The Female Gamester: A Tragedy Part 12

Away to distant regions; seek improvement; There is no love that absence cannot cure.

Lord WESTON. Absence!--No death transcends that thought.--O sir!

My fondness is to such excess, so true, That were heav'n's bliss a.s.sur'd me to forsake her, My soul might tremble for its own resolve.

But what would worlds be worth with loss of honour!

With loss of peace, its constant sure attendant!

Lord BELMOUR. Since then all soothing arguments are fruitless; 'Tis fit t' apprize you that you yet remain Under my wards.h.i.+p by your father's will; And now to wed would be by law a nullity.

Lord WESTON. Unrighteous, partial law! whose keen restraint 'Gainst female innocence alone is pointed, Whilst villains riot in its spoils unpunish'd; So that love's chaste, connubial joys no more, On its fleet wings, but in the tardy pace Of sordid interest move. But, thank kind heaven!

My will is free to choose; else, my good lord, The parish proofs deceive.

Lord BELMOUR. Perish all love!

That one of the first families in Britain, Shou'd by such whims of folly be dishonour'd!

A moment more, and I shall lose all patience! [He goes off hastily.]

Lord WESTON. It grieves my soul that we should differ thus: He still has acted as a tender parent To me an orphan to his care intrusted.

But pride and pageantry engross him wholly; With these, an avaricious selfish pa.s.sion, For some years past hath quite possess'd his heart, And stagnated the streams of its benevolence, Save where by humour, or by pleasure prompted.

But no mean views shall ever make me fight The sacred vows of love I once did plight.

The heart that's true, will still remain the same Though crosses press, they but refine the flame And more sure joys the virtuous pa.s.sion wait With calm content, than with the pomp of state. [Exit.]

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A room in Mr. GOODWIN's house.

GOODWIN and WILSON.

WILSON. This letter just now brought from our friend Andrews, Is superscrib'd to me, and yet most surely, By its contents, it was design'd for you. [Gives him the letter, which he reads.]

GOODWIN. What proof this of his sad distracted state!

Nor wonder; his distress encreases hourly.

Midst which, one of his s.h.i.+ps, it is reported, with a rich cargo, fraught from India's sh.o.r.es, Was lately wreek'd; and that by some neglect, It had not been insur'd.--'Tis rumour'd too, That some of his acceptances are noted.

WILSON. Most true, I have myself paid several; The just return to him, who, from his friends, His purse on like occasion ne'er with-held.

GOODWIN. His bosom glows with all the heav'nly feelings Of gen'rous amity and social love.

So boundless too, he cou'd not rest and know, That ev'n a worthy stranger felt distress.

Enter a SERVANT and delivers a letter to Mr. Goodwin, which he opens and peruses.

'Tis all a mystery; or perfect madness.

It can't be meant for me. [To the SERVANT.] Where got you this?

SERVANT. Your neighbour Andrews sent it to your house.

GOODWIN. Do you withdraw. [SERVANT withdraws.] I pray you hear it read. [Reads out.]

"That you are the blackest of all villains you must yourself admit. What, induce me to suspect my wife with another (as you did this morning) in order to carry on your own adulterous schemes? such an attempt against my honour, peace of mind, and all that is most dear to me! If you regard your safety you will be cautious of our meeting.

"James Andrews"

WILSON. Give me the letter, 'twas design'd for me.

Some like discourse as is in part there hinted, This morning pa.s.s'd between us--Give it, pray.

GOODWIN. 'Tis plain, two misdirections have been written; Yet, let me stipulate this one condition, That you command yourself; for 'twill require Your utmost fort.i.tude. [Gives the letter.]

WILSON. By heav'n! some stratagem, Of deep and black contrivance is on foot; For there's no mischief, but that artful woman Hath heart and head to scheme.

Enter a SERVANT.

SERVANT. [To GOODWIN.] Sir, your friend Andrews.

GOODWIN. [To WILSON.] And do you choose to meet him?

WILSON. Shou'd I shun him, It might induce him to conclude me guilty.

GOODWIN. [To his SERVANT.] You--conduct him hither. I dread the event. [SERVANT goes off.]

And yet well know your fort.i.tude and temper.

WILSON. Fear not.--I pity him; he's much disturb'd.

Enter Mr. ANDREWS.

ANDREWS. [To GOODWIN.] Did you receive some lines from me to-day?

GOODWIN. To my surprize I did, which I suppose By the contents were otherwise intended.

ANDREWS. Most strange mistake! I wrote them for that villain.

WILSON. Ha! villain in my teeth, what mean you, sir?

ANDREWS. Have you not wrong'd me? injur'd me most basely?

WILSON. Unhappy man! 'twas never in my thoughts.

ANDREWS. By heav'n, 'tis false! [To GOODWIN.] You have perus'd my letter.

GOODWIN. I have by accident, as I inform'd you.

ANDREWS. Is he not then the blackest of all villains?

WILSON. Licentious railer, cease your foul invective, Nor patience press too far: but for that amity, In which we've liv'd, I cou'd not have endur'd Ev'n half of this unmerited ill-treatment.

Again, I tell you, I'm an utter stranger To ev'ry charge in your impa.s.sion'd letter, Nor know I what it means.