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and may it wring thy heart, that altho' my friend is ruin'd by thy snares, yet as a brother to poor Beverly, I will pursue the robber that has stripped 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, that hand that has supplied him shall fall and crush him.
Lew. Why, now there's a 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 Beverly shall yet be saved; be saved from thee, thou monster! nor owe his rescue to his wife's dishonour.
LEW SON AND BEVERLY.
Bev. So I have heard, Sir ; and now must thank you as I ought.
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, that high demeanor, that was to call me to an 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 speaks vile calumny abroad, and dreads, just vengeance on him, cries out, “ What mean you? I understand you not."
Lew. Coward and calumny! whence are those 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 who dares ac
Bev. I thought you brave, and of a soul superior to low malice ; but I have found you, and will have ven. geance. 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. Bat 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 them. Your zeal is troublesome.
Lew. No matter, it shall be useful.
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 talk'd of every where. It pleased you to add threats, too. You were to call me to an account-Why, do it now, then ; I shall be proud of such an arbiter.
Lew. Put up your sword, and know me better. I have 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 twoHe fears discovery, and frames a tale of falsehood to ground revenge and murder on.
Bev. I must have proof of this.
Lew. I go to serve you. Forget what's past, as I do ; and cheer your family with smiles.
To-morrow may confirin them, and make all happy.
(Exit. ) Bev. (pausing.) How vile, and how absurd is man ! This 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 my nature was so bad. (Stands musing.)
THE Compiler has selected such pieces of poetry as, in his opinion, afford many op portunities for the scholar to exert his talents to advantage. A reader of nice and delicate discrimination will readily perceive in every poetical coinposition, however trilling, several situations wherein he may afford amusement, and produce astonishing effects on the minds of his hearers. In the delivery of some passages, so much depends upon such a nicety of expression, look, and manner, in the reader, that it will be impossible to point out the exact method. Graces, like these, which give the greatest beauty to a poem, can not be reduced to any precise rules; but must be left to the discriminating taste and pwers of the reader to find out; and the occasional reinarks added to each piece, iç is presumed, will greatly assist him in the research.
THE OLD BEGGAR OF CUMBERLAND.
I SAW an aged beggar in my walk,
But still, when he has given his horse the rein,
He travels on, a solitary man;
age has no companion. On the ground
And while, in that vast solitude to which
Within my breast may peace a dwelling find;
HOW TO READ COLLINS' ODE ON THE PASSIONS. A p'ece of poetry, better adapted to the practice of reading than the following, cannot be recommended to the scholar. If read with propriery, it will soon correct the monotonist of that sumeness of tone, which so disgusts in most common readers, and with which no person can ever reasonably expect to give pleasure to those wbw are so unfortunate as to be his hearerse
WHEN Music, beav'nly maid (1) was young,
(1) Read the words marked in an impressive manner.