Stu. To vent your curses on—You have bestowed them liberally. Take your own counsel: and should a desperate hope present itself, 'twill suit your desperate fortune. I'll not advise you.
Bev. What hope? By heaven! I'll catch at it, however desperate. I am so sunk in misery, it cannot lay me lower.
Stu. You have an uncle.
Bev. Ay. What of Him?
Stu. Old men live long by temperance; while their heirs starve on expectation.
Bev. What mean you?
Stu. That the reversion's yours; and will bring money to pay debts with—nay, more; it may retrieve what's past.
Bev. Or leave my child a beggar.
Stu. And what's his father? A dishonourable one; engaged for sums, he cannot pay. That should be thought of.
Bev. It is my shame; the poison that inflames me. Where shall we go? To whom? I am impatient till all's lost.