 | The Gamesters |  |
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 | |