_Mrs. Bev._ What tale? Say but he's well, and I have joy enough.

_Jar._ His mind too shall be well; all shalt be well--I have news
for him that shall make his poor heart bound again!--Fie upon old
age! how childish it makes me! I have a tale of joy for you, and my
tears drown it.

_Char._ Shed them in showers then, and make haste to tell it.

_Mrs. Bev._ What is it, Jarvis?

_Jar._ Yet why should I rejoice when a good man dies? Your uncle,
madam, died yesterday.

_Mrs. Bev._ My uncle!--O heavens!

_Char._ How heard you of his death?

_Jar._ His steward came express, madam: I met him in the street,
enquiring for your lodgings. I should not rejoice, perhaps; but he
was old, and my poor master a prisoner--Now he shall live again--O,
'tis a brave fortune! and 'twas death to me to see him a prisoner.

_Char._ Where left you the steward?

_Jar._ I would not bring him hither, to be a witness of your
distresses--and besides, I wanted once before I die, to be the
messenger of joy t'you. My good master will be a man again.

_Mrs. Bev._ Haste, haste then; and let us fly to him!--We are