Few of her sex possess superiour talents.

ANDREWS. Her temper is so chang'd, so sour'd of late,

Which with her sad misconduct still increases;
And she so prides herself on her alliances,
And the caresses of her vain associates,
That neither I, nor her neglected children,
Dare ev'n attempt the least discourse with her.
Did you know all, 'twould rend your tender heart. [He pauses
a while, then walks about much disturbed.]

WILSON. He has abundance more to hear of yet;
Two bills this very day, went off unpaid,
A stroke too fatal, e'er to be recover'd. [Aside.]
Affliction is heav'n's trial of our patience,
As of its love sure proof; and oft' our benefit.

ANDREWS. Can you continue friend to such lost fortune?

WILSON. How it would grieve me could you even doubt it!
The surest test of friendship is affliction.
'Tis then, the faithful heart displays itself,
Whilst vain professors vanish in the gloom.

ANDREWS. Tell me--Oh tell me! what would you advise?

WILSON. Against we meet on the Exchange to-day,
I will revolve it well.