night has been passed at play--Several card-tables with company
playing_--SIR GEORGE _and_ LADY CAROLINE _at the same table_. SIR
GEORGE _rises furiously_.
SIR GEORGE.
Never was the whole train of misfortunes so united to undo a man, as
this night to ruin me. The most obstinate round of ill luck----
MR. LUCRE. [_Waking from a sleep._
What is all that? You have lost a great deal of money, I suppose?
SIR GEORGE.
Every guinea I had about me, and fifteen thousand besides, for which I
have given my word.
MR. LUCRE.
Fifteen thousand guineas! and I have not won one of them.--Oh,
confusion upon every thing that has prevented me.
SIR GEORGE. [_Taking_ LADY CAROLINE _aside_.
Lady Caroline, you are the sole person who has profited by my
loss.--Prove to me that your design was not to ruin me; to sink me
into the abyss of misfortune,--prove to me, you love me in return for
all my tender love to you. And (_taking up the cards_) give me my
revenge in one single cut.
LADY CAROLINE.
If this is the proof you require, I consent.
SIR GEORGE.
Thank you.--And it is for double or quit.--Thank you. [_She shuffles
and cuts._
SIR GEORGE.
Ay, it will be mine--thank you.--I shall be the winner--thank you.
(_He cuts--then tears the cards and throws them on the floor._)
Destraction!--Furies of the blackest kind conspire against me, and all
their serpents are in my heart.--Cruel, yet beloved woman! Could you
thus abuse and take advantage of the madness of my situation?
LADY CAROLINE.
Your misfortunes, my dear Sir George--make you blind.
SIR GEORGE. [_Taking her again aside._
No, they have rather opened my eyes, and have shown me what you
are.--Still an object I adore; but I now perceive your are one to my
ruin devoted.--If any other intention had directed you, would you have
thus decoyed me to my folly?--You know my proneness to play, your own
likelihood of success, and have palpably allured me to my destruction.
Ungrateful woman, you never loved me, but taught me to believe so, in
order to partake of my prodigality.--Do not be suspicious, madam; the
debt shall be discharged within a week.
LADY CAROLINE. [_With the utmost indifference._
That will do, sir--I depend upon your word; and that will do. [_Exit
curtsying._
SIR GEORGE.
Ungrateful--cruel--she is gone without giving me one hope.--She even
insults--despises me.
MR. LUCRE. [_Coming forward._
Indeed, my dear friend, I compassionate your ill luck most feelingly;
and yet I am nearly as great an object of compassion on this occasion
as yourself; for I have not won a single guinea of all your losses: if
I had, why I could have borne your misfortune with some sort of
patience.
LADY BRIDGET.
My dear Sir George, your situation affects me so extremely, I cannot
stay a moment longer in your presence. [_Goes to the door, and
returns._] But you may depend upon my prayers. [_Exit._
LORD HAZARD.
Sir George, if I had any consolation to offer, it should be at your
service--but you know--you are convinced--I have merely a sufficiency
of consolation--that is, of friends and of money to support myself in
the rank of life I hold in the world. For without that--without that
rank--I sincerely wish you a good morning.
[_Exit_ LORD HAZARD.
SIR GEORGE.
Good morning.
[_The company by degrees all steal out of the room, except_
Mr. LUCRE.
SIR GEORGE. [_Looking around._
Where are all my guests?--the greatest part gone without a word in
condolence, and the rest torturing me with insulting wishes. Here!
behold! here is the sole reliance which I have prepared for the hour
of misfortune; and what is it?--words--compliments--desertion--and
from those, whose ingratitude makes their neglect still more poignant.
[_Turns and perceives_ Mr. LUCRE.] Lucre, my dear Lucre, are not you
amazed at what you see?
MR. LUCRE.
No, not at all--'tis the way of the world--we caress our acquaintances
whilst they are happy and in power, but if they fall into misfortune,
we think we do enough if we have the good nature to pity them.
SIR GEORGE.
And are you, one of these friends?
MR. LUCRE.
I am like the rest of the world.--I was in the number of your
flatterers; but at present you have none--for you may already
perceive, we are grown sincere.
SIR GEORGE.
But have not you a thousand times desired me, in any distress, to
prove you?
MR. LUCRE.
And you do prove me now, do you not?--Heaven bless you. [_Shaking
hands with him_] I shall always have a regard for you--but for any
thing farther--I scorn professions which I do not mean to keep.
[_Going._
SIR GEORGE.
Nay, but Lucre! consider the anguish in which you leave me!--consider,
that to be forsaken by my friends is more affecting than the loss of
all my fortune. Though you have nothing else to give me, yet give me
your company.
MR. LUCRE.
My dear friend I _cannot_. Reflect that I am under obligations to
you--so many indeed that I am ashamed to see you.----I am naturally
bashful; and do not be surprised if I should never have the confidence
to look you in the face again. [_Exit._
SIR GEORGE.
This is the world, such as I have heard it described, but not such as
I could ever believe it to be.--But I forgive--I forget all the world
except Lady Caroline--her ingratitude fastens to my heart and drives
me to despair. She, on whom I have squandered so much--she, whom I
loved--and whom I still love, spite of her perfidy!
(_Enter_ BLUNTLY.)
Well, Bluntly--behold the friendship of the friends I loved! This
morning I was in prosperity and had many--this night I am ruined, and
I have not one.
BLUNTLY.
Ruined, sir?
SIR GEORGE.
Totally: and shall be forced to part with every thing I possess to pay
the sums I owe.----Of course, I shall part with all my servants--and
do you endeavour to find some other place.
BLUNTLY.
But first, sir,--permit me to ask a favour of you?
SIR GEORGE.
A favour of me? I have no favours now to grant.
BLUNTLY.
I beg your pardon, sir--you have one--and I entreat it on my knees.
SIR GEORGE.
What would you ask of me?
BLUNTLY.
To remain along with you still.--I will never quit you; but serve you
for nothing, to the last moment of my life.
SIR GEORGE.
I have then one friend left. (_Embracing him._) And never will I
forget to acknowledge the obligation.
_Enter_ BLACKMAN.
BLACKMAN.
Pardon me--sir--I beg ten thousand pardons--pray excuse me, (_In the
most servile manner_,) for entering before I sent to know if you were
at leisure--but your attendants are all fast asleep on the chairs of
your antichamber.--I could not wake a soul--and I imagined you
yourself were not yet up.
SIR GEORGE.
On the contrary, I have not yet been in bed. And when I do go there, I
wish never to rise from it again.
BLACKMAN.
Has any thing unexpected happened?
SIR GEORGE.
Yes.--That I am ruined--inevitably ruined--Behold (_Shewing the
cards_) the only wreck of my fortune.
BLACKMAN.
(_Starting._) Lost all your fortune?
SIR GEORGE.
All I am worth--and as much more as I am worth.
[BLACKMAN _draws a chair, sits down with great familiarity,
and stares_ SIR GEORGE _rudely in the face_.
BLACKMAN.
Lost all you are worth? He, he, he, he! (_Laughs maliciously._) Pretty
news, truly! Why then I suppose I have lost great part of what I am
worth? all which you are indebted to me?--However there is a way yet
to retrieve you. But--please to desire your servant to leave the room.
SIR GEORGE.
Bluntly, leave us a moment. (_Exit_ BLUNTLY.) Well, Mr. Blackman, what
is this grand secret?
BLACKMAN.
Why, in the state to which you have reduced yourself, there is
certainly no one hope for you, but in that portion, that half of your
fortune, which the will of your father keeps you out of.
SIR GEORGE.
But how am I to obtain it? The lawyer in whose hands it is placed,
will not give it up, without being insured from any future demand by
some certain proofs.
BLACKMAN.
And suppose I should search, and find proofs? Suppose I have them
already by me?--But upon this occasion, you must not only rely
implicitly on what I say, but it is necessary you should say the same
yourself.
SIR GEORGE.
If you advance no falsehood, I cannot have any objection.
BLACKMAN.
Falsehood!--falsehood!--I apprehend, Sir George, you do not consider,
that there is a particular construction put upon words and phrases in
the practice of the law, which the rest of the world, out of that
study, are not clearly acquainted with. For instance, _falsehood_ with
_us_, is not _exactly_ what it is with other people.
SIR GEORGE.
How! Is truth, immutable truth, to be corrupted and confounded by men
of the law?
BLACKMAN.
I was not speaking of truth--that, we have nothing to do with.
SIR GEORGE.
I, must not say so, however, sir.--And in this crisis of my
sufferings, it is the only comfort, the only consolatory reflection
left me, that truth and I, will never separate.
BLACKMAN.
Stick to your truth--but confide in me as usual.--You will go with me,
then, to Mr. Manly, your father's lawyer, and corroborate all that I
shall say?
SIR GEORGE.
Tell me, but what you intend to say?
BLACKMAN.
I can't do that. In the practice of the law, we never know what we
intend to say--and therefore our blunders, when we make them, are in
some measure excusable--and if I should chance to make a blunder or
two, I mean any trivial mistake, when we come before this lawyer, you
must promise not to interfere, or in any shape contradict me.
SIR GEORGE.
A mere lapse of memory, I have nothing to do with.
BLACKMAN.
And my memory grows very bad; therefore you must not disconcert me.
SIR GEORGE.
Come, let us begone--I am ready to go with you this moment.
BLACKMAN.
I must first go home, and prepare a few writings.
SIR GEORGE.
But call to mind that I rely upon your honour.
BLACKMAN.
Do you think Bluntly, your servant, is an honest man?
SIR GEORGE.
I am sure he is.
BLACKMAN.
Then, to quiet your fears, I will take him along with us; and you will
depend on what he shall say, I make no doubt?
SIR GEORGE.
I would stake my being upon his veracity.
BLACKMAN.
Call him in, then, and bid him do as I command him.
SIR GEORGE.
Here, Bluntly. (_Enter_ BLUNTLY.) Mr. Blackman has some business with
you--listen to him with attention, and follow his directions. [_Exit._
BLACKMAN.
You know, I suppose, the perilous situation of your master?
[BLUNTLY _shakes his head, and wipes his eyes._
BLACKMAN.
Good fellow! good fellow!--and you would, I dare say, do any thing to
rescue him from the misery with which he is surrounded?
BLUNTLY.
I would lay down my life.
BLACKMAN.
You can do it for less. Only put on a black coat, and the business is
done.
BLUNTLY.
What's that all? Oh! if I can save him by putting on a black coat,
I'll go buy mourning, and wear it all my life.
BLACKMAN.
There's a good fellow. I sincerely thank you for this attachment to
your master.
[_Shaking him by the hand._
BLUNTLY.
My dear Blackman, I beg your pardon for what I am going to say; but as
you behave thus friendly on this unfortunate occasion, I must confess
to you--that till now I always hated you.--I could not bear the sight
of you.--For I thought you (I wish I may die if I did not) one of the
greatest rogues in the world. I fancied you only waited on, and
advised my master to make your market of him.--But now your attention
to him in his distress, when all his friends have forsaken him, is so
kind--Heaven bless you--Heaven bless you--I'll go buy a black coat.
[_Going._
BLACKMAN.
I have something more to say to you.--When you have put on this coat,
you must meet your master and me at Mr. Manly's, the lawyer; and when
we are all there, you must mind and say, exactly what I say.
BLUNTLY.
And what will that be?
BLACKMAN.
Oh! something.
BLUNTLY.
I have no objection to say something--but I hope you won't make me say
any thing.
BLACKMAN.
You seem to doubt me once more, sir?
BLUNTLY.
No, I am doubting you now for the first time; for I always thought I
was _certain_ before.
BLACKMAN.
And will you not venture to say yes, and no, to what I shall advance?
BLUNTLY.
Why--I think I may venture to say yes to your no, and no to your yes,
with a safe conscience.
BLACKMAN.
If you do not instantly follow me and do all that I shall propose,
your master is ruined.--Would you see him dragged to prison?
BLUNTLY.
No, I would sooner go myself.
BLACKMAN.
Then why do you stand talking about a safe conscience. Half my clients
would have been ruined if I had shewn my zeal as you do. Conscience
indeed! Why, this is a matter of law, to serve your master in his
necessity.
BLUNTLY.
I have heard necessity has no law--but if it has no conscience, it is
a much worse thing than I took it for.--No matter for that--come
along.--Oh my poor master!--I would even tell a _lie_ to save him.
[_Exeunt._