The Gamester (1753). Edward Moore
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vice of gaming! But methinks his usual hours of four or five in the morning might have contented him; 'twas misery enough to wake for him till then: need he have staid out all night? I shall learn to detest him.
Mrs. Bev. 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. Bev. 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. Bev. 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 needy peasant, 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 having 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! O! I have no patience! My own little fortune is untouched, he says: would I were sure on't!
Mrs. Bev. 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't.
Mrs. Bev. What occasion?
Char. To support a sister.
Mrs. Bev. No; I have no need on't. Take it, and reward a lover with it. The generous Lewson deserves much more. Why won't you make him happy?
Char. Because my sister's miserable.
Mrs. Bev. You must not think so. I have my jewels left yet. I'll sell them to supply our wants; 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. Bev. 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. Bev. Ay, Charlotte, could we cure him. But the disease of play admits no cure but poverty; and the loss of another fortune would but encrease 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. Bev. Not of treachery to your Brother? That he loves play I know; but surely he is honest.
Char. He would fain be thought so; therefore I doubt him. Honesty needs no pains to set itself off.
Mrs. Bev. What now, Lucy?
SCENE II.
Enter Lucy.
Lucy. Your old steward, madam. I had not the heart to deny him admittance, the good old man begged so hard for it.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
Enter Jarvis.
Mrs. Bev. Is this well, Jarvis? I desired you to avoid me.
Jar. Did you, madam? I am an old man, and had forgot. Perhaps too you forbad my tears; but I am old, madam, and age will be forgetful.
Mrs. Bev. The faithful creature! how he moves me!
[To Charlotte.
Char. Not to have seen him had been cruelty.
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. Bev. 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. Bev. I know it, I know it, Jarvis.
Char. We both know it.
Jar. I am an old man, madam, and have not a long time to live. I asked but to have died with him, and he dismissed me.
Mrs. Bev. Prithee no more of this! 'Twas his poverty that dismissed you.
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 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 shan't be poor, Jarvis; if I was a king, nobody should be poor. Yet He is poor. And then he was so brave!—O, he was a brave little boy! And yet so merciful, he'd not have killed the gnat that stung him.
Mrs. Bev. Speak to him, Charlotte; for I cannot.
Char. When I have wiped my eyes.
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. Bev. No, Jarvis; we have enough yet. I thank you though, and 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 expence to him: and 'twill kill me to be refused. Where is he, madam?
Mrs. Bev. Not at home, Jarvis. You shall see him another time.
Char. To-morrow, or the next day. O, Jarvis! what a change is here!
Jar. A change indeed, madam! My old heart akes at it. And yet methinks—But here's somebody coming.
SCENE IV.
Enter Lucy with Stukely.
Lucy. Mr. Stukely, Madam.
[Exit.
Stu. Good morning to you, Ladies. Mr. Jarvis, your servant. Where's my friend, madam?
[To Mrs. Beverley.
Mrs. Bev. I should have asked that question of You. Have not you seen him to-day?
Stu. No, madam.
Char. Nor last night?
Stu. Last night! Did not he come home then?
Mrs. Bev. No. Were not you together?
Stu. 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 this madness of gaming?
Stu. 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. Bev. I don't doubt it, Sir;