ANTONY AND VENTIDIUS. Ven. They will not come. 199 Ant. Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids, To double my despair? They 're mutinous. Ven. Most firm and loyal. Ant. Why did they refuse to march ? Ven. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Ven. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Ant. You grow presumptuous. Ven. I take the privilege of plain love to speak. great in arms that I might kill thee O, that thou wert my equal, You have done more already — called me traitor. Ven. For showing you yourself, But had I been That name, which I disdain to speak again, a glorious, happy traitor; A traitor then, Ant. Forgive me, soldier ; I've been too passionate. Ven. You thought me false; Thought my old age betrayed you. Kill me, sir! Pray, kill me! Yet you need not; your unkindness Has left your sword no work. Ant. I did not think so; I said it in my rage. Pr'ythee, forgive me. (They shake hands. Thou shalt behold me once again in iron; And, at the head of our old troops, that beat Ant. O, thou hast fired me! My soul 's up in arms. And mans each part about me. The nobleness of fight has seized me. Come on, my soldier! Once again I long Our hearts and arms are still the same. VI. THE GAMBLER'S SON. ORIGINAL TRANSLATION. DRYDEN (altered.) M. de Ferrières (pronounced Ferryair), after years of extreme poverty, has risen suddenly to opulence. His son, George, returns home from sea, and questions his father as to the source of his wealth. The father evades his inquiries. George follows him to the gaming-table, sees him play with M. Dubourg, and win all his money, and satisfies himself that his father cheated at cards. He stands overwhelmed, and, in the following scene, intimates to his father what he has discovered. If convenient, there should be a table on the stage, with a pack of cards on it, and a chair on either side of the table. Enter M. DE F. first, Left; then GEORGE, Right. What's the matter? George. (Looking around him.) No one can enter ? sure of that? M. de F. Why all these precautions? Are we George. (With much emotion.) Did Dubourg lose all —all at cards? Did you win his all? M. de F. The luck went against him. George. (Mustering courage.) But that money-you will give it back to him? M. de F. How? George. You will give it back to him—will you not? George. O! keep it not, my father! Keep it not! Dubourg is a merchant. He must have that money in order to meet his engagements. Without it he is ruined. Give it him back. is all I ask. It M. de F. (Looking at him with surprise.) I do not under stand you. George. (Aside.) Yes, it is my duty! (Aloud.) You must renounce all that you won from Dubourg; absolutely, you must. THE GAMBLER'S SON. 201 M. de F. The more I look at you, the more am I astonished. Are you in your senses, George? This paleness- these convulsive movements- What has happened to you? wretched! George. I am very What profound despair! Speak, George. I shall never be able- M. de F. Have I ever failed in a father's love and care? From your youth upwards have you not found me your best friend? George. Ah, yes! I have not forgotten the days of my childhood. Often do I remember me of the lessons you used to instill when we dwelt in our humble hut. Every principle of honor and of virtue- it is from you that I have received it; and nothing is forgotten. M. de F. You know it; you were the object of ness; all my hopes reposed on you. my tender George. Yes! You would say to me in those days, "My son, whatever may be your fate, remember that he is never without consolation who keeps his conscience pure!" You said it. my father, and I remember it well. M. de F. George, that state of destitution and wretchedness, to which I had reduced you and your mother, — how did I reproach myself with it! That horrible poverty - that absolute want what torture! And what regrets did I experience because of you, whose heritage I had so foolishly dissipated! George. Did I ever utter a complaint? Did I ever reproach you with our misfortunes- our poverty? Have I not always cherished, respected, served you ? M. de F. Yes, George is a good son; he is no ingrate; he will not heedlessly wound a father's heart. George. No, no! Only one boon. M. de F. Speak, my son. George. That money of Dubourg's M. de F. (Angrily.) Again you recur to it! George. Do you not remember those words which you added to your lessons?" All that now remains to us, my son, is honor!" M. de F. Doubtless. But how wretched, George, had you been without this change of fortune which time has brought! George. This fortune - its source? Tell me whence you M. de F. (Interrupting him.) Never could you have presumed to marry her you love; never would a career have been opened to you; you would have had no means of exercising your talents, no resources! You do not realize the humiliation which poverty brings with it in an age like ours, where favor and consideration are measured according to the amount of gold one has; where the virtues are repulsed, merit disdained, talent ignored, unless intrigue or fortune open the way. With gold one has every thing—without it, nothing. George. (Aside.) All is now explained. (Aloud.) Ah, well! my choice is made: indigence and probity. M. de F. Indigence the return of all those sufferings you once experienced? Can aught be worse? George. Yes-dishonor. M. de F. (Aside.) I tremble. (Aloud.) What would you say? George. That there is no wretchedness equal to mine, sir! M. de F. Sir?" (He gives his hand to his son, who takes it with a disordered air.) George. Hear me. Can you imagine all which that man suffers who sees in a single day the overthrow of all that he believed in the destruction of what he had regarded, up to that moment, as the summit of his hopes and affections; who sees the past rendered hateful, the future desperate, since he can trust no longer in all that he had adored and respected? Love, honor, ye sole blessings which make life precious, ye are gone― gone for ever! M. de F. George! George. Do you comprehend, sir, this misfortune without consolation? A son who cherished, who revered his father, who bore with pride an honorable name -ah, well! this son - he must now blush for evermore, and repulse that man whom he had learned to venerate and love. M. de F. Gracious powers! George. Ay, sir; for he knows all. M. de F. What knows he? George. He knows that yonder, at that table, an old friend was ruined by him. M. de F. And if hazard did it all? George. No, sir, no; that old friend was deceived swindled. M. de F. Swindled? George! You believe it? was THE GAMBLER'S SON. M. de F. And if it were not true? 203 George. (Producing a pack of cards.) That pack of cards M. de F. What of them? George. They are they are O, shame! I can not say it! M. de F. Ah! you know not what real misery is. George. Shall I let you dishonor me? O, I have no longer a father! The name he gave me, here I give him back. I am but an orphan, without a home, without means; but still —— still, sir, I have a conscience left, and what that dictates I will obey to the death! Farewell! - M. de F. What would you, unhappy boy? Is it not enough that I am humbled thus?— that you see me blush and tremble before you - before my son? What would you more? Go! I fear you not! (He produces a pistol.) I fear nothing! George. (Placing himself before him.) I, too, sir, am without fear; and to me life is hateful. M. de F. What sayest thou? Be mine alone the — George. (Rushing to his arms.) Yes, yes! You are my father still. M. de F. O, anguish insupportable! George. All may be repaired. Go where will follow. This city-we must quit it. must be restored - must be restored, I say. yet be ours. Do not hesitate, my father! you will, your son This money - it Happiness shall M. de F. Think you I have never anticipated a situation like this? But fate has driven me on. George. What would you say ? M. de F. In our old house, beneath that humble roof where I suffered so much, my passion for play, that deadly passion which had devoured my substance, was not quite extinct. I sought in secret to satisfy it; often, to find the opportunity, I had to have recourse to men of the lowest grade, to vagabonds and ignoble gamblers. Yes, George, yes I, the Count de Ferrières I, your father, played with such! They taught me terrible secrets And yet I did not think to make use of them. But I returned one day to Paris, and there tried my fortune. It proved favorable. Considerable sums successively came to reänimate my hopes. I still was guiltless. But no, no! my heart was no longer so. The greed of gold had filled it wholly. Ambition, vanity, the need of luxury, all contributed to my infatua |