THE GAMESTER: A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. BY EDWARD MOORE. REMARKS. WHEN this tragedy was shown in manuscript to Dr. Young, he remarked, that "Gaming wanted such a caustic as the concluding scene presented." It is certainly the best drama produced by Mr. Moore; but, although its merits are considerable, the audience of 1753 did not bestow that perfect approbation it has since uniformly received. The language is nervous and pathetic; the plot artful, yet clearly conducted; and the catastrophe truly tragic. Beverley has been a successful character of several of our most eminent actors; of Garrick, Young, Kemble, &c.: the late Mr. John Palmer was so superior in Stukely, that the character is said to have died with him. Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'Neil have, also, acquired additional claims to the public regard in their delineation of the heroine. ACT I. SCENE I.-BEVERLEY'S Lodgings. MRS. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE discovered. Mrs. B. Be comforted, my dear, all may be well yet. And now, methinks, the lodging| begins to look with another face. Oh, 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. B. 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 subsistence and my husband's smiles, and I shall be the happiest of the poor. Why do you look at me? Char. That I may hate my brother. 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. Need he have staid out all night?—I shall learn to detest him. Mrs. B. 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 his affections too!-The time was, sister Mrs B. And is. I have no fear of his affections. 'Would I knew that he were safe! Char. From ruin and his companions. But that's impossible.-His poor little boy, too! what must become of him? Mrs. B. Why, want shall teach him industry. From his father's mistakes he shall learn prudence, and from his mother's resignation, patience. Poverty has no such terrors in it as you imagine. There's no condition of life, sickness and pain excepted, where happiness is excluded. The husbandman, who rises early to his labour, enjoys more welcome rest at night for't. His bread is sweeter to him; his home happier; his family dearer; his enjoyments surer. The sun, that rouses him in the morning, sets in the evening to release him. All situations have their comforts, if sweet contentment dwell in the heart. But my poor Beverley has none. The thought of hav Mrs. B. Pr'ythee, no more of this! 'Twas his poverty that dismissed you. ing ruined those he loves is misery for ever to him. Would I could ease his mind of that! Char. If he alone were ruined, 'twere just he should be punished. He is my brother, 'tis true; but when I think of what he has done of the fortune you brought him-of his own large estate too, squandered away upon this vilest of passions, and among the vilest of wretches oh, I have no patience!-My own little fortune is untouched, he says. 'Would I were sure on't. Mrs. B. And so you may-'twould be a sin to doubt it. Char. I will be sure on't-'twas madness in me to give it to his management. But I'll demand it from him this morning. I have a melancholy occasion for it. Mrs. B. What occasion? Mrs. B. No; I have no need on't. Take it, and reward a lover with it.-The generous Lewson deserves much more.-Why wont you make him happy? Char. Because my sister's miserable. Mrs. B. You must not think so. I have my jewels left yet. And when all's gone, these hands shall toil for our support. The poor should be industrious.-Why those tears, Charlotte? Char. They flow in pity for you. Mrs. B. All may be well yet. When he has nothing to lose, I shall fetter him in these arms again and then what is it to be poor? Char. Cure him but of this destructive passion, and my uncle's death may retrieve all yet. Mrs. B. Ay, Charlotte, could we cure him! -But the disease of play admits no cure but poverty; and the loss of another fortune would but increase his shame and his affliction.-Will Mr. Lewson call this morning? Char. He said so last night. He gave me hints, too, that he had suspicions of our friend Stukely. Mrs. B. Not of treachery to my husband? That he loves play I know, but surely he's honest. Char. He would fain be thought so ;-therefore I doubt him. Honesty needs no pains to set itself off. Enter LUCY. Lucy. Your old steward, Madam. I had not the heart to deny him admittance, the good old man begged so hard for't. [Exit. Enter JARVIS. Mrs. B. Is this well, Jarvis? I desired you to avoid me. Jur. Did you, Madam? I am an old man, and had forgot. Perhaps, too, you forbade my tears; but I am old, Madam, and age will be forgetful. me! Mrs. B. The faithful creature! how he moves [To CHARLOTTE. Jar. I have forgot these apartments too. I remember none such in my young master's house; and yet I have lived in't these five and twenty years. His good father would not have dismissed me. Mrs. B. He had no reason, Jarvis. Jar. I was faithful to him while he lived, and when he died he bequeathed me to his son. I have been faithful to him too. Mrs. B. I know it, I know it, Jarvis. Jar. I have not a long time to live. I asked but to have died with him, and he dismissed me. Jar. Is he indeed so poor, then?-Oh! he was the joy of my old heart-But must his creditors have all?-And have they sold his house too? His father built it when he was but a prating boy. The times that I have carried him in these arms! And, Jarvis, says he, when a beggar has asked charity of me, why should people be poor? You sha'n't be poor, Jarvis; if I were a king, nobody should be poor. Yet he is poor. And then he was so brave!-Oh, he was a brave little boy! and yet so merciful, he'd not have killed the gnat that stung him. Mrs. B. Speak to him, Charlotte, for I can not. Jar. I have a little money, Madam; it might have been more, but I have loved the poor. All that I have is yours. Mrs. B. No, Jarvis; we have enough yet. I thank you though, and I will deserve your goodness. Jar. But shall I see my master? And will he let me attend him in his distresses? I'll be no expense to him; and 'twill kill me to be refused.-Where is he, Madam? Mrs. B. Not at home, Jarvis. You shall see him another time. Char. To-morrow, or the next day-Oh, Jarvis! what a change is here! Jar. A change indeed, Madam! my old heart aches at it. And yet, methinks-But here's somebody coming. Re-enter LUCY, with STUKELY. Lucy. Mr. Stukely, Madam. [Exit. Stuke. Good morning to you, ladies. Mr. Jarvis, your servant. Where's my friend Madam? [To MRS. BEVERLEY. Mrs. B. I should have asked that question of you. Have you seen him to-day? Stuke. No, Madam. Char. Nor last night? Stuke. Last night! did he not come home then? Mrs. B. No.-Were you not together? Stuke. At the beginning of the evening, but not since. Where can he have staid? Char. You call yourself his friend, Sir-why do you encourage him in his madness of gaming? Stuke. You have asked me that question before, Madam; and I told you my concern was that I could not save him; Mr. Beverley is a man, Madam; and if the most friendly entreaties have no effect upon him, I have no other means. My purse has been his, even to the injury of my fortune. If that has been encouragement, I deserve censure; but I meant it to retrieve him. Mrs. B. I don't doubt it, Sir, and I thank you-But where did you leave him last night? Stuke. At Wilson's, Madam, if I ought to tell, in company I did not like. Possibly he may be there still. Mr. Jarvis knows the house, I believe. Jar. Shall I go, Madam? Mrs. B. No; he may take it ill. Stuke. And if he pleases, Madam, without naming me. I am faulty myself, and should conceal the errors of a friend. But I can refuse nothing here. [Bowing to the ladies. Jar. I would fain see him, methinks. Mrs. B. Do so then, but take care how you upbraid him--I have never upbraided him. Jar. 'Would I could bring him comfort! [Exit. Stuke. Don't be too much alarmed, Madam. All men have their errors, and their times of seeing them. Perhaps my friend's time is not come yet. But he has an uncle; and old men don't live for ever. You should look forward, Madam; we are taught how to value a second fortune by the loss of the first. [Knocking at the door. Mrs. B. Hark!-No-that knocking was too rude for Mr. Beverley. Pray heaven he be well! Stuke. Never doubt it, Madam. You shall be well too-Every thing shall be well. [Knocking again. Mrs. B. The knocking is a little loud though -Who waits there? Will none of you answer? -None of you, did I say?-Alas, what was I thinking of! I had forgot myself. So. Char. I'll go, sister-but don't be alarmed [Exit. Stuke. What extraordinary accident have you to fear, Madam? Mrs. B. I beg your pardon; but 'tis ever thus with me in Mr. Beverley's absence. No one knocks at the door, but I fancy it is a messenger of ill news. Stuke. You are too fearful, Madam; 'twas but one night of absence; and if ill thoughts intrude (as love is always doubtful,) think of your worth and beauty, and drive them from your breast. Mrs. B. What thoughts? I have no thoughts that wrong my husband. Stuke. Such thoughts indeed would wrong him. The world is full of slander; and every wretch that knows himself unjust, charges his neighbour with like passions; and by the general frailty hides his own-If you are wise, and would be happy, turn a deaf ear to such reports. "Tis ruin to believe them. Mrs. B. Ay, worse than ruin. "Twould be to sin against conviction. Why was it mentioned? The Stuke. To guard you against rumour. sport of half mankind is mischief; and for a single error they make men devils; if their tales reach you, disbelieve them. Mrs. B. What tales? by whom? why told? I have heard nothing-or, if I had, with all his errors, my Beverley's firm faith admits no doubt-It is my safety, my seat of rest and joy, while the storm threatens round me. I'll not forsake it. [STUKELY sighs, and looks down.] Why turn you, Sir, away? and why that sigh? Stuke. I was attentive, Madam; and sighs will come, we know not why. Perhaps I have been too busy-If it should seem so, impute my zeal to friendship, that meant to guard you against evil tongues. Your Beverley is wronged, slandered most vilely-My life upon his truth. Mrs. B. And mine too. Who is't that doubts it? but no matter-I am prepared, Sir -Yet why this caution?-You are my husband's friend; I think you mine too; the common friend of both. [Pauses.] I had been unconcerned else. Stuke. For Heaven's sake, Madam, be so still! I meant to guard you against suspicion, not to alarm it. Mrs. B. Nor have you, Sir. Who told you of suspicion? I have a heart it cannot reach. Stuke. Then I am happy-I would say more -but am prevented. Enter CHARLotte. Char. What a heart has that Jarvis !-A creditor sister. But the good old man has taken him away-" Don't distress his wifedon't distress his sister," I could hear him ""Tis cruel to distress the afflicted.' And when he saw me at the door, he begged pardon that his friend had knocked so loud. Was it say. Stuke. I wish I had known of this. a large demand, Madam? Char. I heard not that; but visits such as these we must expect often-Why so distressed, sister? This is no new affliction. Mrs. B. No, Charlotte; but I am faint with watching quite sunk and spiritless-Will you excuse me, Sir? I'll to my chamber, and try to rest a little. [Exit. Stuke. Good thoughts go with you, Madam. My bait has taken then. [Aside.]-poor Mrs. Beverley! How my heart grieves to see her thus! Char. Cure her, and be a friend then. Stuke. 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 tor! Another credi Stuke. One not so easily got rid of-What, Lewson! Enter LEWSON. Lew. Madam, your servant- -Yours, Sir. I was inquiring for you at your lodgings. Stuke. This morning! You had business then? Lew. You'll call it by another name, perhaps. Where's Mr. Beverley, Madam? Char. We have sent to inquire for him. Lew. Is he abroad then? he did not use to go out so early. Char. No, nor stay out so late. Lew. Is that the case? I am sorry for it. But Mr. Stukely, perhaps, may direct you to him. Stuke. I have already, Sir. But what was your business with me? you are Lew. To congratulate you upon your late But success at play. Poor Beverley his friend; and there's a comfort in having successful friends. Stuke. And what am I to understand by this? Lew. That Beverley's a poor man, with a rich friend; that's all. Stuke. Your words would mean something, I suppose. Another time, Sir, I shall desire an explanation. Lew. And why not now? I am no dealer in A minute or two will do for long sentences. 474 THE GAMESTER. Char. What mean you by this? Lew. I shall have proof soon. Lew. My life, Madam! Don't be afraid. Char. And what do you intend to do? Lew. Nothing, till I have proof. But methinks, Madam, I am acting here without authority. Could I have leave to call Mr. Beverley brother, his concerns would be my own. Why will you make my services appear officious? Char. You know my reasons, and should not press me. But I am cold, you say; and cold will be, while a poor sister's destitute. -But let us change this subject: your business here this morning is with my sister. Misfortunes press too hard upon her; yet, till to-day, she has borne them nobly. Lew. Where is she? Char. Gone to her chamber. Her spirits failed her. Lew. I hear her coming. Let what has passed with Stukely be a secret. She has already too much to trouble her. Enter MRS. Beverley. Mrs. B. Good morning, Sir; I heard your voice, and, as I thought, inquiring for me. Where's Mr. Stukely, Charlotte? Char. This moment gone. You have been in tears, sister; but here's a friend shall comfort you. Lew. Or, if I add to your distresses, I'll beg your pardon, Madam. The sale of your house and furniture was finished yesterday. Mrs. B. I know it, Sir. I know too your generous reason for putting me in mind of it. But you have obliged me too much already. Lew. There are trifles, Madam, which I know you have set a value on: those I have purchased, and will deliver; I have a friend too that esteems you. He has bought largely; and will call nothing his, till he has seen you. If a visit to him would not be painful, he has begged it may be this morning. Mrs. B. Not painful in the least: my pain is from the kindness of my friends. Why am I to be obliged beyond the power of return? Lew. You shall repay us at your own time. I have a coach waiting at the door. Shall we have your company, Madam? Char. No: my brother may return soon. [To CHARLOTTE. I'll stay and receive him. Mrs. B. He may want a comforter, perhaps. But don't upbraid him, Charlotte. We sha'n't be absent long. Come, Sir, since I must be so obliged. [ACTI But I am rich, it seems, and so I am;To what use is wisdom, but to take advantage thanks to another's folly and my own wisdom. of the weak? This Beverley's my fool; business must be done yet. cheat him, and he calls me friend. But more uncle's estate. I must have these too. And jewels are unsold: so is the reversion of his His wife's then there's a treasure above all-I love his wife. Before she knew this Beverley I loved her; but, like a cringing fool, bowed at a Never, never, will I forgive him for it. Those distance, while he stepped in and won herhints, this morning, were well thrown inAlready they have fastened on her. If jealousy should weaken her affections, want may corrupt her virtue-These jewels may do when mine, shall be converted to special purmuch. He shall demand them of her; which, poses. Enter BATES. What now, Bates? Bates. Is it a wonder then to see me? The forces are all in readiness, and only wait for orders. Where's Beverley? Stuke. At last night's rendezvous, waiting for me. Is Dawson with you? ney in his pocket, and a set of dice that shall Bates. Dressed like a nobleman; with modeceive the devil. Stuke. That fellow has a head to undo a nanered, ill-looking dogs, I wonder Beverley tion: but, for the rest, they are such low-manhas not suspected them. Do you supply them with money, and they Bates. No matter for manners and looks. are gentlemen by profession. The passion of the nobleman shall be surrounded with sharpgaming casts such a mist before the eyes, that ers, and imagine himself in the best company. he, I suppose, that called at Beverley's, with Did not you see him? vis. Had he appeared within doors, as di- Bates. What answer did you make him? Bates. We must take care of him. But what have we to do with Beverley?-Dawson and the rest are wondering at you. Stuke. Why, let them wonder: I have delend him money, and they stare at me. signs above their narrow reach. They see me they are fools. I want him to believe me beggared by him. But Bates. And what then? Lew. 'Tis I that am obliged. An hour, or less, will be sufficient for us. you at home, Madam? We shall find ter: at night you may know more. Stuke. Ay, there's the question; but no mat[To CHARLOTTE; exit with MRS. B. to find him. for me at Wilson's.-I told the women where He waits Char. Certainly. [Exit. SCENE 11.-STUKELY's Lodgings. Stuke. That Lewson suspects me, 'tis too plain. Yet why should he suspect me? I appear the friend of Beverley, as much as he. Bates. To what purpose? Stuke. To save suspicion. It looked friendly, and they thanked me.-Old Jarvis was despatched to him. Bates. And may entreat him home I'll have none. His wife's jewels must go.- where they love. Follow to Wilson's-Come, | I was born to infamy. I'll tell thee what it Sir. Let drudging fools by honesty grow great; ACT II. SCENE I-A Gaming-house, with a Table, BEVERLEY discovered, sitting. Bev. Why, what a world is this! The slave that digs for gold receives his daily pittance, and sleeps contented; while those, for whom he labours, convert their good to mischief, making abundance the means of want. What had I to do with play? I wanted nothing.My wishes and my means were equal.-The poor followed me with blessing, love scattered roses on my pillow, and morning waked me to delight. Oh, bitter thought, that leads to what I was, by what I am! I would forget both.-. Who's there? Ber. It is. I would be private-hid even from myself. Who sent you hither? Jar. One that would persuade you home again. My mistress is not well; her tears told me so. Bev. Go with thy duty there then.-Pr'ythee, begone; I have no business for thee. says. It calls me villain; a treacherous husband; a cruel father; a false brother; one lost to nature and her charities: or, to say all in one short word, it calls me-gamester. Go to thy mistress, I'll see her presently. Jar. And why not now? Rude people press upon her; loud bawling creditors; wretches who know no pity. I met one at the door; he would have seen my mistress. I wanted means of present payment, so promised it to-morrow. But others may be pressing; and she has grief enough already. Your absence hangs too heavy on her. Bev. Tell her I'll come then. I have a moment's business. But what hast thou to do with my distresses? thy honesty has left thee poor, and age wants comfort.-Keep what thou hast; lest, between thee and the grave, misery steal in. I have a friend shall counsel me.This is that friend. Enter STUKELY. Stuke. How fares it, Beverley? Honest Mr. Jarvis, well met. That viper, Williams! was it not he that troubled you this morning? Jur. My mistress heard him, then; I am sorry that she heard him. Bev. And Jarvis promised payment. Stuke. That must not be.-Tell him I'll satisfy him. Jar. Will you, Sir? Heaven will reward you for it. Bev. Generous Stukely! Friendship like yours, had it ability like will, would more than balance the wrongs of fortune. Stuke. You think too kindly of me.-Make haste to Williams; his clamours may be rude else. [TO JARVIS. Jar. And my master will go home again.Alas! Sir, we know of hearts there breaking [Exit. for his absence. Bev. Would I were dead! Stuke. Ha, ha, ha! Pr'ythee, be a man, and leave dying to disease and old age.-Fortune may be ours again; at least we'll try for't. Bev. No; it has fooled us on too far. Stuke. Ay, ruined us; and therefore we'll Jar. Yes, Sir; to lead you from this place. sit down contented. These are the despondI am your servant still. Your prosperous for-ings of men without money; but let the shintune blessed my old age. If that has left you, I must not leave you. Bev. Not leave me !-Recall past time then; or, through this sea of storms and darkness, show me a star to guide me.-But what canst thou? Jar. The little that I can, I will. You have been generous to me-I would not offend you, Sir, but ing ore chink in the pocket, and folly turns to wisdom. We are fortune's children.-True, she's a fickle mother; but shall we droop because she's peevish?—No; she has smiles in store, and these her frowns are meant to brighten them. Bev. Is this a time for levity ?-But you are single in the ruin, and therefore may talk lightly of it; with me 'tis complicated misery. Stuke. You censure me unjustly; I but assumed these spirits to cheer my friend: Heaven knows, he wants a comforter. Bev. What new misfortune? Bev. No: think'st thou I'd ruin thee, too? I have enough of shame already.-My wife! my wife!-Wouldst thou believe it, Jarvis? I have not seen her all this long night-I, who Stuke. I would have brought you money; have loved her so, that every hour of absence seemed as a gap in life. But other bonds have but lenders want securities. What's to be held me.-Oh! I have played the boy! drop-done?-All that was mine is yours already. ping my counters in the stream, and reaching to redeem them, lost myself! Jar. For pity's sake, Sir !I have no heart to see this change. Bev. Nor I to bear it.- -How speaks the world of me, Jarvis? Jar. As of a good man dead. Of one who, walking in a dream, fell down a precipice. The world is sorry for you. Bev. Ay, and pities me-Says it not so? But Bev. And there's the double weight that sinks me. I have undone my friend too: one who, to save a drowning wretch, reached out his hand, and perished with him. Stuke. Have better thoughts. Bev. Whence are they to proceed? I have nothing left. Stuke. [Sighing.] Then we're indeed undone. What, nothing? no moveables, nor useless trinkets? baubles locked up in caskets |