at the peril of the life of one of us, and I am ready upon your own terms. If this will not fatisfy you, and you will make a lawless affault upon me, will defend myfelf as against a ruffian. There is no fuch terror, Mr. Myrtle, in the anger of thofe, who are quickly bot, and quickly cold again, they know not how, or why. I defy you to fhew wherein I have wrong'd you.

Myrt. Mr. Bevil, it is eafy for you to talk IRRITATcoolly on this occafion. You who know not, I ING. fuppofe, what it is to love, and from your large fortune. and your fpecious outward carriage, have it in your power to come, without much trouble or anxiety, to the possession of a woman of honour; you know nothing of what it is to be alarmed, dif- JEALOUSY. tracted with the terror of lofing what is dearer than life. You are happy. Your marriage goes SARCASM. on like common business; and, in the interim, you have, for your foft moments of dalliance, your rambling captive, your Indian princess, your convenient, your ready Indiana.


Bev. You have touched me beyond the patience ANGER of a man; and the defence of Spotless innocence will, I hope, excufe my accepting your challenge, or at least my obliging you to retract your infamous afperfions. I will not, if I can avoid it, fed your blood, nor fhall you mine. But Indiana's purity I will defend. Who waits?

Serv. Did you call, Sir?

Bev. Yes, go call a coach.
















Serv. Sir-Mr. Myrtle-Gentlemen-You are friends-I am but a Servant-But—— Bev. Call a coach.


[Exit Serv.] [A long pause. They walk fullenly about the room.]

[Afide.] Shall I (though provoked beyond Jufferance) recover myself at the entrance of a third perfon, and that my fervant too; and shall I not have a due respect for the dictates of my own confcience; for what I owe to the best of fathers, and to the defenceless innocence of my lovely Indiana, whofe very life depends on mine?

[To Mr. Myrtle.] I have, thank heaven, had time to recollect myself, and have determined to convince you, by means I would willingly have avoided, but which yet are preferable to murderous duelling, that I am more innocent of nothing, than of rivalling you in the affections of Lucinda. Read this letter; and confider, what effect it would have had upon you to have found it about the man you had murdered.

[Myrtle reads.] "I hope it is confiftent with "the laws a woman ought to impofe upon her"felf to acknowledge, that your manner of de"clining what has been propofed of a treaty of "marriage in our family, and defiring, that the "refufal might come from me, is more engaging, "than the Smithfield courtship of him, whofe arms

"I am

To be spoken with the right hand on the breaft,


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"I am in danger of being thrown into, unless Jor. your friend exerts himself for our common fafety and happiness."-O, I want no more, to clear your innocence, my injured, worthy friend- SHAME. I fee her dear name at the bottom I fee that you have been far enough from defigning any obstacle to my happiness, while I have been treating my benefactor as my betrayer-0 Bevil, with what CONFUSION. words fhall I—


Bev. There is no need of words. To convince BENEV. is more than to conquer. If you are but fatisfied,

that I meant you no wrong, all is as it should be.

Myrt. But can you — forgive- -fuch mad- ANGUISH. ness?



Bev. Have not I myself offended? I had almoft BENEV. been as guilty as you, though I had the advantage FRGIV. of you, by knowing what you did not know.

Myrt. That I should be fuch a precipitate ANGUISH. wretch?

Bev. Prithee no more.




Myrt. How many friends have died by the hand SELFof friends, merely for want of temper! What do I CONGRAT. not owe to your fuperiority of understanding? What HORROR. a precipice have I efcaped! O my friend - Can you ever----forgive----Can you ever again look INTREAT. upon me---with an eye of favour?



2 In reading the letter, the countenance of Myrtle ought to quit, by degrees, the look of anger, and to pafs to those marked on the margin.










Bev. Why fhould I not? Any man may miftake. Any man may be violent, where his love is concerned. I was myself.


Myrt. O Bevil! You are capable of all that great, all that is beroic.

[Enter a fervant to Bevil, and gives a letter.



From Mr. Pope's MORAL ESSAYS. [Epift. III.]


HERE London's column, pointing to
the skies,

Like a tall bully, lifts its head, and lies,
There dwelt a citizen of fober fame,

Apain, good man, and Balaam was his name ;
Religious, punctual, frugal, and fo forth;

His word would pass for more than he was worth.
One folid difb his week-day meal affords;
An added pudding folemniz'd the Lord's.
Conftant at church, and change. His gains were fure,
His givings rare, fave farthings to the poor.

The Dev'l was piq'd fuch faintship to behold,
And long'd to tempt him, like good job of old;
But Satan now is wiser than of yore,

And tempts by making rich; not making poor.

Rous'd by the prince of air, the whirlwinds fweep The furge, and plunge his father in the deep;

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Then full against his Cornish lands they roar;
And two rich shipwrecks blefs the lucky fhere.

Sir Balaam now! He lives like other folks ;
He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes.
"Live like yourself;" was foon my lady's word;
And lo! two puddings smok'd upon the board.
Afleep, and naked, as an Indian lay,
An boneft factor ftole a gem away;
And pledg'd it to our knight. Our knight had wit;
He kept the di'mond, and the rogue was bit.
Some fcruple rofe. But thus he eas'd his thought;
"I'll now give fix-pence, where I gave a great;
"Where once I went to church, I'll now go twice,
"And am fo clear, too, of all other vice."






The tempter faw his time; the work he ply'd; CRAFT.

Stocks and fubfcriptions pour on ev'ry fide;
Till all the demon makes his full defcent,
In one abundant fhow'r of cent per cent;
Sinks deep within him, and poffeffes whole ;
Then dubs director, and fecures his soul.

Behold! Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit,
Afcribes his gettings to his parts and merit.
What late he call'd a bleffing, now was wit,
And God's good providence, a lucky bit.
Things change their titles, as our manners turn ;
His compting-boufe employs the Sunday-morn.
Seldom at church, ('twas fuch a busy life)
But duly fent his family and wife.

There (to the Dev'l ordain'd) one Christmas-tide
My good old lady caught a cold, and dy d.






A nymph

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