University of Virginia Library

Scene 3.

Room in a tavern in London; James Forrester discovered writing.
JAMES.
How bitter are the dregs! the draught was swallow'd
So greedily, I scarce know if 'twas sweet;
But the sour and biting flavour of the lees
Lies on my palate. O thou moral dunce!
Whom teaching could not make retain thy task,
But who again hast fallen on a path
Measured so often with thy stumbling footsteps.
How deep I scorn myself! from the high bar
Of mine own conscience slink I shamefully,
Judged of my thoughts. Why there is nothing, nothing
That is not worthier, steadfaster, more firm,
More true and constant to its purposes than I am.
A reed, a vane, feathers that show the wind,
All things unstable are poor types of me;
For they, obeying their great natural law,
Do but their kind in changing; while myself,
Owning one law, acknowledging one right,
Straight turn, and sin against mine own allowance,
And show myself herein most pitiful,
That not my reason or resolve can hold me
From the chance breath of every stray temptation.
Oh, I could strike my forehead on these boards!
Less dull! less senseless! less incapable!
And now to write to her:—what shall I say?
‘I love you.’ Answers she not, ‘You have proved it?’
If I do beg her pardon, like an alms,
Given to one whose evil life hath beggar'd him,
Out of her Christian pity she shall give it,
And bid God help me to a better course.
If I do crave her hand, shall she not say:
‘Yea, for the hope I have of restless days,
Nights, when you shall forsake my bed for the dice,
The sweet society of all your tavern friends,
And the fair chance of dying yet a beggar—
For all these pleasant prospects, I will marry you.’
'Sdeath! I'll not write; I've not the face! or thus,
I yet will write, and bidding her consider
How desperately unworthy I am grown
Ever to see her, or to think of her,
Beseech her to forgive me, though for ever
She banish me from her sweet heart and mind,
A rude, ungovern'd outlaw from all grace.
[Shouts of laughter without.
Now come my fellow fools! and he, the devil
That leads the dance. Time was I loved this laughing;
It sounds like howling now. Here comes the rout,
And even quiet thoughts must give them place.

[Enter Lord Alford, Wilton, Mowbray, Illworth, and others.
ALFORD.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! and so they were too hard for thee
In Florence, Illworth?

ILLWORTH.
Curse their Italian craft!
Their dice be devils.

ALFORD.
So are ours sometimes.
Ha, James! what sayst thou? are they not, good James?

JAMES.
In your lordship's hands they are familiar devils,
That spoil men at your will; but have a care!
They will be paid at last their fees by you.

ALFORD.
How now! how now! homilies at the hazard table?
Gramercy, holy preacher! is your text
From theory, or experience?

JAMES.
From experience;
As your lordship's purse might let you know.

WILTON.
That's well!
If I were James, I'd flay him!

MOWBRAY.
Why don't you?
He owes you just as much; peace now, be still;
Here'll be a quarrel.

ALFORD.
Ha! ha! ha! poor Forrester!
He's stripp'd to the quick; you'd think he'd pledged his skin,
And lost it.

JAMES
(aside).
Shall I take him by the throat?
(Aloud).
Very well, sir,—'tis the winner's part to laugh.

ALFORD.
'Tis very clear you're not the winner, James;
You look about to cry.

JAMES
(aside).
'Sdeath! I will write to her,
And then end all at once.

ALFORD.
Come, Illworth, show us
The craft you spoke of:—how is it they play?

ILLWORTH.
Why, they stand round the table, as it were—
Here, spread the table—now, where be the dice?

MOWBRAY.
How many play at it?

ILLWORTH.
Why, all who will.

WILTON.
Forrester, come and see this foreign trickery.

JAMES.
Thanks! I have seen our English, which is good.

ALFORD.
Oh, let him be! he's like a hen i' the pip,
Best in the corner where he's thrust himself:
Go on. Well then, they all stand round the table,
And here we are.

ILLWORTH.
Now each in turn shall say
What the cast shall be, and put the stake down on it.

WILTON.
Well, here's my stake—mark though, for thy example
Only.

OMNES.
Ha! ha! here, here's for thy example.

MOWBRAY.
Forrester, come and wager for example.

JAMES.
I have done so already, for your example;
Let my loss be your gain.

ILLWORTH.
'Tis a curious game, sir,
Well worth your eye.

FORRESTER.
'Tis very likely, sir,
Yet pray excuse me.

ILLWORTH.
Even as you will.

ALFORD.
Come, James, ne'er mope; what though Sir John be come,
Hasn't he slack'd the leading-strings yet?

JAMES.
Sir!

ALFORD.
Why God a mercy, friend! don't eat me!

JAMES.
My lord,
Let me but put two words more to this paper,
And I will speak with you; by your good leave,
Let me be private for a moment.

ALFORD.
Certainly:
He's writing to his mistress; she's forbid him
To touch the dice—he's play'd, the naughty boy,
And now is begging to be spared his whipping.

JAMES
(aside).
Very well, I hear you,—very well; within there.

MOWBRAY.
Come, Illworth, here—here lie our stakes all round.

[Enter a Servant.
JAMES.
Send hither my man.

[Exit Servant.
ILLWORTH.
Now, I will hold the dice,
And as you each call out the cast, that one,
Who names the number even as it falls,
Sweeps all away.

WILTON.
How if none hit the right?

ILLWORTH.
The stake is his that throws.

MOWBRAY.
But how, if two,
Or more, should say alike?

ILLWORTH.
If they hit right,
The profit lies between them.

ALFORD.
A pretty game!
Come now, begin.

[Enter a Servant.
JAMES.
Eustace, if presently,
My brother should come here, and I be—gone—
Or else—no matter, if I am not here,
Here is a letter for him, and hark in thine ear.

[Whispers to him.
EUSTACE.
I shall, sir.

JAMES.
Bring them now at once.

[Exit Eustace.
MOWBRAY.
Hallo!
I said 'twas quatre ace, and so it is.
Fair play! fair play! good foreign conjuror!

ILLWORTH.
You did not say so—or I heard you not.

WILTON.
He did, he did, I heard him; you, my Lord,
Did you not hear?

ALFORD.
I never hear.

MOWBRAY.
No matter;
Hear or not hear who will, I swear I said it;
I said it, and, by Jove! I'll stand to it.

WILTON.
I heard you say it—

SEVERAL.
So did I, and I.

ILLWORTH.
Hoite toite! cats in a high wind!

[Re-enter Eustace, bringing a case of pistols.
EUSTACE.
Here, sir.

JAMES.
Are they loaded, primed, and ready? Very good.
You've got that letter for my brother? Here
Is one for Mistress Mary Winthrop. You
Will ride at break of day to the Judge's house,
And give it her—yourself; be sure, yourself.

EUSTACE.
Is your honour going on a journey?

JAMES.
Yes—
On a long journey, Eustace.

EUSTACE.
Please you, sir,
Nothing's prepared, or in fit order yet.

JAMES.
That's true, indeed! I know it very well!
Good Eustace, get thee gone; think of my letters.
What a hell's turmoil! get thee gone.

[Exit Eustace.
ILLWORTH.
Let be,
Let him swear out his gizzard; what is't to me!

JAMES
(rising).
Now, I am for you.

OMNES.
Forrester! Forrester!
Judge thou this matter!

JAMES.
No; pray pardon me;
I have a game to play on mine own account.
When that is over, I will hear this question.

ALFORD.
Why, well said! Now, my melancholy man!
Hang it; although thy good St. John of a brother—

JAMES.
Let be my brother, if you please, my lord.
Your lordship challenged me to throw the dice
Just now; and so I would, but that indeed
You have fish'd clean to the bottom of my pouch,
And I have nothing left for you to sport with.

WILTON.
What ails that man? D'ye mark how pale he looks?

MOWBRAY.
That's what you call white heat—hotter than red.

ALFORD.
What, nothing?

JAMES.
Nothing; not the wherewithal,
Unless I sit at my brother's board, to get
My supper for to-night or morrow's dinner.
'Tis a plain case; nothing is right soon counted.
Now, having nothing for a mess of broth
To stay my stomach on when next I hunger,
What shall I venture against you, my good lord?

ALFORD.
Will not thy credit serve thee with the Jews?

JAMES.
That's bye and bye; I would be playing now.

ALFORD.
What! nor thy generous brother lend thee a stiver!

JAMES.
Perhaps he might; but he is not at hand,
Although I look for him from hour to hour.
I would be playing now.

ALFORD.
I'll tell thee, James;
Thy manory of Wentworth—'tis a thought,
An excellent thought!—ha! ha! an excellent thought.

JAMES.
No doubt: what is't?

ALFORD.
Thou hast it yet?—that farm?
With all its goodly meadow land, and timber,
The lusty growth that hath been rising there,
For thy necessity, these hundred years?

JAMES.
Yes, sir,
I have it yet; (aside)
—it should have been my home
When I was married, that old farm: (aloud)
—well, sir?

ALFORD.
Is't mortgaged?

JAMES.
No.

ALFORD.
What, sound? no corner touched?

JAMES.
That's wonderful, my lord—is't not to you?

ALFORD.
Why, thou canst raise a fortune on it, man.

JAMES.
Hereafter; but I would be playing now.

OMNES.
I'll lend thee, Forrester!—or I!—or I!

JAMES.
Oh, thank ye! thank ye! honest gentlemen!
(Aside).
Good fellow gulls, have ye so much left to lend?

ALFORD.
Hark, James, I'm bent to have that farm of thine.

JAMES.
Damn him! my blood boils o'er in spite of myself!
With all my heart; shall I make a deed of gift,
Or play for it with your lordship?

ALFORD.
Deed of gift!
No, no; thou'rt jesting. Come, we'll throw for it.

JAMES.
With all my heart; how shall the venture stand?

ALFORD.
Thus: he that throws the two best casts of three,
Shall call it his, and if thou winn'st, it quits thee
Of all thou owest me. Is it agreed?

JAMES.
Agreed;
Upon a bargain, worthiest sir, that when
That game is o'er, you play another one
On my conditions.

ALFORD.
I will wager thee,
When thou hast lost thy farm, thou hast not left
The heart, to throw another die.

JAMES.
Then, sir,
I'll borrow yours. Your lordship's heart, d'ye hear
Which seems to be of the hardest that are made,
Your upright, noble, generous, kind heart.
Look, worthy Sir, who plays with desperate men
Must play a desperate game; do you see these?
These playthings here? here lie they at my hand.
Now, win or lose this manor, an ye list;
He that shall throw the two best casts of three,
When that is done, shall have first aim and fire.
An excellent thought, my lord! ha! ha! an excellent thought.
Is it agreed?

ALFORD.
Agreed.

MOWBRAY.
What is't you do?

WILTON.
James! for the love of heaven, play not this stake!

ILLWORTH.
Be counsell'd yet, sir—

WILTON.
James! James Forrester!

MOWBRAY.
He ne'er was known to lose.

ALFORD.
Nor will not now;
Come, James, you're angry; give this mad game o'er,
I do not care to throw with thee—

JAMES.
My lord,
I'm ready.

MOWBRAY.
Some one run to his brother's lodging.

JAMES.
No one that loves me stir. Good gentlemen,
If any here are friends to an unthrift,
That never yet was friend unto himself,
Stand by, and see fair play; 'tis all I ask.
Now then, sir, throw; trois, quatre!

ALFORD.
And trois, ace!
You've the better, sir.

JAMES.
Again, doubletts!

ALFORD.
Trois, six!
Now for the third; trois, quatre!

JAMES.
Quatre, ace!
The manor's yours! now, Sir, we'll try how long
You shall enjoy it.

WILTON.
This is murder!
[Enter Sir John Forrester.
Oh!
Thank God you've come! here is your brother James
Playing with that thief of a lord for his life.

FORRESTER.
Stand by;
Hush! stand awhile, and speak not!

WILTON.
Sir, the stake
Is who shall have first aim, and fire at the other!

FORRESTER.
Peace, for awhile! let's see.

ALFORD.
Give up the rest.

JAMES.
Play my lord, play! deux, ace!

ALFORD.
Why, take it then,
Fool, an thou wilt! trois, deux!

MOWBRAY.
This is most horrible!

JAMES.
Our merry game will presently be over,
You've the best of me; trois, quatre!

ALFORD.
Trois, deux! so,
Thou'st yet one chance of living to grow wiser,
Improve it, James, if thou should'st win the match.

JAMES.
Trois, quatre!

ALFORD.
Quatre, cinq!

FORRESTER
(striking him).
Villain and thief!
That die is loaded!

OMNES.
Loaded! a loaded die!
Seize on it!—prove it!

ALFORD.
Your greeting's short, and short
Is my reply—take that!

[Fires a pistol at him.
FORRESTER.
Oh! I am dead!

OMNES.
Secure him!
Call the watch!

JAMES
(seizing the other pistol).
Devil!

FORRESTER
(wrests it from him).
No! you shall do no murder,
To wound me worse than this leaden death within me.
What! shall he die by the hand of a gentleman
Who hath lived like a felon?

ALFORD.
How shalt thou prevent it?

FORRESTER.
James! I do charge thee with this latest breath,
Whose ebbing checks my speech, pursue that man
To the very utmost limit of the law,
And spare him not; but let his noble name
Receive at the high tribunal of his peers
The dignities himself hath graced it with,
Of dicer—murderer—and thief!

WILTON.
The watch!
The city watch!

MOWBRAY.
Call them!

ALFORD.
Ha! let me pass!

MOWBRAY.
They are knocking now.

ALFORD.
Let me pass, I say!

[Enter the Watch.
WILTON.
They're here!
Take your precedence, noble sir, to the gallows!

MOWBRAY.
Good master officer! here's been a murder
Done in broad day, before us all, ev'n now;
Here lies a gentleman, wounded to death
By this lord; we all can witness to the deed.

WILTON.
Further, here lie the dice his lordship uses—
Curious ones.

OFFICER.
Will you follow?

ALFORD.
Fellow, keep off!

WILTON.
To be sure; don't touch him, he's a lord! I hope
They'll hang his lordship with a silken rope.

ALFORD.
Cowardly cur! that durst not show thy teeth
Till the bear was noosed!

OFFICER.
Come, sir, will you walk?

ALFORD.
Go on.
Farewell, sweet sirs! I've lived upon ye all
For some time past; 'tis fit I thank you for't:
So, thank ye, excellent fools, that I have fed on.
God send ye wits, to cram your bellies with,
And mend the holes I've made in your estates.

JAMES.
Hence! take him hence!
[Exeunt Alford and Watch.
Wilt thou be carried home?
Canst thou move?

FORRESTER.
No!—I fear time scarce will serve.
James, do not mourn, nor let thy spirit grieve
That I am dead. I often, in my life,
Did marvel to what use or end I lived;
I know it now, and die rejoiced to think of it.
Henceforth my blood, and not these painted spots,
Will speck the dice that thou shalt look upon;
And thou shalt fear to rattle them again,
As if they were my bones. The blood has soaked
All through my doublet: raise me up—O God!
Farewell, poor brother! Weep not! weep not! weep not!

[He dies.
JAMES.
Oh, sirs, he's dead!

MOWBRAY.
James, we will carry him
Home in our arms: have comfort, sir!—so—so—
Flesh never wrapp'd a nobler soul than his.
Bear we his body honourably hence,
Whose memory shall live in our hearts for ever.

[Exeunt, bearing the body.