_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.