Quotes by Edward Moore

The world is full of hypocrites. _Bev._ And Stukely one--So you'd infer, I think. I'll hear no more of this--My heart akes for him--I have undone him. _Lew._ The world says otherwise. _Bev._ The world is false then. I have business with you, love. (_To Mrs. Beverley._) We'll leave them to their rancour. [_Going._ _Char._ No. We shall find room within for't. Come this way, Sir. [_To Lewson._ _Lew._ Another time my friend will thank me; that time is hastening too. [_Exit with Charlotte._ _Bev._ They hurt me beyond bearing. Is Stukely false? Then honesty has left us! 'Twere sinning against heaven to think so. _Mrs. Bev._ I never doubted him. _Bev._ No; You are charity. Meekness and ever-during patience live in that heart, and love that knows no change--Why did I ruin you? _Mrs. Bev._ You have not ruined me. I have no wants when You are present, nor wishes in your absence, but to be blest with your return. Be but resigned to what has happened, and I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice. _Bev._ My generous girl!--But memory will be busy; still crowding on my thoughts, to sour the present by the past. I have another pang too. _Mrs. Bev._ Tell it, and let me cure it. _Bev._ That friend, that generous friend, whose fame they have traduced--I have undone Him too. While he had means, he lent me largely; and now a prison must be his portion. _Mrs. Bev._ No; I hope otherwise. _Bev._ To hope must be to act. The charitable wish feeds not the hungry. Something must be done. _Mrs. Bev._ What? _Bev._ In bitterness of heart he told me, just now he told me, I had undone him. Could I hear that, and think of happiness? No; I have disclaimed it, while He is miserable. _Mrs. Bev._ The world may mend with us, and then we may be grateful. There's comfort in that hope. _Bev._ Ay; 'tis the sick man's cordial, his promised cure; while in preparing it, the patient dies.--What now? SCENE VIII. _Enter LUCY._ _Lucy._ A letter, Sir. [_Delivers it, and exit.

Lucy, Mrs. PRICE. SCENE, LONDON. THE GAMESTER. A TRAGEDY. ACT I. SCENE I. _Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, and CHARLOTTE._ _Mrs. Beverley._ Be comforted, my dear; all may be well yet. And now, methinks, the lodgings begin to look with another face. O sister! sister! if these were all my hardships; if all I had to complain of were no more than quitting my house, servants, equipage and show, your pity would be weakness. _Char._ Is poverty nothing then? _Mrs. Bev._ Nothing in the world, if it affected only Me. While we had a fortune, I was the happiest of the rich: and now 'tis gone, give me but a bare subsistance, and my husband's smiles, and I'll be the happiest of the poor. To Me now these lodgings want nothing but their master. Why d'you look so at me? _Char._ That I may hate my brother. _Mrs. Bev._ Don't talk so, Charlotte. _Char._ Has he not undone you? Oh! this pernicious vice of gaming! But methinks his usual hours of four or five in the morning might have contented him; 'twas misery enough to wake for him till then: need he have staid out all night? I shall learn to detest him. _Mrs. Bev._ Not for the first fault. He never slept from me before. _Char._ Slept from you! No, no; his nights have nothing to do with sleep. How has this one vice driven him from every virtue! nay, from his affections too!--The time _was_, sister-- _Mrs. Bev._ And _is_. I have no fear of his affections. Would I knew that he were safe! _Char._ From ruin and his companions. But that's impossible. His poor little boy too! What must become of Him? _Mrs. Bev._ Why, want shall teach him industry. From his father's mistakes he shall learn prudence, and from his mother's resignation, patience. Poverty has no such terrors in it as you imagine. There's no condition of life, sickness and pain excepted, where happiness is excluded. The needy peasant, who rises early to his labour, enjoys more welcome rest at night for't.

Recall past time then; or through this sea of storms and darkness, shew me a star to guide me. But what can'st Thou? _Jar._ The little that I can, I will. You have been generous to me. I would not offend you, Sir--but-- _Bev._ No. Think'st thou I'd ruin Thee too? I have enough of shame already. My wife! my wife! Would'st thou believe it, Jarvis? I have not seen her all this long night; I, who have loved her so, that every hour of abscence seemed as a gap in life. But other bonds have held me. O! I have played the boy; dropping my counters in the stream, and reaching to redeem them, have lost Myself. Why wilt Thou follow misery? Or if thou wilt, go to thy mistress--She has no guilt to sting her, and therefore may be comforted. _Jar._ For pity's sake, Sir! I have no heart to see this change. _Bev._ Nor I to bear it. How speaks the world of me, Jarvis? _Jar._ As of a good man dead. Of one, who walking in a dream, fell down a precipice. The world is sorry for you. _Bev._ Ay, and pities me. Says it not so? But I was born to infamy. I'll tell thee what it says. It calls me villain; a treacherous husband; a cruel father; a false brother; one lost to nature and her charities--Or to say all in one short word, it calls me--Gamester. Go to thy mistress; I'll see her presently. _Jar._ And why not now? Rude people press upon her; loud, bawling creditors; wretches, who know no pity. I met one at the door; he would have seen my mistress--I wanted means of present payment, so promised it to-morrow. But others may be pressing; and she has grief enough already. Your absence hangs too heavy on her. _Bev._ Tell her I'll come then. I have a moment's business. But what hast Thou to do with My distresses? Thy honesty has left thee poor; and age wants comfort. Keep what thou hast for cordials; left between thee and the grave, misery steal in. I have a friend shall counsel me--This is that friend. SCENE IV. _Enter STUKELY._ _Stu._ How fares it, Beverley? Honest Mr. Jarvis, well met; I hoped to find you here. That viper Williams! Was it not He that troubled you this morning? _Jar._ My mistress heard him then? I am sorry that she heard him. _Bev._ And Jarvis promised payment. _Stu._ That must not be.