 | The Gamesters |  |
ACT III.
Enter Wilding and Penelope.Wild.
This humour does become thee; I knew when
Thou didst consider what was offer'd thee,
Thy sullenness would shake off. Now thou look'st.
Fresher than morning; in thy melancholy,
Thy clothes became thee not.
Pen.
Y'are i'th' right;
I blam'd my taylor for't; but I find now,
The fault was in my countenance. Wou'd we had
Some musick; I could dance now; la, la, la,
[Sings and dances.
Wild.
Excellent! what a time shall I have on't?
Zounds, I am all on fire: how she glides!
Thou wot not fail, Pen?
Pen.
This night—
Wild.
At the hour of twelve.
Pen.
But you must be as punctual i'th' conditions,
For my vow's sake; not speak a syllable.
Wild.
I'll rather cut my tongue out than offend thee;
Kissing is no language.
Pen.
If it be not too loud;
We must not be seen together, to avoid
Should know on't.
Wild.
She shall die in ignorance.
Pen.
No light I charge you.
Wild.
The devil shall not see us
With his sawcer eyes: and if he stumble in
The dark, there sha'not be a stone i'th' chamber
To strike out fire with's horns. All things shall be
So close, no lightning shall peep in upon us.
Oh, how I long for midnight!
Pen.
I have a scruple.
Wild.
Oh, by no means, no scruples now.
Pen.
When you
Have your desires upon me, you will soon
Grow cold in your affection, and neglect me.
Wild.
Why, hang me if I do, I'll love thee ever;
I have cast already, to preserve thy honour;
Thou shalt be married in a fortnight, cuz;
Let me alone to find thee out a husband,
Handsome and fit enough; we will love then too.
Pen.
When I am married?
Wild.
Without fear, or wit;
Cum privilegio, when thou hast a husband;
Dost think I will forsake thee, Pen? 'twere pity
O my life, sweet—I shall love thee the better;
And I must tell thee—
'Tis my ambition to make a cuckold;
The only pleasure o'th' world: that imagination
Sweetens the rest, and I do love it mainly, mainly.
Pen.
'Tis double sin.
Wild.
'Tis treble pleasure, wench;
But we lose time, and may endanger thus
My wife into a jealousy, if she see us.
Farewel, farewel, dear Pen; at night remember;
I wo'not lose my sport for half an empire!
Pen.
O my fears, your wife's return'd.
Wild.
The devil she is! what shall we do, Pen?
I'll retire—but seem you more kind to her, lest
her suspicions shou'd betray us.
Wild.
I will do any thing—I have a holiday in my
heart—away, away.
[Exit. Pen.
Enter Mrs. Wilding.
Mrs. Wild.
What, Mr. Wilding so soon return'd—with
smiles upon your face too—this is unusual; what has
happen'd, pray?
Wild.
Why faith, wife, I have been reflecting on my conduct
towards thee, and could I but hope you would forget
my past behaviour, your life to come should be all sunshine.
Mrs. Wild.
Is not this change too sudden to be certain?
what has caus'd it, pray?
Wild.
Conscience, conscience, my dear—tho' vanity and
pleasure lull'd it for a time, it has now awak'd with all its
stings, and shewn me all thy virtues, and my errors.
Mrs. Wild.
Pray heav'n that I am awake, for this is so
like a dream.
Wild.
Don't you be an infidel, wife, and reject the
good now that is offer'd you. I tell you I'm another
man; I am converted—when did you see me before
with such pleasure in my face?
Mrs. Wild.
Not this many a day—Has our cousin
Penelope, husband, help'd forward this conversion?—If
she has, I am greatly oblig'd to her.
Wild.
You are, indeed, wife, much oblig'd to her;
she has done all in her power I can assure you.
Mrs. Wild.
Was not she here with you, at my coming
in?
Wild.
Yes, yes, she was here—she was indeed—was
here with me—I have open'd my mind to her—and with
much zeal and friendship to you, she has confirm'd me
in my new faith.
Mrs. Wild.
How much I am bound to her!
Wild.
Your are, indeed, wife:—You have not a
better friend in the world, I can tell you that—Now,
what do you want?
Serv.
Some gentlemen are waiting for you at the old
place, and desire your company.
Mrs. Wild.
You may tell them, that your master has
forsaken his old haunts, he has seen the folly of 'em,
and retires—
[Servant going.
Wild.
Hold, hold, wife—such a message as this will
make us the talk of the town; I will steal myself gently
from my friends and pleasures, and rather wean, than
tear myself from them—Let them know I will attend
them.
[Exit Servant.
Mrs. Wild.
As you please—Farewel, my penitent.—
Wild.
Farewel, my prudence—Had not this message
come luckily to my assistance, my hypocrisy had
been out of breath, and the devil had peep'd out, in
spite of all the pains I had taken to conceal it.
[Aside.
[Exit Wild.
Enter Penelope.
Pen.
How have I enjoy'd his confusion! faith, cousin,
you acted it bravely.
Mrs. Wild.
I am sorry that I am forc'd to dissemble.
Pen.
The best of us can, and must, upon proper
occasions.
Mrs. Wild.
Thou hast hit my instructions excellently.
Pen.
I have made work for somebody—you have
put me upon a desperate service; if you do not relieve
me, I am finely serv'd.
Mrs. Wild.
All has succeeded to my wish: thy place
I will supply to-night; if he observe all the conditions,
I may deceive my husband into kindness, and we both
live to reward thee better—O, dear cuz, take heed, by
my example, upon whom thou placest thy affections.
Pen.
Indeed, my dear, you take this too deeply; my
life for it, but we shall reclaim him at last.
Mrs. Wild.
That I almost despair of; and not so much
from his total disregard of me, and his pursuit of other
women, as from his uncontroulable passion for gaming.
He has understanding with all his frailties; and
when those violent, irregular inclinations have had their
scope, they must return to you.
Mrs. Wild.
The passion of gaming, my dear, is not
to be conquer'd even by the best understandings; it is
an absolute whirlpool; wit, sense, love, friendship,
and every virtue, are merely leaves and straws, that
float upon the surface of the tide; which, as they approach
this gulf, are all drawn in, and sink to the bottom,
as if they had never been.
Enter Hazard.
Pen.
Master Hazard—
Haz.
Save you, Mrs. Wilding.
Mrs. Wild.
You are welcome, sir.
Pen.
He is a handsome gentleman.
[Aside.
Haz.
Gone abroad?
Mrs. Wild.
This moment left us, and as I thought to
meet you, and his other sober friends.
Haz.
I call'd upon him to attend him.
Mrs. Wild.
The servant shall overtake him, and bring
him back to you.
Haz.
'Tis too much trouble.
Mrs. Wild.
What! for the best friend of the best of
husbands! you wrong me, sir.
[Exit Mrs. Wild.
Haz.
Thou art the best of women, I am sure—Ha!
this is the very gentlewoman!—in good time—Now for
my promise to old Barnacle—I'll accost her—What
a pity 'tis, this wench should be a morsel for that glutton
Wilding?
[Aside.
Pen.
What a pity 'tis, this fellow should be a gamester,
and companion of my modest guardian?—How
he eyes me?
[Aside.
Haz.
Your name is Penelope, I take it, Lady?
Pen.
If you take it, I hope you will give it me again.
Haz.
What again?
Pen.
My name.
Haz.
Would not you change it, if you cou'd?
Pen.
For the better, surely.
Wilt thou dispose of thyself?
Pen.
Can you tell me of any honest man, whom I
may trust myself with?
Haz.
I'll tell thee a hundred.
Pen.
Take heed what you say, sir,—a hundred honest
men! why, if there were so many in the city, 'twere
enough to forfeit their charter—but, perhaps, you live
in the suburbs.
Haz.
This wench will jeer me.
Pen.
I hope you are not one, sir.
Haz.
One of what?
Pen.
One of those honest men you talk'd of so, to
whom a maiden might intrust herself?
Haz.
You have hit me, lady; come, I'll give thee
counsel; and more, I'll help thee to a chapman too.
Pen.
Alas! no chapmen now-a-days. Gentlemen are
such strange creatures, so infinitely cold, and so void of
every passion, that a handsome woman cannot reach your
pity—Why have you this so strange antipathy to us?
To what end will gentlemen come, if this frost holds?
Haz.
You are witty; but I suppose you have no
cause of such complaint—though some men may want
warmth, there is no general winter; and if I guess
aright, you'll never be frost-nipt, lady—at least you
may prevent it.
Pen.
Are you acquainted with any knight errants,
who would succour a distrest damsel?
Haz.
Yes, I know of one—ay, and a bold one
too, that dares adventure with you; nay, will take you
for better and for worse.
Pen.
And is he young too?
Haz.
O, very young.
Pen.
And wise?
Haz.
Not over wise.
Pen.
Yourself, belike.
Haz.
Indeed, not over-wise, I must confess; nor yet
so witless, lady.
Pen.
Who is the hero? is he of your school? is it
from you that he has learnt to travel the fashionable
scour the streets a-nights, draw forth his valour, which
the bottle gives him, upon the feeble watch; but should
danger come—what would your hero then? ha, ha, ha!
Haz.
Hold, hold; you'll never get a husband, lady,
if thus you let your tongue out-run your wit.
Pen.
Is he to get then? I thought that he was ready
caught, and you had brought him in a cage.
Haz.
Will you accept him?
Pen.
What in a poke? unseen, untry'd? has the
youth no name?
Haz.
Ay, and a weighty one—'tis Barnacle; young,
rich and handsome.
Pen.
Was this at his intreaty, or your own kind
charity?
Haz.
Lookee, lady, lose not time in questions—
husbands are not so plenty—will you have him?
Pen.
I thank you for your goodness, sir,—and would
advise you, if you have more of these commodities, to
take 'em to another market—I am supply'd already—
and so your servant.
[Exit.
Haz.
Gad-a-mercy! thou art a girl of spirit;—supply'd
already? What can she mean?—not Wilding sure!
—impossible!—There is something about her, that
bespeaks her honest—I know not what to make of
her—she may be a tumbler for all this.
Enter Servant.
Serv.
My master, sir, will be at the appointment as
soon as possible—he must call at his banker's first,
and then he'll attend you.
[Exit.
Haz.
'Tis well;—this Penelope has touch'd me
strangely—she is certainly—but what's that to
me?—I'll go, and drown thought at the gaming-table.
Enter Sellaway and Boxkeeper.
Sell.
Was my message deliver'd to Wilding?
Box.
Yes, sir—he will certainly attend you.
Sell.
What gamesters have you within?
Box.
The old set, sir.
Sell.
What, no strangers?
Box.
A country gentleman or two.
Sell.
Will they make sport, think'st thou?
Box.
The rooks are about 'em: if they are full of
feathers (as I believe they are) we shall have rare
picking.
Sell.
Well, do you set them a-going, and I will be
among 'em presently.
Enter Hazard.
You are late, Hazard.
Haz.
I could not come sooner, but don't you lose
time—I must write a note, and will be with you at
the table presently.
Hazard alone.
What is the meaning, I can't tell, but it hurts me
to think that this foolish girl should so easily hearken to
the lewd call of this fellow Wilding—this abandon'd,
unfeeling fellow! perhaps 'tis his vanity—I did not
perceive, 'till she was in danger, that the agreeable jade
had given me any concern—What is the reason, that
to be eminently vicious is the readiest road to a woman's
heart; nay, even to the best of 'em?—but I'll rattle
this nonsense out of my head; I have a hundred in my
pocket, and the dice are set a dancing—I'll strike up
among 'em, and drown reflection—What, Wilding!
Wild.
Yes, you rogue, 'tis Wilding; the happy, gay,
rapturous Wilding! wish me joy, joy, man!
Haz.
What, is your wife dead?
Wild.
No, but my mistress is kind, which is very near
as good a thing.
Haz.
Thou art not mad.
Wild.
No, no; but I swell with imagination,
Like a tall ship bound for the fortunate islands;
Top, and top-gallant, my flags, and my figaries
Upon me, with a lusty gale of wind,
Able to rend my sails; I shall o'errun
And sink thy little bark of understanding,
In my career; I fly before the wind, boy.
Haz.
Pray heaven rather
You do not spring a leak, and forfeit your
Ballast, my confident man of war; I
Have known as stout a ship been cast away
In sight o'th' harbour.
Wild.
The wench, the wench, boy!
Haz.
The vessel you have been chasing—
Wild.
Has struck sail;
Is come in; and cries, aboard my new lord of
The Mediterranean. We are agreed:
This is the precious night, Will, twelve the hour,
That I must take possession of all, all,
You rogue you!—
Haz.
Prithee descend from thy raptures, for the gamesters
are now coming, and we lose time.
Wild.
The house fills a-pace; what are these, ha?
Haz.
Young Barnacle, and the vinegar bottle his man;
he has business of much import with you! he wou'd be
your rival with Penelope.
Wild.
And may, if he pleases, when I have made her
fit for him—If I have the first glass, he shall take the rest
of the bottle, and welcome—But are you in earnest?
Prithee talk to him, and hear his overtures—
He may be worth your list'ning to—I'll to the table
—if I win, I shall have no cause to repent my bargain
with him; if I lose, by these hilts, I'll make him the
cause, and beat him—Prithee keep him from me a
few minutes, and then I'll relieve thee.
Wild.
But how shall I do it?
Haz.
Tell him any whimsical tale; he is so absurd,
that it will go glibly down.
Wild.
I'll try his swallow then.
Haz.
Then luck with a hundred pieces!
[Exit.
Wild.
I must get a fool for her, and if this will bite,
he is ready got to my hands.
[Takes a news-paper out of his pocket.
Enter Nephew and Dwindle.
Neph.
Dwindle, that gentleman there is the guardian
to the lady that I am to be in love with—Shou'd not
I shew away to him, and astonish him with a little learning,
eh, Dwindle?
Dwin.
Do, sir,—let off a little Greek at him, and I
warrant he'll be proud to call you cousin.
Neph.
I am a little out of Greek at present, Dwindle;
but for Latin, history, and philosophy—What is he
reading, Dwindle?
Dwin.
Ask him, sir.
Neph.
Quem librum legis, domine?
Wild.
Have you any commands with me, sir?
Neph.
If you have any news, sir, pray impart—I have
a great appetite for news—vouchsafe me a slice.
Wild.
A meal if you please—be there no more gentlemen
to hear? 'tis extraordinary fine news, in black and
white, from terra incognita.
Neph.
Terra incognita! What has it no name?
Wild.
If it has, it is asham'd of it.
Neph.
But what are they doing there?
Nothing at all—'tis inhabited by a nation without
heads.
Neph.
Without heads! where are their eyes then?
Wild.
They lost them first, sir, then their heads; and
they say the distemper, if not stopt, will spread over the
rest of their body.
Neph.
O wonderful! a gentleman would not chuse to
travel there—Harkee, Dwindle, this is very curious.
Dwin.
Too curious to be true.
Neph.
He's upon his fun, Dwindle; I'll humour
him—But pray, sir, how can they know one another
without their heads?
Wild.
They don't; they are so chang'd, sir, they are
neither known by themselves or other people; having no
heads, sir, they are continually playing at Blindman's
buff, for the diversion of their neighbours.
Neph.
Monstrum! horrendum! informe! ingens! cui lumen
ademptum—ha! ha! ha!
Wild.
Ha! ha! extremely good; apt and witty.
Dwin.
Now's your time—to him, sir.
Neph.
I should be proud, sir, to have some nearer connections
with a gentleman of your learning, and profound
erudition.
Wild.
I should be happy to know how, sir, and proud
to be your friend and servant, in the true sense of the
words.
Neph.
Dwindle, my affairs are in a fine way—in every
sense, I am your humble servant in secula seculorum. You
must know, sir—
Wild.
I'll know it by and by, if you please—we are
interrupted; let us sport away a few pounds at the
table, and then I'll go to the tavern, and be at your service
in secula seculorum.
[Exit.
Neph.
Come along, Dwindle; if my fortune goes on
as swimmingly as she has begun, I shall make a rare night
on't.—If I get my mistress, and fill my pockets, we'll be
as drunk as lords—Come along, Dwindle.
[Exeunt.
Enter Littlestock and Acreless.
Litt.
A curse upon those reeling dice! that last in, and in;
Was out of way ten pieces. Can'st lend me any
Money? How have the dice dealt with thee?
Acr.
Lost, lost—I defy thee. If my luck recover not,
I must be sober to-morrow—damn'd, damn'd fortune!
Litt.
Oh, for a hundred, and all made now.
Enter Sellaway.
Sel.
Yonder's Hazard wins tyrannically, without
Mercy, he came in but with a hundred pieces.
Litt.
I'll get a fancy presently.
Acr.
And how thrive the bones with his lordship?
Sel.
His lordship's bones are not well set; they are
maliciously bent against him; they will run him quite out
of all.
Boxkeeper calls again several mains; and after some warm play, and much money is won and lost,
Enter Nephew and Dwindle.
Neph.
More money! Dwindle, call my uncle! I must
have it, for my honor: two hundred pieces more will
serve my turn: in the mean time, I will play away my
coat, and some superfluous things about me.
Dwin.
By that time you are come to your shirt, I shall
be with you.
Sell.
He's blown up too.
[Exit Dwin.
Haz.
So, so, the dice in two or three such nights will
be out of my debt; and I may live to be a landlord
again.
Sell.
You are fortune's minion, Hazard.
Haz.
You wou'd seem to be no fool, because she doats not
Upon you. Gentlemen, I must take my chance; 'twas
A lucky hundred pound! Jack Wilding,
Enter Wilding, knawing a box.
What eating the boxes?
Wild.
Chewing the cud a little; I have lost all my money, Will;
Thou hast made a fortunate night on't: wo't play
No more?
Haz.
'Tis the first time I had the grace
To give off a winner—I wou'd not tempt the dice.
Wild.
What hast won?
Haz.
You do not hear me complain;
I have not been so warm these ten weeks.
Enter Acreless.
Wild.
'Tis frost in my pockets.
Acr.
Master Hazard, I was afraid you had been
gone; there's a fresh gamester come in, with his pockets
full of gold: he dazzles the gamesters, and no man has
stock to play with him.
Wild.
The devil! what is he?
Acr.
A merchant he seems; he may be worth your return.
Haz.
Not for the exchange to-night, I am resolv'd.
Wild.
Temptation! now have I an infinite itch to this
merchant's pieces.
Haz.
Thou wo't venture again then?
Wild.
I wou'd if I cou'd—but what do I forget? the
wench, the fairy at home expects me.
I had forgot too: you wo'not play now?
Wild.
'Tis now upon the time.
[Looking at his watch.
Curs'd misfortune!
Haz.
You will not stay then.
Wild.
Hum—I ha' lost my money, and may recover a
pretty wench. Which hand? this wantonness; this covetousness;
money is the heavier. Will, dost hear? I'll
requite thy courtesy—lend me two hundred pounds to
attack the merchant, and I will give thee good interest,
and the best security.
Haz.
What, the dice! and your old luck, Jack?
Wild.
No, damn the dice—I will give it thee upon
Pen's fortune; she is so loving that I can command her,
and her's.
Haz.
No matter for her fortune, I'll be contented with
less; pay me with the girl herself.
Wild.
How do you mean?
Haz.
I'll be contented with her personal security.
Wild.
Prithee be plain; I am in haste, and every rattle
of the dice makes my heart beat to be at the merchant
—What wou'd'st have? I'll agree to any thing, every
thing—
Haz.
The wench at home expects you.
Wild.
Well—
Haz.
Let me supply thy place.
Wild.
Ha!
Haz.
And here are the two hundred pieces.
Wild.
What! no—no—
Haz.
Nay, then your servant.
[Going.
Wild.
Stay, Will—now, now the devil is at work with
me—he has thrown out two baits, and I know not which
to strike at.—
Haz.
I must take my money home—yours—Jack,
yours—
[Going.
Wild.
Stay, stay, thou shalt, Will—I love thee
for thy generosity—Gold is a real good, woman an
imaginary one—Besides, a losing gamester will make
but a cool lover; thou art warm'd with success, and deserv'st
her—She will be mine another time—Thou
shalt have her.
Shall I?
Wild.
Yes.
Haz.
Done.
Wild.
And done.
Haz.
There are bills for your money.
Wild.
To-morrow you'll thank me for't—Be secret,
she'll never know thee, for our conditions are to
[whispers
him.]
neither light, nor—and she must needs conceive
'tis I—Here's my key—It conducts you up
the back way into the house—The servants are in bed,
the first door on the right hand in the gallery leads to her
apartment.—
Haz.
Are you in earnest?
Wild.
Have you wit to apprehend the courtesie?
Let me alone; the wench and I shall meet
Hereafter, and be merry: take my key—
The merchant's money cools: away; be wise,
And keep conditions: I must to the gamester;
Farewel; remember not to speak a word.
Haz.
What kiss and tell; O, fie for shame—
Wild.
Success to thee, Will—
Haz.
And to thee, Jack.
[Exeunt severally.
Enter Mrs. Wilding and Penelope, with candles.
Pen.
I wish it may answer your purpose.
Mrs. Wild.
I cannot lose any thing by the tryal, the
scheme is an innocent one; and if I can but rouse my
husband a little from his lethargy, to the least sense of
shame, who knows what may happen?
Pen.
Hark!—are you sure you heard nothing?—
Mrs. Wild.
Nothing but your maid, going to bed—
Pen.
Not come yet—It is past the time too—'Tis
very strange!
Mrs. Wild.
Indeed, my dear Pen, this lover of yours is
most terribly unpolite.
Pen.
My vanity is a little mortified at it, I must confess
—A fine gallant, indeed!
You see child, this gaming! it destroys
every other passion, good or bad—And what hopes
think you have I to draw him from the spell, when even
you, Penelope, with all your charms, cannot break the enchantment?
Pen.
Who knows but there may be some better way
to account for his stay; why may not his conscience, and
his reason together, have debated this matter a little seriously?
and tho' they have been tollerably pliant heretofore,
may grow resty at a crime of this nature.
Mrs. Wild.
Come, come, let us not flatter ourselves
too far; his reason, and conscience are at present very
good friends with his passions, and attend him with great
alacrity in all his parties of pleasure.
Pen.
Hark! I am sure I hear him—
Mrs. Wild.
Indeed you are mistaken, 'tis your pride
now that fancies so—Don't imagine that he'll cast a
single thought upon you, while he has a single guinea in
his pocket.
Pen.
Ay, ay, that's your jealousy, cousin—But I
know—Upon my word I hear him—Indeed I do—
hark!—he's now unlocking the door.
Mrs. Wild.
No, no, hush—You are in the right
—I hear my thief—he's coming the back way—take
the candles into your chamber, and be ready to come in
at the signal—Bless me, how frighted I am!
Pen.
Are you, my dear? then do you take my part,
and I'll take yours.
Mrs. Wild.
Get you gone you fool; I am not in a
condition to trifle—I have more at stake than you imagine.
[Exit Penelope, with candles.]
Now for it; I
wish it was over.
[Sighs, and retires.
Enter Hazard.
Haz.
I thought I never should have got hither—but
where I am, I can neither feel or tell—And now I am
some qualms about this business—and were I not afraid
of being laugh'd at, I would certainly return—But
thanks to the spirit of the times, gentlemen are much less
afraid of being profligate than ridiculous.
[Feeling about.
Mrs. Wild.
He has certainly been drinking—by his
muttering so to himself—Now to catch my spark—
Hem, hem.
Haz.
There she is, and all my fears are fled—Hem,
hem.
[They approach, and when they meet, he offers to kiss her.
Mrs. Wild.
How violent he is! I have not had such a
favour from him these two years.
Haz.
How modest we are!
[She stamps.
Enter Penelope, with lights.
What's the matter! ha! a light—
Who have we got here? we are discover'd.
Mrs. Wild.
Discover'd! ha!
[Screams.]
—Who are
you?
Pen.
What's the matter here?
Haz.
Mrs. Wilding!
Mrs. Wild.
Mr. Hazard!
Pen.
Your servant, good folks!
(curtseying)
what my
good cousin and Mr Hazard at hide and seek in the
gallery, in my guardian's absence—you are a most generous
gentleman indeed! you are for providing every
way, I see, for distrest ladies.
Mrs. Wild.
For heav'ns sake, Mr. Hazard, how got
you here?
Haz.
Upon my soul, madam, I scarce can tell you.
Mrs. Wild.
You have squeez'd my fingers most unmercifully.
Pen.
So! so!
Haz.
Upon my soul, madam, it was all a mistake.
My errand at present was not with you, but with that
lady.
With me! what business pray, to pinch my
fingers?
Haz.
Here are my credentials—
(shews a key)
I
was only to act by deputation, from a certain friend of
mine.
Pen.
Which I suppose is a certain good guardian of
mine.
Mrs. Wild.
And who is most certainly my virtuous
husband.
Haz.
I am so astonish'd, I hardly know whether I am
awake.
Pen.
To be sure!—you unlock peoples doors, get
into their houses, seize upon their wives, and all in your
sleep.
Haz.
Ladies, tho' I may, perhaps, suffer in your opinions
by my silence—yet I could wish, for my friend's
sake, my own, and yours, that you would give me your
pardon, and peaceably send me about my business; for
indeed I am most sincerely asham'd and sorry.
Pen.
Poor, modest gentleman!—Had a housebreaker
been caught in the fact, he would have made just the
same apology—but no pardon from me, without a free
and full confession.
Mrs. Wild.
I can say nothing, Mr. Hazard, in your
justification; but if you have a mind to make all the
amends in your power, you will join with me in a plot I
have just now thought of; for tho' Mr. Wilding may
not have love enough to be jealous of me, I know he has
too much pride to be easy, if he thought I was false to
him; and what must he feel when he believes me innocently
so, and knows himself to be the cause of it.
Pen.
I adore you, my dear Mrs. Wilding, for the
thought; I long to be reveng'd on him for his base design
upon me, and now you have him in your power—
if you don't torment him thoroughly, I'll never forgive
you as long as I live.
Mrs. Wild.
Let me alone for that—Mr. Hazard has
only to behave, as if he had succeeded in his design
upon you, but let us confer notes together below stairs.
Ladies, you shall command my life, and my best
services.
Pen.
Best, and worst, they are always ready—I'll
say that for Mr. Hazard—
Haz.
Indeed, lady, you know but half of me.
Pen.
The worst half—
Haz.
I fear so; but let me assure you both, that with
all my frailties, I am much happier in forwarding this
scheme of virtue, than I should have been in the success
of my folly.
Mrs. Wild.
I am confident of it—don't mind her,
Mr. Hazard, but follow me.
Pen.
The Devil was sick, the Devil a monk would be;
The Devil was well, the devil a monk was he.
[Exeunt.
| The Gamesters | |