University of Virginia Library

Scene Three.

—A Room in the Palace.
Enter the Knave of Hearts.
Kn. of H.
So far my game goes well. The King of Hearts
Is slain—his suit dispersed—his Queen a captive;
All, all through me! 'Twas I finessed the Tyrant,
I overlooked his hand, and told the foe
Exactly what he held. O, sweet revenge!
What! For I ate a paltry score of tarts
Made on a summer day by his fair Queen,
Must I be scorned, discarded, rhymes made on me
And set to filthy tunes? Forbid it, fate!
No, no; I'll not be called a knave for nothing.
Vengeance is fed crop-full; but Love! ah, Love!
Almighty Love is yet unsatisfied.
I'm sore perplexed. The Queen of Spades' blue eyes
Have driven the black ones of the Queen of Hearts

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Almost from out my nob; I must win both.
Intrigue and Matrimony! By Pope Joan!
The Knave—the poor despised Knave—will be
Within an ace of clearing all the board.
Air—Knave of Hearts—“The Minstrel Boy.”
The King of Spades to the chase has gone,
In the midst of the pack you'll find him;
He leads his suit to the black game on,
But his Queen he has left behind him:
An honour she is called to his throne,
And she bears like a saint her slavery;
But, like the rest of her sex, I own
She doats on a bit of knavery.
(Exit)