The Female Gamester | Page 5

quite regardless.
ANDREWS. They've been unseen by me. My health's weak state Will not admit my sleeping in the city; Whence also, I am often whole days absent; As my neglected finances disclose. Have you at any time beheld these scenes?
WILSON. Once, on the invitation of your spouse.
ANDREWS. Relate them, if not irksome.
WILSON. At your instance. Then, the first object 'midst this wild assembly, (For such the night's proceedings fully prov'd it) That urg'd my wonder, was the heavy purses Which were display'd there, even by the women, Without remorse or shame.
ANDREWS. Ay, there!--Proceed.
WILSON. After the night had been near three part wasted, Full half the meeting more like spectres seem'd Than of this world. The clamour then grew great; Whilst ev'ry torturing passion of the foul Glar'd in the ghastly visages of several. Some grinn'd in rage, some tore their hair, whilst others, Upon their knees, with hands and eyes uplifted, In curses dar'd assail all-ruling Providence Under the varied names of Fate and Fortune. Nor is there one in the black list of crimes, Which these infernals seem'd not prompt to perpetrate, Whilst on a cast their trembling fortunes hung.
ANDREWS. O Wilson! every passion, every power Of the great human soul are by this vice, This fatal vice of all, quite, quite absorb'd, Save those which its fell purposes excite! Oh! that most vile seducer lady Belmour! Wer't not for her, my wife had been a stranger To all those evils; I to all my misery.
WILSON. But have our sex surrender'd their prerogative? Or have I liv'd to see the world revers'd? You are a man--
ANDREWS. I know not what I am. Alas! my friend is stranger to these matters! When once a woman deviates from discretion, Setting her heart on every vain pursuit, No husband then rests master of his fate. Fond love no limit knows to its submission, Not more than beauty to its thirst for empire, Whose tears are not less pow'rful than its smiles. Nay, ev'n dislike, 'gainst reason, oft must yield, Whilst the mind's quiet is an object priz'd; So is the sex from its sweet purpose chang'd--
WILSON. Your state then seems quite hopeless of relief?
ANDREWS. O! could I wean her from this one sad vice! Wipe out this only speck in her rich volume! Then, all my woes should cease; then, would I write, In truth's fair characters, her matchless worth, Nor blush to boast the fondness of my heart.
WILSON. Your love admits some doubt.
ANDREWS. My love of her!------
WILSON. Ev'n so. Do you not tamely see her, ev'ry day, Destroying wantonly her precious health? But what is more------I shall proceed too far.
ANDREWS. Go on, I am prepar'd.
WILSON. Her reputation--
ANDREWS. Her reputation!
WILSON. I have said it,
ANDREWS. Heav'n!
WILSON. It has not 'scap'd the busy tongue of censure, Yet let appearances be what they may, I think she's innocent.
ANDREWS. What, innocent! Against appearances!--impossible. All sense disclaims the thought; these neglected, Neglect of virtue is the sure attendant, And ev'n the firmest may be then seduced;-- 'Tis as the noon-day plain.--Who? who's the villain? The murderer of my peace? By heav'n! he dies.
WILSON. Madness indeed! all may be mere surmise; Wherefore, at present it will be most prudent, To hush the sad ideas of suspicion. A little time must prove its truth, or falsehood; Besides, the person charg'd is of high rank.
ANDREWS. O! there's no rank can sanctify such outrage. Lord Belmour! say--
WILSON. Yes--he--or why that name?
ANDREWS. They nearly are a-kin--and yet of late His visits have been rather more than usual. But have you any proof for this your hint?
WILSON. It is the current rumour of the neighbourhood, Else I should ne'er have dar'd to wound your ear; But friendship urges the unpleasing task-- You tell me, you sleep mostly in the country?
ANDREWS. What then? he may, ev'n when I sleep in town, Pass nights with her, and all unknown to me.
WILSON. You puzzle me.
ANDREWS. 'Tis easily explain'd. For some time past we've slept in separate chambers. For when she had exchang'd her harmless life For the destructive course she now pursues, Her hours became so late and so uncertain, My rest was quite disturb'd.
WILSON. Unhappy state! Have you discours'd her calmly on these matters? Few of her sex possess superiour talents.
ANDREWS. Her temper is so chang'd, so sour'd of late,
Which with her sad misconduct still increases; And she so prides herself on her alliances, And the caresses of her vain associates, That neither I, nor her neglected children, Dare ev'n attempt the least discourse with her. Did you know all, 'twould rend your tender heart. [He pauses a while, then walks about much disturbed.]
WILSON. He has abundance more to hear of yet; Two bills this very day, went off unpaid, A stroke too fatal, e'er to be recover'd. [Aside.] Affliction is heav'n's trial of our