd each temple's spacious round with
death:

Else may each power, to whom the Druids bend,
Annul my hopes of conquest and revenge!
Dum. [To the Ambassador.] You come to of-
fer terms. Stand forth and answer.
Did not Prasutagus, her dying lord,
On your insatiate emperor bestow
Half of his rich possessions, vainly deeming
The rest might pass unpillaged to his children?
What did ye then, ye savage sons of rapine?
You seized the whole inheritance by force;
Laid waste our cities; with the servile scourge
Disgraced a royal matron; you deflowered
Her spotless daughters, stole our noblest youth,
To serve your pride and luxury in Rome;
Our priests you butchered, and our hoary elders;
Profaned our altars, our religious groves,
And the base image of your Cæsar thrust
Among the gods of Britain; and, by Heaven!
Do you repair to these victorious tents
With proffered peace and friendship?

Rom. Am. Yes, to treat,

As faith, benevolence, and justice dictate. Dum. How shall we treat with those, whose impious hands

Have rent the sacred bands of mutual trust? How shall we treat with those, whose stony hearts

Compassion cannot melt, nor shame controul, Nor justice awe, nor piety restrain,

Nor kindness win, nor gratitude can bind?

No pillager, like Catus, but a soldier,
To calm and sober discipline inured;
He would redress, not widen, your complaints.
Dum. Can he restore the violated maid
To her untainted purity and fame?
Can he persuade inexorable death
To yield our slaughtered elders from the grave?
No, nor by soothing tales elude our vengeance.
Rom. Am. Yet hear us calmly, ere from you-
der hills

You call the legions of imperial Rome,
And wake her eagles, which would sleep in peace.
Boad. Begone, and bear defiance to your le
gions.

Tell them, I come; that Boadicea comes,
Fierce with her wrongs, and terrible in vengeance,
To roll her chariot o'er their firmest ranks,
To mix their soaring eagles with the dust,
And spurn their pride beneath her horses' hoofs.
Rom. Am. Then be prepared for war.
Boad. We are prepared.

Come from your hills, ye fugitive remains
Of shattered cohorts, by their fear preserved.
The embattled nations of our peopled isle,
Yet fresh from seventy thousand slaughtered Ro-

mans,

Shall add yon refuse to the purpled heap.
And yet amid triumphant desolation,
Though flames each Roman colony devour,
Though each distracted matron view her infant
Grasp with its tender hands the piercing spear;
Though your grey fathers to the falchion's edge
Each feeble head surrender-my revenge
Will pine unsated, and my greatness want
Redress proportioned to a queen's disgrace.

Dum. Go, and report this answer to Suetonius: Too long have parents' sighs, the cries of orphans,

And tears of widows, signalized your sway,
Since your ambitious Julius first advanced
His murderous standard on our peaceful shores.
At length, unfettered from his parent sloth,
The British genius lifts his ponderous hands,
To hurl, with ruin, his collected wrath,
For all the wrongs a century hath borne,
In one black period, on the Roman race.
Rom. Am. Yet, ere we part, your price of ran-