Gamester, der Spieler, welches im I. 1753 zuérst gegeben wurde, und anfånglich eine ziemlich kalte Aufnahme erhielt, weil man es zu erschütternd und angreifend fand. Vielleicht aber war mehr der darin auf eine so herrschende Lieblingss neigung geschehene Angriff an dieser falschen Delikatesse Schuld. Der Stoff hatte eine wahre, in Italien vorgefallne Geschichte zum Grunde, von der es auch eine besonders ges druckte Erzählung giebt, die aber von dem englischen Dichter, auf die Sitten seines Vaterlandes angewandt wurde. Ung streitig ist dieß Schauspiel eins der rührendsten und lehrreich, sien. Charaktere, Gesinnungen, Situationen und Sprache find darin meisterhaft bearbeitet. Saurin hat in seinem Des verley die Hauptzüge 'des Originals beibehalten, aber die Stärke der Sprache durch seine Umkleidung in französische Verse merklich geschwächt. Eine der stärksten Scenen des englischen Stücks ist die, wo Beverley im Gefångnisse das Gift nimmt, und gleich darauf von seiner Frau und Schwes ster besucht wird:

Beverley. Why, there's an end then. I have judg'd deliberately, and the refult is death. How the Self-murderer's account may stand, I know not. But this I know the load of hateful life oppresses me too much. The horrors of my foul are more (Offers to kneel) Father of mercy! Despair has laid his iron hand

than I can 'bear

I cannot pray

upon me, and feal'd me for perdition

Confci

ence! confcience! thy clamours are too loud Here's that fhall filence thee. (Takes a vial out of his pocket, and looks at it.) Thou art most friendly to the Miserable. Come then, thou cordial for fick minds come to my heart! (Drinks) O, that the grave wou'd bury memory as well as body! For if the foul fees and feels the fufferings of thofe dear ones it leaves behind, the 003 Ever

Everlasting has no vengeance to torment it deeper.

I'll think no more on't Reflection comes too but now 'tis

late Once there was a time for't

Jar. One that hop'd to fee you with better looks Why do you turn fo from me? I have brought comfort with me And fee who comes to give

it welcome.

Bev. My wife and fifter! Why, 'tis but one pang then, and farewel world!

(afide.)

Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY and CHARLOTTE.

Mrs. Bev. Where is he? (Runs aud embraces him.) O, I have him! I have him! And now they shall I have news, Love, to make But don't look coldly on me. Brother?

never part us more you happy for ever

Char. How is it,

Mrs. Bev. Alas! he hears us not

Love. I have no heart to fee you thus.

Speak to me,

Bev. Nor I to bear the sense of so much shame

This is a fad place,

Mrs. Bev. We come to take you from it. To tell you that the world goes well again. That Providence has seen our forrows, and fent the means to heal'em Your Uncle died yesterday,

1

Bev. Do I? The news was unexpected. But has he left me all?

Jar. All, all, Sir He cou'd not leave it

from you.

Bev. I'm forry for it...

Charl. Sorry! why forry?

Bev. Your uncle's death, Charlotte
Charl. Peace be with his foul then

terrible that an old Man fhould die?

Bev. He fhou'd have been immortal.

Is it fo

Mrs. Bev. Heaven knows, I wifh'd not for his death. Twas the will of Providence that he Thou'd

die Why are you difturb'd fo.

Bev. Has death no terrors in it?

Mrs. Bev. Not an old man's death, Yet if it troubles you, I wish him living.

Bev. And I, with

all my heart.

Charl. Why, what's the matter?

-

1

Bev. Nothing How heard you of his death?
Mrs. Bev. His fteward came express

I had never known it!

Wou'd

Bev. Or had heard it one day fooner For I have a tale to tell, fhall turn you into stone; or if the power of speech remain, you fhall kneel down and curse me.

Mrs. Bev. Alas! what tale is this? And why are

Bev. No; I have deferv'd no bleffings. The world holds not fuch another wretch. All this large fortune, this fecond bounty of heaven, that might have heal'd our forrows, and fatisfy'd our utmost hopes, in a curs'd hour I fold last night,

Charl. Sold! how fold?

Mrs. Bev. Impoffible! it cannot be !

Bev. That devil Stukely, with all hell to aid him, tempted me to the deed. To pay falfe debts of honour, and to redeem paft errors, I föld the Reversion fold it for a fcanty fum, and loft it among villains.

Charl. Why, farewel all then.

Bev. Liberty and life!

darfe me.

Come, kneel and

Mrs. Bev, Then hear me Heaven! (kneels) Look down with mercy on his forrows! give foftness to his looks, and quiet to his heart! take from his memory the sense of what is past, and cure him of despair! On me! on me! if misery must be the lot of either, multiply misfortunes! I'll bear'em patiently, fo he is happy! These hands fhall toil for his support! These eyes be lifted up for hourly bleffings on him! And every duty of a fond and faithful wife be doubly done to cheer and comfort him! So hear me! so hear

Bev. I wou'd kneel too, but that offended Heaven wou'd turn my prayers into curses. What have I to afk for? I, who have fhook hands with hope? Is it for length of days that I fhou'd kneel? No; my time is limited. Or is it for this world's bleffings upon you and yours? To pour out my heart in wishes for a ruin'd wife, a child and fifter? O! no! For I have done a deed, to make life horrible t'you.

Mrs.

Mrs. Bev, Why horrible? Is poverty fo horrible? The real wants of life are few A little industry will fupply'em all → And chearfulness will followIt is the privilege of honeft industry; and we'll enjoy it fully.

Bev. Never, never -O, I have told you but in part. The irrevocable deed is done.

Mrs. Bev. What deed?

fo at me?

And why do you look

Bev. A deed that dooms my soul to vengeance that seals your misery here, and mine hereafter!

Mrs. Bev. No, no; you have a heart too goode for't Alas! he raves, Charlotte

terrify me - Speak comfort to him done no deed of wickedness.

Charl. And yet I fear the worst

Brother?

Bev. A deed of horror.

his looks too

He can have

What is it,

This

Jar. Afk him no queftions, Madam laft misfortune has hurt his brain. A little time will give him patience,

XIII.

Broof c.

Henry Brooke, ein Irländer, starb als Aufseher der Baraten zu Mullingar in Irland, in der Grafschaft Wests meath, im J. 1783. Als Schriftsteller machte er sich vor: nehmlich durch seine Farmer's Letters bekannt, welche auf eine Empörung in Irland Bezug hatten, und in der Manier von Swift's Drapier's Letters geschrieben sind. Schon im J. 1738 sollte sein erstes Trauerspiel, Gustavus Vafa auf das Drurylane: Theater gebracht werden, und alles war zu dessen Vorstellung bereit, als sie auf einmal durch einen Befehl

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