The Female Gamester: A Tragedy - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
Her sorrows rend my heart.--Oh thou sweet penitent!
There's not an angel in the heav'nly mansions, That will not sue for thee.
Mrs. ANDREWS. Yet, there is something I would pet.i.tion as my last request-- Let me conjure thee then, most injur'd excellence!
By all the happy hours we liv'd together, Ere one infernal pa.s.sion seiz'd my heart!
Have pity on the harmless, dear-lov'd innocents, Whom I must leave amidst a cruel world!
And when you shall my rueful story tell, Be thus far kind, and say, as is the truth, Oh! say, she was not an adultress.
ANDREWS. I will, I'll speak thee as my soul conceives thee, Spotless, and free as Virtue's self from blemish.
Mrs. ANDREWS. Then, may with me, thy sorrows have an end!--
ANDREWS. Oh! canst thou then forgive my wild upbraiding?
Mrs. ANDREWS. I blame thee not--so let me be convey'd From thy dread presence, and this fatal spot: They are too much for weakness to endure.
ANDREWS. No, no, I'll watch thee whilst a single spark Of that lov'd life remains, and sooth thy woes.
Mrs. ANDREWS. Too kind!--Forbear!--Were your fond wish indulg'd, It would but add new weight to your afflictions.
Oh! agonizing thoughts!--Oh! my pour soul!--
ANDREWS. She droops; she dies--and oh! by saving me-- Physicians, surgeons, ev'ry help be sent for!--
Mrs. ANDREWS. 'Twere fruitless all unless their friendly aid Some balm could minister to deep despair-- Rage on, distress---haste, madness! quench my soul-- Hark! hark! that voice!------the door of mercy's clos'd--
ANDREWS. [To the attendants.] Straightaway, convey her hence to mine own chamber.
[She is carried off, and as he is following her, several bailiffs enter rudely with CONSTANTIA.]
CONSTANTIA. Protect my father, heav'n! undone--undone--
WILSON. What can these ruffians mean? whom do you seek?
Bailiff. He is our prisoner on several writs. [Pointing to Mr. ANDREWS]
ANDREWS. Ay, ay, come on--'Tis fit I shou'd be punish'd.
Take, drag me hence, ye ministers of justice!
Death, death, or madness only can relieve me.
GOODWIN. What is the whole demand?
Bailiff. Above four thousand?
WILSON. He shall not sink for that: I'll be his pledge.
ANDREWS. Most gen'rous, injur'd friend, this is too much.
GOODWIN. [To WILSON.] I'll join you in the bonds.--Prepare them, sirs. [To the bailiffs, who go off]
CONSTANTIA. Thanks, best of friends! but you shall never suffer.
My fortune, independent of my father, Far more than this for which you have engag'd, Shall be our pledg'd security.
ANDREWS. Daggers!------daggers!
Wasted--all wasted, in the general wreck. [Aside]
WILSON. 'Tis fit lord Weston should be straight appriz'd Of the sad fate of his unhappy uncle; These two nights past, since his return to town, He hath repos'd with me.
GOODWIN. I hear his voice.
Enter lord WESTON hastily.
Lord WESTON. Where, where's my father! take, O take your son!
And let me fly as such into your arms!
Just hearing of your undeserv'd calamities, From your remorseless creditors below, I have engag'd for all their claim'd demands, And come to wipe the tear from ev'ry eye.
ANDREWS. Cold sweats bedew my feeble, trembling limbs, And ev'ry object round me grows a blank.
Good heav'n! support me, to these tasks unequal------[As he is falling, WILSON and THOMAS support him.]
WILSON. The feelings of his heart o'erpow'r him so, He cannot give them vent; it may prove fatal------ He's all convuls'd: let's place him on this seat. [CONSTANTIA attends him.]
Lord WESTON. [He moves towards CONSTANTIA.]
My angel--My Constantia! O those tears!
And looks of desperation pierce my soul.
Your father lives--Fortune again may favour: But I am your's, and will be so for ever.
WILSON. O my good lord!
There are disasters yet within these walls, More fatal far, which claim our instant aid.
Lord WESTON. I've heard them all--my uncle is no more-- Would that he had not fall'n in such a cause!
WILSON. But heav'n hath will'd it, and we must submit.
With smiles delusive, other crimes decoy, To hazard future ills for present joy: Gaming alone no transient rapture knows, No gleam of pleasure for eternal woes; Distrust and anxious fears its birth attend; And wild distraction waits its guilty end.
