The Gamester (1753)

_Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, and CHARLOTTE._

_Mrs. Bev._ Where is he? (_Runs and embraces him_) O, I have him! I have him! And now they shall never part us more! I have news, love, to make you happy for ever--but don't look coldly on me.

_Char._ How is it, brother?

_Mrs. Bev._ Alas! he hears us not. Speak to me, love. I have no heart to see you thus.

_Bev._ Nor I to bear the sense of so much shame. This is a sad place.

_Mrs. Bev._ We come to take you from it; to tell you that the world goes well again; that providence has seen our sorrows, and sent the means to heal them--Your uncle died yesterday.

_Bev._ My uncle!--No, do not say so--O! I am sick at heart!

_Mrs. Bev._ Indeed!--I meant to bring you comfort. _Bev._ Tell me he lives then--If you would give me comfort, tell me he lives.

_Mrs. Bev._ And if I did, I have no power to raise the dead. He died yesterday.

_Bev._ And I am heir to him?

_Jar._ To his whole estate, Sir--But bear it patiently.

_Bev._ Well, well--(_Pausing_) Why, fame says I am rich then?

_Mrs. Bev._ And truly so--Why do you look so wildly?

_Bev._ Do I? The news was unexpected. But has he left me all?

_Jar._ All, all, Sir--He could not leave it from you.

_Bev._ I'm sorry for it.

_Char._ Sorry! Why sorry?

_Bev._ Your uncle's dead, Charlotte.

_Char._ Peace be with his soul then. Is it so terrible that an old man should die?

_Bev._ He should have been immortal.

_Mrs. Bev._ Heaven knows I wished not for his death. 'Twas the will of providence that he should die. Why are you disturbed so?

_Bev._ Has death no terrors in it?

_Mrs. Bev._ Not an old man's death. Yet if it troubles you, I wish him living.

_Bev._ And I, with all my heart.

_Char._ Why, what's the matter?

_Bev._ Nothing. How heard you of his death?

_Mrs. Bev._ His steward came express. Would I had never known it!

_Bev._ Or had heard it one day sooner--For I have a tale to tell, shall turn you into stone; or if the power of speech, remain, you shall kneel down and curse me.

_Mrs. Bev._ Alas! what tale is this? And why are we to curse you? I'll bless you for ever.

_Bev._ No; I have deserved no blessings. The world holds not such another wretch. All this large fortune, this second bounty of heaven, that might have healed our sorrows, and satisfied our utmost hopes, in a curst hour I sold last night.

_Char._ Sold! How sold?

_Mrs. Bev._ Impossible! It cannot be!

_Bev._ That devil Stukely, with all hell to aid him, tempted me to the deed. To pay false debts of honour, and to redeem past errors, I sold the reversion--sold it for a scanty sum, and lost it among villains.

_Char._ Why, farewel all then.

_Bev._ Liberty and life. Come, kneel and curse me.

_Mrs. Bev._ Then hear me heaven! (_Kneels_) Look down with mercy on his sorrows! Give softness to his looks, and quiet to his heart! Take from his memory the sense of what is past, and cure him of despair! On Me, on Me, if misery must be the lot of either, multiply misfortunes! I'll bear them patiently, so He is happy! These hands shall toil for his support! These eyes be lifted up for hourly blessings on him! And every duty of a fond and faithful wife, be doubly done to chear and comfort him!--So hear me! so reward me! [_Rises_.

_Bev._ I would kneel too, but that offended heaven would turn my prayers to curses. What have I to ask for? I, who have shook hands with hope? Is it for length of days that I should kneel? No; My time is limited. Or is it for this world's blessings upon You and Yours? To pour out my heart in wishes for a ruined wife, a child and sister? O! no! For I have done a deed to make you miserable.

_Mrs. Bev._ Why miserable? Is poverty so miserable?--The real wants of life are few: a little industry will supply them all; and chearfulness will follow. It is the privilege of honest industry; and we'll enjoy it fully.

_Bev._ Never, never! O, I have told you but in part. The irrevocable deed is done.

_Mrs. Bev._ What deed? And why do you look so at me?

_Bev._ A deed, that dooms my soul to vengeance; that seals Your misery here, and Mine hereafter.

_Mrs. Bev._ No, no; You have a heart too good for't-- Alas! he raves, Charlotte--his looks too terrify me--Speak comfort to him--He can have done no deed of wickedness.

_Char._ And yet I fear the worst. What is it, brother?

_Bev._ A deed of horror.

_Jar._ Ask him no questions, madam. This last misfortune has hurt his brain. A little time will give him patience.