_Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, and CHARLOTTE._

_Mrs. Beverley._ Be comforted, my dear; all may be well yet.
And now, methinks, the lodgings begin to look with another face.
O sister! sister! if these were all my hardships; if all I had
to complain of were no more than quitting my house, servants,
equipage and show, your pity would be weakness.

_Char._ Is poverty nothing then?

_Mrs. Bev._ Nothing in the world, if it affected only Me. While we
had a fortune, I was the happiest of the rich: and now 'tis gone,
give me but a bare subsistance, and my husband's smiles, and I'll be
the happiest of the poor. To Me now these lodgings want nothing but
their master. Why d'you look so at me?

_Char._ That I may hate my brother.

_Mrs. Bev._ Don't talk so, Charlotte.

_Char._ Has he not undone you? Oh! this pernicious vice of gaming!
But methinks his usual hours of four or five in the morning might
have contented him; 'twas misery enough to wake for him till then:
need he have staid out all night? I shall learn to detest him.

_Mrs. Bev._ Not for the first fault. He never slept from me
before.

_Char._ Slept from you! No, no; his nights have nothing to do with
sleep. How has this one vice driven him from every virtue! nay, from