) Poor Mrs. Beverley! How my heart grieves to see her thus!
Char. Cure her, and be a friend then.
Stu. How cure her, madam?
Char. Reclaim my brother.
Stu. Ay; give him a new creation; or breathe another soul into him. I'll think on't, madam. Advice, I see, is thankless.
Char. Useless I am sure it is, if through mistaken friendship, or other motives, you feed his passion with your purse, and sooth it by example. Physicians, to cure fevers, keep from the patient's thirsty lip the cup that would inflame him; You give it to his hands. (A knocking.) Hark, Sir! These are my brother's desperate symptoms. Another creditor.
Stu. One not so easily got rid of—What, Lewson!
SCENE VI.
Enter Lewson.
Lew. Madam, your servant. Yours, Sir. I was enquiring for you at your lodgings.