The Gamester (1753) Part 7

SCENE V.

_Enter BATES._

Look to your men, Bates; there's money stirring. We meet to-night upon this spot. Hasten and tell them so. Beverley calls upon me at my lodgings, and we return together. Hasten, I say; the rogues will scatter else.

_Bates._ Not till their leader bids them.

_Stu._ Come on then. Give them the word, and follow me; I must advise with you. This is a day of business.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE VI. _changes to _BEVERLEY'S_ lodgings_.

_Enter BEVERLEY, and CHARLOTTE._

_Char._ Your looks are changed too; there's wildness in them. My wretched sister! how will it grieve her to see you thus!

_Bev._ No, no; a little rest will ease me. And for your Lewson's kindness to her, it has my thanks: I have no more to give him.

_Char._ Yes; a sister and her fortune. I trifle with him; and he complains. My looks, he says, are cold upon him. He thinks too--

_Bev._ That I have _lost_ your fortune--He dares not think so.

_Char._ Nor does he--You are too quick at guessing. He cares not if you had. That care is mine. I lent it you to husband; and now I claim it.

_Bev._ You have suspicions then?

_Char._ Cure them, and give it me.

_Bev._ To stop a sister's chiding.

_Char._ To vindicate her brother.

_Bev._ How if he needs it not?

_Char._ I would fain hope so.

_Bev._ Ay, would and cannot. Leave it to time then; 'twill satisfy all doubts.

_Char._ Mine are already satisfied.

_Bev._ 'Tis well. And when the subject is renewed, speak to me like a sister, and I will answer like a brother.

_Char._ To tell me I'm a beggar. Why, tell it now. I that can bear the ruin of those dearer to me, the ruin of a sister and her infant, can bear that too.

_Bev._ No more of this--You wring my heart.

_Char._ Would that the misery were all your own! But innocence must suffer. Unthinking rioter! whose home was heaven to him: an angel dwelt there, and a little cherub, that crowned his days with blessings--How has he lost this heaven, to league with devils!

_Bev._ Forbear, I say; reproaches come too late; they search, but cure not. And for the fortune you demand, we'll talk to-morrow on't; our tempers may be milder.

_Char._ Or if 'tis gone, why, farewel all. I claimed it for a sister. She holds my heart in hers; and every pang She feels, tears it in pieces--But I'll upbraid no more. What heaven permits, it may ordain; and sorrow then is sinful. Yet that the husband! father!

brother! should be its instrument of vengeance!--'Tis grievous to know that.

_Bev._ If you're my sister, spare the remembrance--It wounds too deeply. To-morrow shall clear all; and when the worst is known, it may be better than your fears. Comfort my wife; and for the pains of absence, I'll make atonement. The world may yet go well with us.

_Char._ See where she comes!--Look chearfully upon her. Affections, such as hers, are prying; and lend those eyes that read the soul.

SCENE VII.

_Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, and LEWSON._

_Mrs. Bev._ My life!

_Bev._ My love! How fares it? I have been a truant husband.

_Mrs. Bev._ But we meet now, and that heals all. Doubts and alarms I have had; but in this dear embrace I bury and forget them. My friend here (_pointing to Lewson_) has been indeed a friend. Charlotte, 'tis You must thank him: your brother's thanks and mine are of too little value.

_Bev._ Yet what we have, we'll pay. I thank, you, Sir, and am obliged. I would say more, but that your goodness to the wife, upbraids the husband's follies. Had I been wise, She had not trespa.s.sed on your bounty.

_Lew._ Nor has she trespa.s.sed. The little I have done, acceptance over-pays.

_Char._ So friendship thinks--

_Mrs. Bev._ And doubles obligations, by striving to conceal them--We'll talk another time on't. You are too thoughtful, love.

_Bev._ No; I have reason for these thoughts.

_Char._ And hatred for the cause. Would you had that too!

_Bev._ I have. The cause was avarice.

_Char._ And who the tempter?

_Bev._ A ruined friend. Ruined by too much kindness,

_Lew._ Ay, worse than ruined; stabbed in his fame; mortally stabbed.

Riches can't cure him.

_Bev._ Or if they could, those I have drained him of. Something of this he hinted in the morning--that Lewson had suspicions of him--Why these suspicions?

[_Angrily._

_Lew._ At school we knew this Stukely. A cunning plodding boy he was, sordid and cruel. Slow at his talk, but quick at shifts and tricking. He schemed out mischief, that others might be punished; and would tell his tale with so much art, that for the lash he merited, rewards and praise were given him. Shew me a boy with such a mind, and time that ripens manhood in him, shall ripen vice too.

I'll prove him, and lay him open t'you. Till then be warned. I know him, and therefore shun him.

_Bev._ As I would those that wrong him. You are too busy, Sir.