The Female Gamester | Page 2

raise their language; that the writing of prose is generally the plea and excuse of poverty of Genius." And some others being of the same opinion, I have now chang'd it all into metre.
Fired is the Muse! and let the Muse be fired. Who's not inflam'd, when what he speaks he feels? Young.
The introduction by the moderns of confidents, those friends in Tragedy, to whom the chief personages discover their secrets and situation, has been also objected to by critics. The discovery is indeed purposely made to the audience, and supplies the want of a chorus. But to speak in Monsieur Brumos's own stile: "If Homer, in his Epic poem, found a Patroclus necessary to his Achilles, and Virgil an Achates to Aeneas, such examples may well justify the Dramatic Poets in calling in the assistance of associates, who generally appear of more use than ornament to the piece." Besides, were it not for them, long and disgusting soliloquies must be innumerable, especially if there be any plot in the piece of either love, ambition, or conspiracy. In short, as he again says, "they are the mortar which forms the proper cement to fix the corner stones of the building."
But I declare, that the avoiding on the one hand, a style too high, as on the other, too mean and vulgar for the subject, or the persons concerned therein, has been a talk far more difficult to me than any of the best formed lines in either of my other Tragedies, so that I tremble at the thought of the reception this may meet with; and had it not been on account of the moral it inculcates, and the solicitation of some of my friends, I never should have published it.

Prologue,
BY Mr. R. Lewis, Author of the Candid Philosopher, &c. &c.
The Muse prolific of a Vet'ran Bard Again brings forth;--but yet with labour hard. Nor is it strange, that such a Muse feels pain, When her child starts, like Pallas, from the brain, Arm'd at all points; when bold, she dares engage, With Truth's bright arms, the monsters of the age; When with just aim she points keen Satire's dart, And stabs the foul fiend GAMING to the heart.
Yet has our Bard, to simple Nature true, Not brought up scenes of grandeur to your view; Not sought by magic arts to strike your eyes, Nor made the gods descend, or fiends arise: His plan is humble, and his fable plain, The town his scene, and artless is his strain: Yet in that strain some lambent sparks still glow Of that bright flame which shew'd Almeyda's woe, Which far-fam'd Tamor's Siege so well display'd, To fire each hero, and to charm each maid.
Attend, ye Fair and Brave!--Our daring Bard Hopes in your smiles to meet his best reward. And you, ye Critics! if to censure bent, Think on this fact, and scorn the harsh intent; Our Bard would fain discordant things unite, As hard to reconcile as day and night: He strives within chaste Hymen's bands to draw The tuneful maids and sages of the law; Or, what's alike--nor think he means a joke-- Melpomene to wed with old judge Coke. Yet still, if you'll not let his faults pass free, The Grecian rev'rence pay to sixty-three.

Persons of the drama.
Men.
ANDREWS, merchant and banker. WILSON, GOODWIN, merchants, his neighbours. Lord BELMOUR, an English peer. Lord WESTON, nephew to lord BELMOUR. JEFFERSON, first clerk and cashier to Mr. ANDREWS. THOMAS, steward to Mr. ANDREWS.
Women.
Mrs. ANDREWS. Lady BELMOUR. CONSTANTIA, daughter to Mr. ANDREWS, by a former wife. LUCIA, her kinswoman. MARIA, waiting-woman to Mrs. ANDREWS, and wife to THOMAS.
Attendants and other servants, bailiffs, &c.
Scene, London.

THE FEMALE GAMSTER.

ACT I.

SCENE I.
Mr. ANDREWS's house.
Enter MARIA and THOMAS.
MARIA. But why these moping, melancholy looks? Each eye observes and marks them now unseemly, Whilst every countenance but your's speaks joy, At the near wedding of our master's daughter. Sure none so well deserv'd this noble prize: And young lord Weston will be bless'd indeed.
THOMAS. It has been countermanded.
MARIA. What again? This is the second time. What can this mean? Then, his unusual absence, now a month, Nor any cause assign'd.
THOMAS. Some accident. I know a truer flame was ne'er profess'd: A fondness which commenced in his apprenticeship, Here in this house, then but the late lord's nephew, Nor next in heirship to estate or title.
MARIA. And sure all must approve his well-judg'd choice! In charms and virtues there are none surpass her.
THOMAS. Heav'n grant my fears are groundless! but, Maria, To think on what of late I daily see, Afflicts my soul.
MARIA. What is't your fears suggest?
THOMAS. A wasted fortune and a sinking credit, With the near ruin of this worthy family; The thought materially concerns us both.
MARIA. But, why again, should we distress ourselves For that we cannot