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Title: The Gamester
Date of first publication: 1761
Author: Susanna Centlivre (1667 - 1723)
Date first posted: Nov. 17, 2014
Date last updated: Nov. 17, 2014
Faded Page eBook #20141120

This eBook was produced by: Delphine Lettau
& the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net




THE GAMESTER:

A COMEDY.




Drawn from

 THE
 WORKS
 OF THE CELEBRATED
 Mrs. CENTLIVRE.

 VOLUME THE FIRST


 LONDON:

 Printed for J. Knapton, C. Hitch and L. Hawes,
 J. and R. Tonson, S. Crowder and Co. W. Bathoe,
 T. Lownds, T. Caslon, and G. Kearsly.
 M.DCC.LXI.


Dramatis Personæ.


MEN.

  _Sir_ Thomas Valere, _Father to_ Valere   } _Mr._ Freeman.
    _the Gamester_.                         }

  Dorante, _his Brother, in Love with_      } _Mr._ Corey.
    Angelica.                               }

  _Young_ Valere, _a Gentleman much in_     } _Mr._ Verbruggen.
    _Love with_ Angelica.                   }

  _Mr._ Lovewell, _in love with Lady_       } _Mr._ Betterton.
    Wealthy.                                }

  _Marquis of_ Hazard, _a supposed French_  } _Mr._ Fieldhouse.
    _Marquis_.                              }

  Hector, _Valet to Valere_.                  _Mr._ Pack.

  _Mr._ Galoon, _a Taylor_.                   _Mr._ Smeaton.

  _Count_ Cogdie,  }                        { _Mr._ Dickins.
  _1st Gentleman_, } _Three Gamesters._     { _Mr._ Weller.
  _2d Gentleman_.  }                        { _Mr._ Knap.

  _Box Keeper._                               _Mr._ Francis Lee.


WOMEN.

  _Lady_ Wealthy, _a very vain, coquettish_ } _Mrs._ Barry.
    _Widow, very rich, Sister to_ Angelica. }

  Angelica, _in Love with_ Valere.            _Mrs._ Bracegirdle.

  Betty, _Woman to the Lady_ Wealthy.         _Mrs._ Parsons.

  Favourite, _Woman to_ Angelica.             _Mrs._ Hunt.

  _Mrs._ Security, _one that lends Money_   } _Mrs._ Wallis.
    _upon Pawns_.                           }

  _Mrs._ Topknot, _a Milliner_.               _Mrs._ Fieldhouse.




THE GAMESTER.




THE PROLOGUE.

Written by N. ROWE, Esq.

Spoken by Mr. BETTERTON.


  _If humble Wives that drag the Marriage Chain_
  _With cursed dogged Husbands, may complain;_
  _If turn'd at large to starve, as we by you,_
  _They may, at least, for_ Alimony _sue._
  _Know, we resolve to make the Case our own,_
  _Between the_ Plaintiff Stage, _and the_ Defendant-Town.
  _When first you took us from our_ Father's _House,_
  _And lovingly our Interest did espouse;_
  _You kept us fine, caress'd and lodg'd us here,_
  _And_ Honey-Moon _held out above_ Three Year;
  _At length, for Pleasures known do seldom last,_
  _Frequent Enjoyments pall'd your sprightly Taste;_
  _And though at first you did not quite neglect,_
  _We found your Love was dwindled to Respect;_
  _Sometimes, indeed, as in your Way it fell,_
  _You stop'd, and call'd to see if we were well._
  _Now, quite estrang'd, this wretched Place you shun,_
  _Like bad Wine, Business, Duels, or a Dun._
  _Have we for this increas'd_ Apollo's _Race?_  }
  _Been often pregnant with your Wit's Embrace?_ }
  _And born you many chopping Babes of Grace?_   }
  _Some ugly Toads we had, and that's the Curse,_
  _They were so like you that they far'd the worse;_
  _For this to-night we are not much in Pain,_
  _Look on't, and if you like it, Entertain;_
  _If all the Midwife says of it be true,_
  _There are some Features too like some of you;_
  _For us, if you think fitting to_ forsake _it,_
  We _mean to_ run away, _and let the_ Parish take it.




ACT I.

_The Curtain draws up, and discovers_ Hector _in an Elbow-Chair, just
waking, yawning_.


_Hector._ Bless me! 'Tis broad Day-light; Who the Devil would serve
a GAMESTER! 'Tis a cursed Life, this that I lead. O, my dear Bed,
how seldom do I visit thee! When shall I be lapt in the Fold of thy
Embraces, and snore forth my Thanks? I, that could enjoy thee Four and
Twenty Hours together, am grown a perfect Stranger to thy Charms. O!
My precious Master! Now, Ten to one, will he come Home with an empty
Pocket; and then will he be confoundedly out of Humour; Then shan't I
dare ask him for any Dinner. Thus am I robb'd of the _two_ chiefest
Pleasures of my Life, _Eating_ and _Sleeping_.

     _Enter Mrs._ Favourite.

_Fav._ Good-morrow, Monsieur _Hector_: Where is your sweet Master?

_Hect._ Asleep.

_Fav._ I must see him.

_Hect._ My Master sees no body when he's asleep.

_Fav._ I must speak with him.

_Hect._ Indeed, sweet Mrs. _Favourite_, but you cannot.

_Fav._ P'shaw, I tell you I must, and will speak with him.

_Hect._ With who Child?

_Fav._ With who? Why with _Valere_.

_Hect._ Heark'e, would you speak with my Master in _propria Persona_, or
with his Picture?

_Fav._ Leave Fooling, for I come not upon so merry a Message as you
imagine.

_Hect._ Why then, to be serious, my Master is not come in; He's a Man of
Business, Child, and neglects his Ease to follow that.

_Fav._ Yes, yes, I guess the Business; he is at shaking his Elbows
over a Table, saying his Prayers backwards, courting the Dice like a
Mistress, and cursing them when he is disappointed. Between you and I,
_Angelica_ knows his Extravagance; and finding he breaks all the Oaths
he made against Play, resolves to see him no more.

_Hect._ If he has lost his Money, this News will break his Heart.

_Fav._ Tell him, that I say he has deceiv'd more Women than he has
played Games at Hazard; and----

_Hect._ You say--Ay, I find _Dorante_, my Master's Uncle, has given you
a retaining Fee: What should she do with that old Fellow?

_Fav._ Oh! He's a Lover ripe with Discretion.

_Hect._ Ay, but Women generally love green Fruit best: besides, my
Master's handsome.

_Fav._ He handsome! Behold his Picture just as he'll appear this
Morning, with Arms across, down-cast Eyes, no Powder in his Perriwig, a
Steenkirk tuck'd in to hide the Dirt, Sword-knot untied, no Gloves, and
Hands and Face as dirty as a Tinker. This is the very Figure of your
beautiful Master.

_Hect._ The Jade has hit it.

_Fav._ And Pocket as empty as a _Capuchin's_.

_Hect._ Hold, hold, this is Spite, mere Spite and burning Envy.

_Fav._ Ay, 'tis no Matter for that; I'll take Care he shan't deceive my
Mistress: For she that marries a Gamester that plays upon the Square,
as the Fool your Master does, can expect nothing but an Alms-House for
a Jointure. Once more I tell you, that _Dorante_ has both Reason and
_Favourite_ on his Side.

_Hect._ And we have Love on our Side; and Love never fails to conquer
Reason: For your Part, you are like the _Swiss_, take any side for Pay.

_Fav._ Is not _Valere_ asham'd, the only Son of such a Family, to leave
his Father's House, and sneak up and down in Lodgings.

_Hect._ You're mistaken, Mrs. _Favourite_; he did not leave his Father's
House: But his Father, who is as obstinate as the Devil, and as
ill-natur'd as a _Dutchman_, turn'd him out.

_Fav._ He was a dutiful Child in the mean Time. Well, you may take my
Word, he will have small Welcome at our House: I shall let my Lady know
he is a Gaming; so sweet Mr. _Hector_, adieu. [_Exit._

_Hect._ Farewell, Mrs. _Fripery_; I am glad I know my Master's Enemy
however. Ho! Here he comes.

     _Enter_ Valere, _in Disorder_.

_Val._ Sirrah, what's a Clock?

_Hect._ It is--in Troth, Sir, I have been up so long, I have forgot.

_Val._ Away, I am weary of your Fooleries. My Night Gown, quick, quick.
The Devil, the Devil.

_Hect._ Ah! I find where about he is, he swears between his Teeth.

_Val._ So hey! What, must I wait all Day? My Gown here!

     [Valere _still walks about, and_ Hector _still following him with
     the Gown_.]

_Hect._ 'Tis ready, Sir.

_Val._ What a Dog am I? I know I have no luck, yet can't forbear
playing. Oh, Fortune, Fortune! But why do I exclaim against her? I'll be
even with her I warrant her, she has made me lose, but I defy her to
make me pay, for the Devil a Souse have I.

_Hect._ Sir, Sir, please to put on your Gown, Sir.

_Val._ Get you to Bed, you Dog, and don't trouble me.

_Hect._ With all my Heart, Sir. [_Exit._

     [Valere _sits down in the Arm'd-Chair_.

_Val._ I think I am sleepy. Death! 'Tis impossible to sleep: [_Rises._]
For I can no sooner shut my Eyes, but methinks my evil Genius flings
Am's Ace before me. Why, _Hector_, Sirrah; that Rogue sleeps happy: Why,
_Hector_.

_Hect._ Sir----[_From the Bottom of the Stage unbutton'd._

_Val._ Sir--you Sot, are you never tir'd with sleeping?

_Hect._ Tir'd--Why, Sir, I han't had Time to unbutton my Coat yet.

_Val._ Was any Body here to ask for me?

_Hect._ Yes, Sir, Here was your Music Master, and your Dancing-Master.

_Val._ Ay, they want their Quarterage, I suppose.

_Hect._ They'll call again, Sir.

_Val._ Then I'm not at home, Sir.

_Hect._ Oh! I know that Sir. But, Sir, here was a kind of a--kind of a
shabby-look'd Fellow--He said his Name was _Cogdie_: He'll call again
too.

_Val._ I know him not. None else?

_Hect._ Yes, Sir, a Back-Friend of yours. Sir, may I be so bold as to
ask you one Question? Do you love the charming _Angelica_?

_Val._ Love her! I adore her!

_Hect._ Ah! That's an ill Sign. Now do I know he has not a Penny in his
Pocket. Ah, Sir, your Fob, like a Barometer, shews the Temper of your
Heart, as that does the Weather.

_Val._ Don't you imagine, whatever Passion I have for Play, that I have
Power to forget that amiable Creature!

_Hect._ Ah, Sir, but if that amiable Creature should have banish'd
you----

_Val._ Impossible!

_Hect._ Talk not of Impossibilities, good Sir, for pert Mrs.
_Favourite_ is just gone; who, I find, hates you, and swears her Lady
has declared for your Uncle. Ah, Sir--what she says is not altogether
false; [_Shaking his Head_] for notwithstanding you have sworn heartily
to _Angelica_ never to play again, you do throw away a merry Main; or
see, Sir----

_Val._ Cease your Impertinence; I give you Leave to jest upon my Losses,
but my Mistress touches my Heart, Sirrah.

_Hect._ [_Aside._] Ah! Love's Fever is always highest when the Cash is
at an Ebb. But, Sir, be not cast down, I have heard them say, a new
Passion is the only Thing to cure an old one. There's the charming Widow
of my Lord _Wealthy_, her Sister, richer than _Angelica_--Ah, Sir! Had
you but made your Addresses there.

_Val._ There! she is the only Woman I would avoid. She's a Coquet of the
first Rate; addresses all, and cares for none. How did she tyrannize
over my Friend _Lovewell_ before she married my Lord, tho' he is a
Gentleman without Exception? and now she's playing the same Game over
again; for the good-natur'd Fellow is in Love still.

_Hect._ Truly, Sir, I believe the _French_ Marquis will carry it.

_Val._ No, he is too much of her Temper. Heark! Who's there?

_Hect._ A Dun, I warrant.

_Val._ I am not within, Sirrah.

_Hect._ Oh, Sir! Your Father.

_Val._ Ah! That's worse; now will he rail as heartily against _Gaming_,
as the _Fanaticks_ against _Plays_.

     _Enter Sir_ Thomas Valere.

Sir _Tho._ What, what are you up? This is not a Gamester's Hour; or have
you not been in Bed all Night? That's most likely.

_Hect._ [_Aside._] He's the Devil of a Guesser. Indeed my Master keeps
as early Hours as any Man, I'll say that for him.

Sir _Tho._ Hold your Tongue, Sirrah, or I shall break your Head; your
Freedom will not pass on me.

_Hect._ Your most humble Servant, Sir; I've done, Sir, I've done.

Sir _Tho._ I am come to make the last Trial of you, Sir. Your Course
of Life is so very scandalous, that unless I see a speedy and sincere
Reformation, I have resolv'd to disinherit you; then try if what has
ruin'd you, will maintain you: But, do you hear, quit the Name of your
Ancestors, who never yet produc'd such a Profligate. The Estate has not
been reserved so long in the Family to be thrown away at Hazard.

_Hect._ Short and pithy: We are in a hopeful Way. [_Aside._]

_Val._ Sir, I have been revolving in my Mind all my Acts of Folly, and
am asham'd that I harbour'd them so long, and now am arm'd with manly
Resolutions; forgive my past Faults, and try my future Conduct.

Sir _Tho._ If I could believe thee real, my Joys would be compleat.

_Hect._ Ah! I smoak the Design; a little Money is wanting. [_Aside._]

_Val._ My cruel Uncle, who never was a Friend to you, now endeavours to
supplant me in _Angelica's_ Heart; you know I live but in her.

Sir _Tho._ I know your Love, and the only Thing I like in you: She's a
virtuous Lady, and her Fortune's large; 'tis base, and most unfit my
Brother's Years, to become your Rival.

_Hect._ Ah, Sir, if my Master loses her, I dare swear it will break his
Heart. In my Conscience, I believe it is Love keeps him awake, and puts
Gaming into his Head.

Sir _Tho._ Well, Son, if you obtain her, I'll forgive your Fault, and
pay your Debts once more.

_Val._ Sir, I don't doubt it; but I'm a little out of Money at present.

_Hect._ Humph!

_Val._ Money, Sir, is an Ingredient absolutely necessary in a Lover: A
Hundred Guineas would accomplish my Design.

_Hect._ As I guess'd.

Sir _Tho._ At your old Trick again--No, no; I have been too often
cozen'd with your fair Promises.

_Val._ Try me this Time; lend me but Fifty.

Sir _Tho._ No.

_Val._ Twenty.

Sir _Tho._ No.

_Val._ Ten.

Sir _Tho._ No.

_Hect._ Hard-hearted _Jew_. [_Aside._]

_Val._ Five, Sir; for I can't go without some Money.

Sir _Tho._ Not a Souse from me.

_Hect._ One, Sir; that we may dine: for I am sure my Master has not a
Groat, by his Humility.

Sir _Tho._ No; if you are hungry, go fling a merry Main for your Dinner.

_Hect._ Ah, Sir, I never was so well bred: Besides, I hate trusting to
Chance for my Food.

Sir _Tho._ I admire you have liv'd so long with your Master then. Look
ye, _Valere_, get you to _Angelica_; out with your Uncle, and you shan't
want Money. In the mean Time, Sirrah, do you get me a List of his Debts.

_Hect._ Yes, Sir--There's some Hopes I may come in for my Wages.
[_Aside._]

_Val._ Sir, I obey you in every Thing----and fly to _Angelica_. Hearkye,
Rascal, get me some Money, or I will cut your Ears off. [_Aside to_
Hector.] [_Exit._

_Hect._ Money! Mercy on me; where shall I get it? Well, I think I am
bewitch'd to him. [_Exit._

Sir _Tho._ If I can but reclaim my Child, and match him to _Angelica_, I
shall date the happiest Part of my Life from this Moment.

     _Enter_ Cogdie.

_Cog._ Sir, your most humble Servant; is not your Name _Valere_?

Sir _Tho._ It is, Sir.

_Cog._ I come to offer you my best Service.

Sir _Tho._ In what, pray Sir?

_Cog._ Sir, I am Master of all Sorts of Games, and live by that noble
Art. My Name is _Cogdie_, call'd by some Count _Cogdie_.

Sir _Tho._ He takes me for my Son? I'll humour it, and hear what the
Rogue has to say. [_Aside._] Well, Sir, what then?

_Cog._ Hearing of your ill Fortune at Play, I came, out of pure
Generosity, to teach you the Management of the Die.

Sir _Tho._ The Management of the Die; Why, is that to be Taught?

_Cog._ O! Ay, Sir; to learn to cog a Die nicely, requires as good a
_Genius_ as the _Study_ of the Mathematics. Now, Sir, here is your true
Dice, a Man seldom gets any Thing by them: Here is your false, Sir, hey,
how they run. Now, Sir, those we generally call Doctors.

Sir _Tho._ The _Consumption_ rather. Mercy upon me! What is our World
come to! [_Aside._]

_Cog._ Come, throw a Main, Sir, then I'll instruct you how to nick it;
he is very dull. I tell you, Sir, in this Age, 'tis necessary that
Children learn to play before they learn to read.

Sir _Tho._ I tell you, Sir, that I am amaz'd the Government never
preferr'd you to the Pillory for your wonderous Skill.

_Cog._ I find his ill Fortune has put him horribly out of Humour: I say
again, that learning to play is of more Use, than _Fa, La, Mi, Sol_, or
cutting a Caper.

Sir _Tho._ I'll _Fa, La_, Caper, you Dog; know I am his Father, and
hate Gaming, and all such Rascals as you are. But stay, I'll pay you
your Wages for the Care you took of my Son.

_Cog._ Sir, your humble Servant, Sir, not a Penny, Sir.

Sir _Tho._ No, Sir, a Cane.

_Cog._ Not in the least, Sir: I, I, I, would not give you the Trouble by
no Means, Sir. What a Sot was I, to mistake the Father for the Son.
[_Exit running._

      _Enter_ Hector _running_.

_Hect._ O, Sir! Undone! Undone! Undone!

Sir _Tho._ Undone! when wert thou otherwise?

_Hect._ Ah, Sir, but my Master, my Master--

Sir _Tho._ What of him? Surely he was given me for a Curse.

_Hect._ Ah, Sir! As my Master was just stepping into _Angelica's_
Lodging, so nicely drest; his Wig, I believe, had a Pound of Hair, and
Two Pound of Powder in it; he look'd so pretty, that had she but seen
him, she must have lov'd him, tho' her Heart had been made of Brass: But
just as he was stepping in----

Sir _Tho._ She ordered her Footman to shut the Door upon him, I suppose,
hearing of his continued Extravagance.

_Hect._ No, no. Sir, worse than that; a slovenly filthy Fellow whipt his
Sword from his Side, whilst another, as bluff as a Midnight Constable,
slapt him on the Back with an Action of Forty Pounds.

Sir _Tho._ Ha! And did _Angelica_ see it?

_Hect._ No, no, Sir, we being cunning, wheedled 'em to the Tavern; and
'tis but giving 'em a lusty Bottle, Sir, and I warrant we get it off for
ten Guineas.

Sir _Tho._ How's this, an Action of Forty Pounds got off for Ten
Guineas? I suspect a Trick--Come, shew me the Way to this Tavern.

_Hect._ What shall I do now? Sir, I, I, I came in such Haste that I
never thought to look up at the Sign.

Sir _Tho._ Then you are likely to carry the Money, Sirrah; Sirrah, this
Sham won't take; the next Time, Rascal, lay your Lies closer, Rogue.
[_Slaps him._] [_Exit._

_Hect._ Ah _Hector_, _Hector_! Thou art no good Plotter. Well, I draw
this Comfort from it, however, I shall never dread the Gallows for
Plotting.

     _Enter_ Valere.

_Val._ Well, I have over-heard all; I thought what your Projects would
come to.

_Hect._ Why, Sir, the wisest Men sometimes fail; and you must own, that
I study as hard as a starving Poet for your Interest: But if my Plots,
like their Poetry, miscarry, 'tis no Fault of mine.

_Val._ You'll still be witty out of Season; but pr'ythee what's to be
done now?

_Hect._ Oh, Sir! Yonder goes Mrs. _Security_, who lent you once a
Hundred Guineas upon your Diamond Ring that you lost at Play.

_Val._ I remember I gave her Fifty for the Use of it: But, however,
call her in this Extremity, and bring up a Bottle of Sack with you.
[_Exit_ Hector.] Now for the Art of Persuasion to squeeze this old
Spunge of fifty Guineas, that may make me Master of a thousand before
Night.

     _Enter_ Hector _and Mrs._ Security.

_Val._ Mrs. _Security_, good morrow.

Mrs. _Sec._ Mr. _Valere_, your very humble Servant.

_Val._ A Chair there, quickly. Mrs. _Security_, let us renew our old
Acquaintance, and cement it with a Glass of Sack.

Mrs. _Sec._ Oh, dear Mr. _Valere_! I never drink in a Morning.

_Val._ What, not a Glass of Sack? Come, _Hector_, fill. My Service to
you.

Mrs. _Sec._ Pray, young Man, give me but a little.

_Val._ Fill it up, I say.

Mrs. _Sec._ Oh! dear Sir! Your Health. [_Drinks half._

_Val._ What, my Health by Halves? I'll not bait you a Drop.

Mrs. _Sec._ Well, I profess it will be too strong for me.

_Val._ _Hector_, does not Mrs. _Security_ look very handsome?

_Hect._ Truly Sir, I think she grows younger and younger.

Mrs. _Sec._ Away, you make me blush.

_Hect._ Ah! She'll have another Husband, I see by those Roguish Eyes.

Mrs. _Sec._ Fie, fie, Mr. _Hector_; these Eyes have done nothing but
wept since my good Husband, _Zekiel Security_, died; and the more
because he died suddenly. [_Weeps._]

_Hect._ Suddenly! Good lack! Good lack! It e'en makes me weep to think
on't.

Mrs. _Sec._ He died in his Vocation just sealing a Bond.

_Val._ Ah! Would thou wert with him, so I had a little of thy Money.
[_Aside._] _Hector_, fill t'other Glass to Mrs. _Security_ to wash away
Sorrow.

Mrs. _Sec._ O, dear Sir, I thank you for your Civility; and you shall
find me always ready to serve you.

_Val._ I do believe you Mrs. _Security_, and have Occasion to try your
Kindness.

_Hect._ Ay, my Master pitch'd upon you.

_Sec._ He knows he may command me.

_Val._ I would borrow fifty Guineas, Mrs. _Security_, which shall be
repaid--

_Sec._ I don't doubt it, Sir, in the least; for you know my Way--A
Pledge--If it be not quite double the Value, I won't stand with a
Friend: and it shall be as safe as my Eyes, that I assure you.

_Val._ Humph!

_Hect._ Ah, Duce on't, here's the Sack lost.

_Sec._ You had your Ring again, Mr. _Valere_: And I hope you don't
mistrust me now.

_Val._ Mistrust you? No, no, Madam. _Hector_, fetch Mrs. _Security_ a
pledge.

_Hect._ A Pledge, Sir? Bless me! What does he mean now? A Pen and Ink,
Sir?

_Val._ Ay, ay, Mrs. _Security_ shall have my Note.

_Hect._ As good as any Pledge in _England_.

_Sec._ It may be so--But I promised good _Zekiel_ to be wary of the
Money he left me: Yea, and I will be very wary.

_Hect._ And very wicked--

_Val._ Refuse my Note! I scorn your Money.

_Hect._ I'd have you to know, my Master's Note is as good as a
Banker's--sometimes, when the Dice run well. [_Aside._]

_Sec._ Nay, if you are angry for my fair Dealing, good morrow to you.

_Hect._ O, Impudence! She calls _Cent. per Cent._ fair Dealing--Go thy
Ways, but take my Curse along with thee. May some Town-Sharper persuade
that sanctify'd Face into Matrimony, and in one Night empty all thy Bags
at Hazard.

_Sec._ Your Wishes hurt not me, ill-manner'd Fellow. I'd have you to
know, if I would marry again, I could have a--

_Val._ Nay, nay, Mistress, if we must have none of your Money, let's
have none of your Impertinence.

_Hect._ Be gone, be gone, Woman, be gone. [_Pushes her off._

_Val._ Oh! Deep Reflection--would I could avoid thee: To become the
Scoff of mercenary Wretches--And thro' my own Mismanagement, reduc'd to
base Necessity. Oh, _Angelica_! I'll cast a real Penitent beneath thy
Feet.

  _And if once more thy Pardon I obtain,_
  _Love in my Heart shall the sole Monarch reign._


_The End of the_ FIRST ACT.




ACT II.

_Enter_ Angelica _and_ Favourite.


_Ang._ After all his solemn Promises to quit that scandalous Vice, when
he can hold my Love upon no other Terms, does he still pursue that
certain Ruin to his Fame and Fortune? But I resolve to banish him my
Heart, which he has justly lost by his perfidious Dealing. I feel, I
feel my Liberty return; and I charge thee, _Favourite_, speak of him no
more.

_Fav._ No, no, Madam, fear not me; I hate him for your Sake, Madam: Was
he like his Uncle; there's the Man for my Money.

_Ang._ Because you have a large Share of his, I suppose: Old Men must
bribe high. Name neither to me, I hate Mankind. [_Exit_ Favourite.

     _Enter Lady_ Wealthy.

L. _Weal._ Well said, Sister; I hate Mankind too, and yet the Fellows
will follow me; but who is the Man that has put you out of Conceit with
the whole Sex? _Valere?_

_Ang._ The same; no other had ever Power to shock my Quiet----Nor shall
he; for this Moment I'll 'raze him from my Thoughts.

L. _Weal._ If she holds her Resolution, I am happy. [_Aside._] That
Task may prove more difficult than you imagine, Sister. Come, come, this
is a Flight of sudden Passion, that would fall upon the Sight of
_Valere_.

_Ang._ You mistake, Sister, my Resentment is grounded upon Reason.

L. _Weal._ I know he has given you Cause enough: But Love is blind; had
a Man used me so, I should have suspected his Reality sooner.

_Ang._ Why, do you think he loves me not?

L. _Weal._ It looks with such a Face--

_Ang._ Why then did he take Pains to be reconcil'd?

L. _Weal._ Gallantry, mere Gallantry; and she that cannot distinguish,
often mistakes it for a real Amour. Ah, _Angelica_! You are but a Novice
yet, and don't understand the Beau-Monde. A Woman should always speak
more than she thinks, and think more than she writes, or she'll ne'er be
upon the Square with Men.

_Ang._ I shall neither write nor speak to any of 'em for the future, I
assure you.

L. _Weal._ And do you positively think you could resist _Valere_, if he
should come in this Minute?

_Ang._ I do, positively.

L. _Weal._ What, in his most moving Air? For you know he is Master of a
false insinuating Tongue: Should he, I say, throw himself at your Feet
in a Tone of Tragedy; cry, Forgive me, _Angelica_, or kill me if you
please; I'll not oppose the Blow, nor strive to save my Life by one poor
Word--I love you, and only you: Does not your Soul tell you so in my
Behalf? Will you not answer me? Then, rising from his Knees, Will then,
says he, Nothing but my Death wipe out my Fault? Give it me then, cruel
Fair; for now to live is Pain. If I have lost you, I have lost all
that's worth my Care. Then offers to draw his Sword; at Sight of which
you are melted into Pity, and once again betray'd. Is not this true,
_Angelica_? Ha, ha, ha.

_Ang._ I confess I have too often been deceiv'd--but now he shall find I
am upon my Guard--and were he the only one remaining of his Sex, I would
not--if I know my Heart--marry him.

L. _Weal._ I'm pleas'd to hear your Resolution; and doubly pleas'd to
find you Mistress of your Passion--'Tis a Point of Wisdom to cashier
such Follies as blind our Sense, and make our Judgment err.

_Ang._ 'Tis very true.

L. _Weal._ Believe me Sister--I had rather see you married to Age,
Avarice, or a Fool--than to _Valere_,--for can there be a greater
Misfortune than to marry a Gamester?

_Ang._ I know 'tis the high Road to Beggary.

L. _Weal._ And your Fortune being all ready Money will be thrown off
with Expedition--Were it as mine is indeed--But are you sure your Heart
is disengaged?

_Ang._ Why, do you doubt it?

L. _Weal._ I have a Reason, Sister, that when you have satisfy'd me you
shall know.

_Ang._ Then be satisfy'd--I will never see him more--Now the Secret.

L. _Weal._ Why, then know I love him.

_Ang._ How! You!

L. _Weal._ Yes, I; where's the Wonder?

_Ang._ You that advis'd against the Gamester.

L. _Weal._ That was for your Good, Sister----Our Circumstances are
different--My Estate's intail'd enough to supply his Riots, and why
should I not bestow it upon the Man I like?

_Ang._ What in that Mourning Weed resolv'd on Matrimony, and is
your Lord forgot already--Did I take such Pains in rubbing your
Temples, whilst _Favourite_ apply'd the Harts-horn to your Nose,
when the fainting Fits came thicker and thicker, and was it all
but Affectation--And does your dead Husband's Picture, that dangles
at your Watch there, serve only to put you in Mind of another?

L. _Weal._ And where's the Crime--I lov'd him living as much as any
Wife, or rather more; and did what Decency required when he died--But
being free, I'm free to chuse.

_Ang._ Then who so fit as _Lovewell_ for your Choice, whose honourable
Love has long pursu'd you.

L. _Weal._ You are not to direct my Inclination.

_Ang._ Nor you mine--_Favourite_, [_Enter_ Favourite,] if _Valere_
comes, I will see him--That Good you have done, Sister.

 _Fav._ See him Madam!     }
                           }  _Exeunt_ Ang. _and_ Fav.
 _Ang._ Yes, Impertinence. }

L. _Weal._ Ay, see him if thou wilt, but to little Purpose--I doubt not
his Return, when once he finds Encouragement, 'tis his Awe has kept him
silent, not that I care much for him neither; but it is the greatest
Mortification in Nature to see a handsome Fellow make Love to another
before one's Face.

     _Enter_ Footman.

_Footm._ Madam, the Marquis of _Hazard_ to wait on your Honour.

L. _Weal._ Pugh, that Fool.

     _Enter_ Marquis.

_Marq._ Hey, let my three Footmen wait with my Chair there--the Rascals
have come such a high Trot--they've jolted me worse than a Hackney
Coach----and I'm in as much Disorder--as if I had not been dress'd to
Day--Pardon me, Madam, I took the Liberty to adjust myself, e'er I
approach'd you.

L. _Weal._ You are the exact Mode of Dress--but Monsieur _Marquis_,
methinks you are grown perfect in our Tongue.

_Marq._ The Value I have for the _English_ Ladies, made me take
particular Pains in the Study----Duce on't, I shall be discover'd, if I
forget my _French_ Tone--_Ah, Madam, Vous parlez François mieux que je
parle l'Anglois._

L. _Weal._ Ah, _Point de tout Monsieur_.

_Marq._ But there's no Language like the _Eyes_, Madam--and _Yours_
would _set the World on Fire_.

L. _Weal._ O, Gallant.

     _Marquis_ sings to the _Widow_.

  _IN vain You sable Weeds put on,_
  _Clouds cannot long eclipse the Sun;_
  _Nature has plac'd you in a Sphere,_
  _To give us Day-light all the Year;_
              _'Tis well for those_
              _Of_ CUPID's_ Foes,_
  _That your Beauties thus shrouded lie;_
              _For when that Night_
              _Puts on the Light,_
  _What Crouds of martyr'd Slaves will die!_

      SINGS to the _Gamester_, when he has won Money.

  _FAIR Celia, she is nice and coy,_
      _While she hold the lucky Lure;_
  _Her Repartees are Pish and Fie,_
      _And you in vain pursue her._

  _Stay but till her Hand is out,_
    _And she become your Debtor,_
  _Address her then, and without Doubt,_
      _You'll speed a great deal better._

              _It is the only Way_
              _When she has lost at Play,_
              _To purchase the courted Favour,_
              _Forgive her the Score,_
              _And offer her more,_
              _I'll lay my Life you have her._

_Marq._ I had like to have fought last Night, for Asserting your
Prerogative of Beauty.

L. _Weal._ With whom pray?

_Marq._ With _Valere_, whose continual Toast was your Sister: I must
confess it has given me a passionate Desire of seeing her, that I may
hereafter with greater Assurance maintain your Cause.

L. _Weal._ What would the Fellow have me introduce him--My Cause don't
want your Sword.

_Marq._ She's jealous already; if my Footmen observe my Orders, she'll
secure me here for Fear of losing the Prize. [_Aside._]

L. _Weal._ This Fool's doubly my Aversion----now he has nam'd my Sister.
Would I were rid of him.

_Marq._ Has your Ladyship play'd at Court this Winter?

L. _Weal._ In my Weeds?

_Marq._ I ask your Pardon, Madam, but that Beauty and Gaiety nothing can
eclipse. Who can look on you, and mind your Dress?

L. _Weal._ That's well enough exprest--But nothing that he says can
please me now.

     _Enter_ Footman, _and gives a Letter_.

_Footm._ A Footman in Green, Monsieur, waits for an Answer. [_Exit_
Footman.

_Marq._ Is this a Time? Let him wait at the Chocolate-House at _St.
James's_ an Hour hence----Oh, Madam, did you know how I languish for
you!

L. _Weal._ When did I give you Leave to make a Declaration of your
Love----Monsieur----pray, read your Letter, and give the Lady an Answer.

_Marq._ I confess it comes from a Lady----but if----

     _Enter another_ Footman.

_Footm._ My Lady _Gamewell_ has sent three Times for you, and will not
begin to play till you come.

_Marq._ _Allez Vous en Coquin_----Let her stay. [_Exit_ Footman.

L. _Weal._ Insolence! what does the Fellow mean?

_Marq._ 'Tis the greatest Fatigue in Nature to hold a Correspondence
with Impertinence----but your Ladyship is the Reverse of--

     _Enter another_ Footman.

_Footm._ Sir, the Lady _Amorous_ begs the Honour of your Company this
Minute; Sir _Credulous_ is just gone out of Town.

_Marq._ _Le diable t'emporte_--out of my Sight--Am I not engag'd!

L. _Weal._ Engag'd! Upon my Word you are not--What House is the Place
you appoint to receive your Assignations in----

_Marq._ No, upon my Honour, Madam----but I presume they have searched
the whole Town----and seeing my Equipage at your Door, were so audacious
to send in their Message----but I'll turn away my Footmen for this
Embarrassment.

L. _Weal._ Pray, let not my House be distinguish'd by you, nor your
Equipage for the future----I am not to be us'd so, (_angerly_.) Now for
a set and grave Face to put me more out of Humour, if possible----

     _Enter_ Lovewell.

_Love._ You seem in Disorder, Madam----

L. _Weal._ Who can be otherwise, when People take Liberty beyond the
Bounds of good Manners,----

_Love._ Who dares in my Lady _Wealthy's_ House?

     [_Looking angerly at the Marquis._

_Marq._ Upon my Soul, Sir, she takes it quite wrong----Or
she's----confoundedly jealous.

_Love._ Sir, I am positive that Lady cannot be in the wrong; and read it
in her Looks, your Absence wou'd please her----

_Marq._ Sir----

_Love._ No Words here, Sir----if you wou'd dispute it, I'll meet you
when and where you please----

_Marq._ Your most humble Servant--[_In a low Voice._] You shall hear from
me----Hey, hey, who's there?----My Servants----Madam, as your Ladyship
said, I'm not to be us'd thus----[_Exit._

L. _Weal._ Monsieur----He's gone, I wou'd not lose the Fop neither----

_Love._ Gone, Madam! so you would have him, I suppose.

L. _Weal._ You suppose! how dare you suppose my Thoughts----and who gave
you this Privilege in my House? Shortly I shall be wish'd Joy; for this
is a Prerogative above a depending Lover.

_Love._ I plead no Merit; and my long successless Love assures me I have
no Power----but I understood----

L. _Weal._ You understood! Ay, you always understand wrong, Mr.
_Lovewell_.

_Love._ I do confess I wander in the Mazes----and still pursue a
Brightness which I cannot fix----To please you has been my long and only
Study; witness the many Years of awful Servitude I paid your
Virgin-beauty, and the Pains I felt when I beheld you wedded to another:
I could not bear the Sight, but in a cruel Banishment pass'd my unlucky
Hours, till Fate in pity set you free, but all in vain, for still my
Portion is Despair.

L. _Weal._ Nay, if you are running into that grave Stuff----I must
leave you, tho' in my own House--for I have got the Spleen intolerably,
and cannot endure it.

_Love._ No, Madam, I'll retire----I love too much to disobey----Only
when you reflect on your admiring Slaves, think on my Fidelity. [_Exit._

L. _Weal._ Thou art a poor constant Fool, that's the Truth on't----and
thou hast Merit too, I'll say that for thee----but we Women don't always
mind that----Here comes the present Ascendant of my Heart----

     _Enter_ Valere.

_Val._ Ha, the Widow here----now could I make her my Friend? Now for a
serious Face----and an Heroic Stile----Madam----

L. _Weal._----Sir----

_Val._ My Stars shed their kindest Influence to Day, and blest me with
the Opportunity of finding you alone--Pity is essential to the Fair, and
ought to be extended to those that sink beneath the Rigour of their
Chains--

L. _Weal._ 'Tis the Diversion of your Sex to complain; I believe Mr.
_Valere_ finds few barbarous in ours----

_Val._ None more unfortunate in Love than I, and tho' my Heart is
breaking, I'm forbid to tell my Pain.

L. _Weal._ I hope 'tis to my wish--It may be me he means, else why
this Address----She must be very cruel, that lets you sigh without
Return----Is it in my Power to assist you----

_Val._ Oh, Madam, All, All's in your Power----You rule my Fate----

L. _Weal._ Then you shall be happy----'tis so----

_Val._ On my Knees let me receive the Confirmation of your
Promise----and seal it here----[_Kneels and kisses her Hand._

     _Enter_ Angelica.

_Ang._ Ha! kneeling to my Sister, faithless Man----

_Val._ There, Madam, there's the angry Brow, that darts Distraction to
my Peace: Your Aid to clear that Storm is what I su'd for----

L. _Weal._ Insufferable ill Breeding----

_Val._ Oh, _Angelica_! I cast me at your Feet.

_Ang._ No, back to my Sister's, there I found you.

_Val._ Only to intercede to you----

L. _Weal._ False, by my Honour, he was making violent Love----I'll teize
her however.

_Val._ Making Love; what does she mean?

_Ang._ And you receiv'd it, I suppose.

L. _Weal._ You interrupted me, e'er I could give my Answer----

_Val._ Why, Madam, my Design you know.

L. _Weal._ Yes, yes, Mr. _Valere_, I know your Design--I have not had so
many sighing, dying Lovers, but I can guess the Design----

_Val._ But mine was----

L. _Weal._ Oh, fie, don't declare it here--You know my Sister has a
Passion for you----and I wou'd not tyrannize----

_Ang._ 'Tis not in your Power----

_Val._ Oh, the Devil----Madam, I own 'tis an Offence to a Lady of your
Beauty and Merit, to make a Declaration of Love.

L. _Weal._ Not at all, Sir,----when one likes the
Person----I'll----consider on't----but, hark'ee, do not deceive my
Sister too far, it may be dangerous.

_Ang._ 'Tis not in your Power----or his, to deceive me; I see thro' your
shallow Artifices, and despise it.

L. _Weal._ Those that rely upon their own Judgment are soonest caught.
Sister----Remember, I have given you fair Warning----[_Exit._

_Val._ I'm in amaze----

_Ang._ You need not----I know my Sister's Design----but that's not my
Quarrel to you----Quarrel did I say? No, I am grown to a perfect State
of Indifference----Quarrels may be reconciled----but a Man that basely
breaks his Word, and forfeits Faith and Honour, is not worth our Anger,
but deserves to be despis'd.

_Val._ I do confess I am a Wretch below your Scorn: I own my Faults and
have no Refuge but your Mercy.

_Fav._ In the old Strain again----[_Aside._]

_Val._ If you abandon me, I'm lost for ever----for you, and only you,
are Mistress of my Fate.

_Ang._ Your daily Actions contradict your Words----and shews I have no
such Power in your Heart----Did you not promise, nay, swear you'd never
game again--

_Val._ I did, and for the perjur'd Crime merit your endless Hate, but
you, in pity, may forgive me----Oh, _Angelica_, see at your Feet an
humble Penitent kneel, who, if not by your Goodness rais'd----will grow
for ever to his native Soil.

_Ang._ You wou'd be pardon'd only to offend again.

_Val._ Never, never----Here on this beauteous Hand I swear, whose Touch
runs thrilling thro' my Heart----and by those lovely Eyes that dart
their Fire into my Soul, never to disoblige you more.

_Fav._ That Oath hath done the Business, I see by her Looks. [_Aside._]

_Ang._ Rise, _Valere_----I differ from my Sex in this, I wou'd not
change where once I've given my Heart, if possible----therefore resolve
to make this last Trial--banish your Play for Love, and rest secur'd of
mine.

_Val._ Oh, Transport! let me kiss those soft forgiving Lips, the Memory
of whose Sweetness shall arm me against Temptation.

_Fav._ So----now my old Man may go hang himself. [_Aside._]

_Val._ Could you but know the anxious Pains I felt, the jealous racking
Cares that prey'd upon my Soul----when I heard my Uncle was allow'd to
tell his Suit----you'd then have found how dear _Valere_ had priz'd you.

_Ang._ What I did was to revenge your Falshood----though Love's my
Witness, _Dorante's_ my Aversion--and let this Present shew who 'tis
that reigns triumphant in my Heart.

_Val._ Your Picture! Oh, give it me, that in the Absence of the dear
Original----I may feast my Eyes on that.

_Ang._ But mark, _Valere_, the Injunction I shall lay; whilst you keep
safe this Picture, my Heart is yours----but if thro' Avarice,
Carelessness, or Falshood, you ever part with it, you lose me from that
Moment. [_Gives him the Picture._

_Val._ I agree; and when I do, [_Kissing it._] except to yourself, may
all the Curses ranked with your Disdain, pursue me----This, when I look
on't, will correct my Folly, and strike a sacred Awe upon my Actions--

_Fav._ 'Tis worth two hundred Pounds, a good Moveable when Cash runs
low. [_Aside._]

_Ang._ Well, I am convinc'd, let a Woman make what Resolutions she will,
when alone----the Sight of her Lover will break 'em.

_Fav._ Madam, Mr. _Dorante_ is coming up.

_Ang._ I'll not be seen, Adieu. [_Exit._

_Val._ My charming Love, adieu----Take Care to welcome your Benefactor,
Mrs. _Favourite_; he's a Lover ripe with Discretion, Ha, ha, ha.

     _Enter_ Dorante.

Your Servant, Uncle, Ha, ha, ha----[_Holds up the Picture to his Nose._]
[_Exit._

_Dor._ This young Rake's Presence bodes me no Good, I fear. Mrs.
_Favourite_, your Servant----Is your Lady to be spoke with?

_Fav._ I doubt not, Sir.----I don't know what she is----I'm sure I'm
almost wild; our Business is all spoil'd----_Valere_ is reconcil'd
again.

_Dor._ Ah, that insinuating young Dog.

_Fav._ She has just now given him her Picture set round with Diamonds.

_Dor._ I thought, indeed, something sparkled in my Eyes----But what's to
be done?

_Fav._ I know not----He has promis'd her to play no more; if he keeps
his Word we have no Hopes; but if he breaks it, as I doubt not but he
will, Pride and Revenge may work her to our Ends----You may be certain,
Sir, I'll let slip no Opportunity to serve you.

_Dor._ I do believe it----and to encourage you to believe me
grateful----accept of this Ring.

_Fav._ Oh, dear Sir, you are too generous----I don't merit it----Pray
excuse me----

_Dor._ Nay, I will not be deny'd.

_Fav._ Well, Sir, since you will have it so----I'll not fail to move
your Suit----I'll do my best Endeavours, I'll assure you: Write, Sir,
write, and I'll deliver the Letter----then let me alone to back it.

_Dor._ You must urge the Largeness of my Fortune----the Steadiness of my
Temper; and withal tell her I am not above Two and Forty----I was grey
at Thirty.

_Fav._ I warrant you, Sir----Be sure you exclaim against your Nephew's
Gaming.

_Dor._ Ay, ay, I'll go write it this Moment----and send it presently.

_Fav._ I'll be in the Way to receive it. [_Exeunt severally._


SCENE _changes to Sir_ Thomas Valere's_ House_.

_Enter Sir_ Thomas _and_ Hector, _with Papers_.

_Hect._ Sir, I have brought you a compleat Account of the Debts of my
Master--I think I have not forgot one Farthing; for, if I mistake not,
you desired to know 'em all, Sir----

Sir _Tho._ Ay, ay, come read 'em over.

_Hect._ That I will, Sir, in two Words----A true List of the Debts of
Mr. _James Valere_, which was by him contracted within the City of
_London_, and Liberty of _Westminster_, which his Father, Sir _Thomas
Valere_, has promised to discharge.

Sir _Tho._ If I discharge them or not, is not your Business----Go on----

_Hect._ 'Tis my Design, Sir. In the first Place then--_Item_, Due to
_Richard Scrape_, Fifty-five Pounds, Nine Shillings and Ten-pence
Half-penny----for Five Years Wages----and Money disbursed for
Necessaries.

Sir _Tho._ _Richard Scrape_, who's he?

_Hect._ Your most humble Servant, Sir. [_Bows._]

Sir _Tho._ You, why is not your name _Hector_?

_Hect._ Ay, Sir, that is my Name _de Novo_----My Master thought
_Richard_ sounded too clumsy for a Gentleman's Valet, and a
Gamester----So, Sir, he gave me the Name of _Hector_ from the Knave of
_Diamonds_.

Sir _Tho._ A very pretty Name----I admire he don't call his Mistress
_Pallas_ from the Queen of _Spades_----But how came you so rich, Sirrah,
to be able to lend your Master Money?

_Hect._ Why when the Dice has run well, my Master would now and then
tip me a Guinea, Sir.

Sir _Tho._ And so you supply'd him when he wanted, with his own Money:
Oh, Extravagance!

_Hect._ 'Tis what many an honest Gentleman is drove to sometimes, Sir.

Sir _Tho._ More Shame for 'em--Go on----

_Hect._ _Secondly_, Sir, here is due to _Jeremy Aaron_, Usurer by
Profession, and Jew by Religion.

Sir _Tho._ Never trouble yourself about that, I shall pay no Usurer's
Debts, I assure you.

_Hect._ Then, Sir, here's two hundred Guineas lost to my Lord
_Lovegame_, upon Honour.

Sir _Tho._ That's another Debt I shall not pay.

_Hect._ How, not pay it, Sir,--Why, Sir, among Gentlemen, that Debt
is looked upon the most just of any: You may cheat Widows, Orphans,
Tradesmen, without a Blush----but a Debt of Honour, Sir, must be paid--I
could name you some Noblemen that pay no Body----yet a Debt of Honour,
Sir, is as sure as their ready Money.

Sir _Tho._ He that makes no Conscience of wronging the Man----Whose
Goods have been delivered for his Use, can have no Pretence to
Honour----whatever Title he may Wear--But to the next.

_Hect._ Here is the Taylor's Bill----the Milliner's, Hosier's,
Shoemaker's, Tavern, and Eating-house, in all 300_l._

Sir _Tho._ A fine Sum, truly.

_Hect._ Ah, Sir, I have not named the Barber, Perriwig-maker and
Perfumer, which is a 100_l._ more----Besides, he is in Arrears to
Mademoiselle _Margaret de la Plant_, lately arrived from _France_, with
whom he covenanted for four Guineas a week.

Sir _Tho._ For four Guineas a Week, for what?

_Hect._ Oh, Sir, pardon me there, I never betray the Secrets of my
Master.

Sir _Tho._ Four Guineas a Week!

_Hect._ Ay, Sir, and very cheap, considering he made his Bargain in the
Winter----and truly I don't know but the Woman lost by it.

Sir _Tho._ You don't----Take that, Sirrah----You shan't lose by it,
however--Go, Rascal, pay your Whores and Debts of Honour out of that.

_Hect._ Ay, Sir, they'll never take this Money of me; if you please,
Sir, I'll send 'em to your Levee, and you may pay 'em yourself.

Sir _Tho._ Sirrah, I shall break your Head----Go get you to the Rake
your Master; play, hang, or starve together, I care not----Debts, with a
Pox; _Gaming_, _Drinking_, _Wenching_, rare Debts to bring into a Court
of _Chancery_----You, O Lud, O Lud, O Lud----Bring me such a Bill of
Debts, Rogue: Mercy on me, that there can be such Impudence in the
World----O, I have much ado to forbear thee----Me such a Bill of
Debts----[_Exit._

_Hect._ So, our Affairs go backwards, I find. Honest _Richard_,
Patience, I say; go seek thy Master out.

  _Fortune may change, and give a lucky Main;_
  _And what undid us, set us up again._




ACT III.

Hector, _solus_.


_Hect._ Where can my Master be now----I should suspect he were at
Play----but that I know he has no Money----Sure this old Dad of his will
open his Purse-Strings once more, if he's reconciled to _Angelica_: I
long to know what Success he meets with.----O here he comes----

     _Enter_ Valere _with his Hat under his Arm, full of Money, he
     counting it----_

I waited on your Father, according to Order, Sir, with a List of your
Debts----and the generous old Gentleman--I thank him, gave me more
than I expected--Hey-day, he minds me not----Ah, I doubt we are all
untwisted----No hopes of _Angelica_----

_Val._ Five hundred fifty-seven Guineas and a half.

_Hect._ Ha! What do I see! The Plate Fleet's arrived----By what Miracle
fell these Galleons into our Power--I hope, Sir, since Fortune has been
so kind--

_Val._ A Curse of ill Luck--[_Stamps._] Had I but held in the last Hand,
I should have had 300 Guineas more of my Lord Duke's--besides what I
betted. [_Walks about._

_Hect._ I am overjoy'd, Sir, at your good Fortune--But as I was saying,
Sir----

_Val._ But hold, my Lord _Lovegame_ owes me 200 upon Honour: 'Tis pretty
well----I have not made an ill Morning's Work on't.

_Hect._ There's no speaking to him----

_Val._ There's no Music like the Chink of Gold!--By _Jove_ this Sound
is sweeter in my Ear--than all the _Margaretta's_ in _Europe_----Ha!
_Hector_, where come you from Sirrah?

_Hect._ Came, Sir--Why I was here before you--But Fortune's golden Mist
conceal'd me from your Sight--Sir, I congratulate your good Success--but
how!

_Val._ Ay, 'tis Success, indeed, if thou knew'st all--Honest _Jack
Sharper_ lent me _Five_ Guineas, to pay him _Ten_ if Luck run on my
Side. I have discharg'd my Promise and brought off a _Thousand_ clear.

_Hect._ Huzza--Why you're a made Man!

_Val._ And we meet again at Five, where I design to win a Thousand more,
Boy.

_Hect._ Ay, but if you should lose all back, Sir.

_Val._ Impossible. This is a lucky Day--_Angelica_ and I are
reconcil'd----my Faults forgiven, and all my Wishes crown'd, _Hector_.
[_Shewing the Picture._

_Hect._ Bless my Eye-sight--A Picture set with Diamonds--Nay then,
_Hector_, chear up--for now the bad Times will mend. [_Sings._] Why
now a Fig for your Father's Kindness; you are able to pay your Debts
yourself, Sir----

_Val._ A Pox on thee for naming 'em----Thou hast given me the
Spleen--Pay my Debts, quotha--The bare Word is enough to turn all my
Luck.

_Hect._ Say you so, Sir! Is paying Debts unlucky then?

_Val._ Ay, certainly; the most unlucky Thing in the World.

_Hect._ Humph--I now find the Reason why Quality hate to pay their
Debts--A duce on't, I wish I had known as much this morning, I would
not have paid the Cobler for heel-piecing my Shoes----For aught I know
it may be a Guinea out of my Way; for my Master does not use to be so
slow----Sir, now you are in Stock, Sir, if you please to put Wages into
my Hands----it shall be very safe in Bank against you want it.

_Val._ The Devil's in the Fellow--Speak one Word more of paying Debts,
Sirrah----and I'll cut your Ears off----I shall have no occasion to
borrow--and my Father will pay your Debt among the rest--

_Hect._ He won't pay a Souse, Sir----He broke my Head at the very Sight
of the List----

_Val._ Ay that was in his Passion--There's a Plaister for that
Wound--[_Gives him a Guinea._

_Hect._ Sir, your most humble Servant----I find we middling People are
out of the Quality's Latitude----Paying Debts are only unlucky to
Gentlemen----Sir, pray, Sir, give me Leave to offer one Thing to your
serious Consideration.

_Val._ I bar Debts.----

_Hect._ Not a Word of that, Sir.

_Val._ Out with it then.

_Hect._ That you'd lay by 500_l._ of that Money against a Rainy Day.

_Val._ But suppose I should have more set me than I can answer.

_Hect._ 'Tis but sending for it at worst, Sir.

_Val._ So baulk my Hand in the mean Time--and lose the winning of a
Thousand----No, no; there's nothing like ready Money to nick Fortune.

_Hect._ Ah, Sir, but you know she has often jilted you; and would it
not be better to have a little Pocket-money secure--Put by 200 Sir.

_Val._ Well I'll consider on't----Ha! see who knocks.

_Hect._ A Dun, I warrant.

_Val._ I have not a Farthing of Money, remember that, Sirrah--[_Puts up
his Money hastily._

_Hect._ Lying is a thriving Vocation.

      _Enter_ Galloon, _a Taylor, and Mrs._ Topknot, _a Milliner_.

_Val._ Ha! Good-morrow to you----Good-morrow to you Mrs. _Topknot_: Mrs.
_Topknot_, you are a great Stranger; why don't you call and see me
sometimes?

Mrs. _Topk._ Indeed, Sir, I call very often--tho' I have not had the
good Fortune to see you--for you was still asleep, or gone abroad.

_Val._ I am sorry it fell out so. Well, have you brought your Bill?

Mrs. _Topk._ Yes, Sir. [_Gives him her Bill._] I hope you lik'd your
last Linen, Sir.

_Val._ Very well.

_Gal._ Sir, I beg the Favour of you--

_Hect._ I must not let two fasten upon him at once--Mr. _Galloon_, a
Word with you--You always make my Cloaths, too little for me.

_Gal._ I am sorry for that.

_Hect._ My Breeches are Seam-rent in three or four Places.

_Gal._ I'll take care----

_Hect._ You sew most abominably slight.

Mrs. _Topk._ We are about marrying our Daughter.

_Val._ I hope you have provided a good Match; for she is very handsome,
Faith.

Mrs. _Topk._ The Girl is not despiseable--The Man is very well to pass
in the World; but the small Fortune we design for her, must be paid down
upon the Nail--Therefore, Sir, I entreat you to help me to my Money, if
possible.

_Val._ If it was possible, I would, Mrs. _Topknot_; and am heartily
sorry that it is not in my Power.

Mrs. _Topk._ It is a Debt of a long standing, Mr. _Valere_; and I must
not be said nay.

_Val._ I know it is; but upon Honour, I can't pay you now.

Mrs. _Topk._ Let me have some, if you can't pay me all----Ten Guineas at
present would do me singular Service.

_Val._ May I sink if I have seen Five these Six Months.

_Hect._ That he has not, to my Knowledge.

_Gal._ Pray, Sir, consider me, if it be never so small; my Wife is ready
to lie in, and Coals are very dear, and Journeymen's Wages must be paid.

_Hect._ Why, the Devil's in the Fellow! Would you have a Man pay what he
has not?--What Business had you to get Children, without you had Cabbage
enough to maintain 'em?

_Val._ Hector--No Invention? [_Aside to_ Hector.

_Gal._ When will you be pleas'd that I shall call again, Sir.

_Val._ When you please.

_Gal._ I'll call To-morrow, Sir.

_Val._ With all my Heart.

_Gal._ Do you think, Sir, you can let me have some, if I come?

_Val._ Not that I know of.

_Hect._ No, nor I neither--Hark ye, when he has Money, I'll bring you
Word.

Mrs. _Topk._ Don't tell me; I won't go out of the House without Money.

_Val._ With all my Heart--_Hector_! No Stratagem to save me from these
Leaches? [_Aside to_ Hector.

_Hect._ Then you must e'en lie with my Master or me; for here are no
spare Beds--Let me advise you to make no Noise; you'll have your Money
sooner than you think for--Your Ear--[_Whispers._]

Mrs. _Topk._ To be married say you?

_Gal._ And to Madam _Angelica_, the great Fortune?

_Hect._ The same.

Mrs. _Topk._ I wish you Joy, Sir----Pray recommend me to your Lady, for
Gloves, Fans, and Ribbons.

_Gal._ I hope, Sir, I shall have the Honour to make your Wedding Suit.

_Val._ That you shall, I promise you.--The Rogue has hit on't. [_Aside._]

Mrs. _Topk._ But will this Match be speedy, Sir?

_Val._ I hope so.

_Gal._ To-morrow, Sir?

_Hect._ Or next Day--but we must intreat your Absence at present----for
my Master expects his Father with the Lady's Trustees, in order to
settle the Affair----and if you are seen it may spoil the Business.

Mrs. _Topk._ Well, well, well, I go, I go----[_Runs a little Way and
turns._] You'll put your Master in mind of me?

_Hect._ Ay, ay.

_Gal._ And me too pray.

_Hect._ I'll do your Business, I'll warrant you: Go, go, go,----begone,
begone, begone,--[_Pushes 'em out._]--There Sir, I have brought you off
once more: Here's two or three Days Respite however.

_Val._ Why then there's two or three Days of Peace--for these are the
most disagreeable Companions a Gentleman can meet with--I dine at the
_Rummer_, where you'll find me if you want me. I promis'd to visit
_Angelica_ again to Night, but fear I shall break my Word.

_Hect._ And will you prefer Play before that charming Lady?

_Val._ Not before her--but I have given my Parole to some Men of
Quality, and I can't in Honour disappoint 'em.

_Hect._ Ah, What a Juggler's Box is this Word Honour! It is a Kind
of Knight of the Post--That will swear on either Side for Interest I
find--But, Sir, had you not better make sure Work on't; marry the Lady
whilst she's in the Mind, lest Fortune wheel about and throw you back
again.

_Val._ Marry her, say'st thou--I am not resolved if I shall marry or
not.

_Hect._ High-day! Why I thought it had been what you desired above all
Things--But I find your Pocket and your Heart runs counter.

_Val._ No, Sirrah; I love the charming Maid as much as ever: Love her
from my Soul--But then I love Liberty.

_Hect._ And what should hinder you from enjoying it?

_Val._ Ah, _Hector_, if I marry her, I must forsake my dear Diversion,
[_Pulling out a Box and Dice._] which to me is the very Soul of
Living:----'tis the genteelest Way of passing one's Time, every
Day produces some thing new----Who is happier than a Gamester; who
more respected, I mean those that make any Figure in the World?
Who more caress'd by Lords and Dukes? Or whose Conversation more
agreeable----Whose Coach finer in the Ring----Or Finger in the Side
Box produces more Lustre--Who has more Attendance from the Drawers--or
better Wine from the Master,----or nicer serv'd by the Cook?----In
short, there is an Air of Magnificence in't,--a Gamester's Hand is the
Philosopher's Stone, that turns all it touches into Gold.

_Hect._ And Gold into Nothing.

_Val._ A Gentleman that plays is admitted every where----Women of the
strictest Virtue will converse with him,----for Gaming is as much in
Fashion here as 'tis in _France_, and our Ladies look upon't as the
Height of ill Breeding, not to have a Passion for Play: Oh! The charming
Company of half a Dozen Ladies, with each a Dish of Tea,----to behold
their languishing Ogles with their Eyes, their ravishing white Hands,
to hear their delicious Scandal which they vent between each Sip just
piping hot from Invention's Mint, wherein they spare none, from the
Statesman to the Cit--and damn Plays before they are acted, especially
if the Author be unknown--This ended, the Cards are call'd for.

_Hect._ And open War proclaim'd----and every Cock-boat proves a
Privateer.

_Val._ Our Engagements are not so terrible,----with us Revenge reaches
no further than the Pocket.

_Hect._ No more don't a Highwayman----and yet the World thinks both
lives equally immoral.

_Val._ None of your Similes, Sirrah, do you hear?----Where is the
Immorality of Gaming----Now I think there can be nothing more
moral----It unites Men of all Ranks, the Lord and the Peasant----the
haughty Dutchess, and the City Dame----the Marquis and the Footman, all
without Distinction play together.

  _And sure that Life can ne'er offensive prove_
  _That teacheth Men such peaceful Ways of Love._

_Hect._ The Marquis of _Hazard_, Sir.--

_Val._ The Marquis of _Hazard_, what wants he!

     _Enter the Marquis of_ Hazard.

_Marq._ Do you hear; do you wait with my Chair at the Corner of the
Street, for I would be _incognito_.

_Hect._ What does he pretend to?

_Marq._ I presume, Sir, your name is _Valere_.

_Val._ I don't remember I ever had any other, Sir.

_Marq._ Sir I should take it as an extraordinary Favour, if you'll be
pleas'd to command the Absence of your _Valet de Chambre_.

_Val._ Be gone. [_Exit_ Hector.

_Marq._ Now, Sir, do you know who I am?

_Val._ I think, Sir, I never had the Honour of your Acquaintance.

_Marq._ _Allons Courage_, push him home, he seems daunted already;
[_Aside._] Sir, I have made the Tour of _Europe_, and have had the
Respect paid to me in all Courts that became my Quality;----In _Spain_ I
kept Company with none but Arch-Dukes, in _France_ with Princes of the
Blood,----and since I have been here, I have had the Honour to sup or
dine with most of the great People at Court.

_Val._ Why so hot, Sir?

_Marq._ And, Sir, my Person is not more known than my Valour----I have
fought a Hundred Duels, and never fail'd to kill or wound,----without
receiving the least Hurt myself.

_Val._ You had very good Luck, truly Sir,----What does the Blockhead aim
at? [_Aside._]

_Marq._ Sir, Fortune owes my Life Protection, for Sake of the noble Race
from which I sprung----my Father's Grandfather's great Grandfather was
Viceroy of _Naples_.

_Val._ Oh! One may see that in your Air, Sir.

_Marq._ Now, Sir, there is a certain Lady that has a Passion for my
Person, not that I am in Love with her: Only Gratitude,----and I am
inform'd by her Woman, that you make your Addresses there; now, Sir, I
suffer no Man beneath my Quality, to mix his Pretentions with mine.

_Val._ The Lady's Name, Sir?

_Marq._ The Lady _Wealthy_.

_Val._ You are misinform'd upon my Word, Sir; that Lady is at your
Service for me.

_Marq._ That Declaration comes not from your Heart----your Encomiums on
_Angelica_ last Night, serv'd only to conceal your Love from me.

_Val._ So far from that, I did not know you till you had left the Room.

_Marq._ Sir, I say you must not pretend to vie with Quality.

_Val._ I know the Distance Fortune has put between us, Sir.

_Marq._ Then pray observe it, Sir;----don't think every Fellow we
condescend to play with, fit Companions for us Men of Quality.

_Val._ [_Cocking his Hat._] Fellow, Sir----

     [_Laying his Hand on his Sword._

_Marq._ Yes, Fellow, Sir.----He has a Heart, I find, I'll moderate my
Passion. [_Aside._]

_Val._ You will have it then, I see. [_Draws._]

_Marq._ No, upon my Word, Sir, I was in Jest all the while.

_Val._ But I am in earnest, Sir,--and therefore draw----What, does the
Courage of your royal Ancestors, Vice-Roys of _Naples_, fail you?

_Marq._ Sir, I made a Vow never to kill another Man,----and therefore
pray put up, you have given me as much Satisfaction as I desired,----I
thirst for no Revenge.

_Val._ Sir, I am not to be trifled with, the Wine is drawn, and you
shall drink. [_Slaps him._

     _Enter_ Hector.

_Hect._ Hey! what's the Matter? [_Lays hold of the Marquis, who draws._

_Marq._ Ha! Company! Nay, then--Sir, this is too much to bear.

_Hect._ Hold, hold, Sir, hold, what do you do?

_Val._ Ay, ay, pr'ythee let him go, he's not so dangerous as thou
imagin'st, _Hector_,----Ha, ha, ha.

_Hect._ Why then let him go,----there, Sir, I have done.

_Marq._ I shall find a Time, Sir.

_Val._ To be kick'd----you have been used too civilly here.

_Hect._ A Time! For what, what the Devil do you come into our Nation, to
crow over us----I believe we shall find a Time in this Campaign to teach
you better Manners--your capering Country is fitter for Dancing-Masters
than Soldiers----Ha, ha, ha.

_Marq._ It suits not with my Quality to answer the Impertinence of a
Valet----Monsieur, adieu----_prenez garde une autre fois_. [_Exit._

_Val._ Coxcomb below Resentment----[_Looking on his Watch._] I have out
staid my Time.

  _Now Fortune be my Friend, I'll ask no more,_
  _One lucky Hour may double all my Store._

_Hect._ _Or make you Bankrupt as you was before._ [_Exit._


SCENE _Changes. A Table, with Pen, Ink and Paper on it._

_Enter Lady_ Wealthy, _sola_.

L. _Weal._ Which Way shall I contrive to disappoint my Sister's Wishes?
Now would I give Half my Estate to feed my Vanity. Oh, that I could
once bring _Valere_ within my Power, I'd use him as his ill Breeding
deserves; I'd teach him to be particular. He has promis'd _Angelica_
to play no more: I fancy that proceeds from his Want of Money, rather
than Inclination.--If I could be sure of that--I'll try however. If my
Project takes, I shall again break their Union----and if I can't serve
my Pride, I shall at least disturb their Peace; and either brings me
Pleasure. [_Sits down and writes._] Now how shall I convey this to his
Hands----It is not proper to send any of my own Servants----Who's there?

     _Enter Mrs._ Betty.

_Betty._ Did your Ladyship call, Madam?

L. _Weal._ Ay, get me a Porter.

_Betty._ A Porter! Madam: _Robin_, _John_, and _Nicholas_ are all
within.

L. _Weal._ And what then? Do as I bid you.

_Betty._ What can she want with a Porter!--I am resolv'd to watch.
[_Exit._

L. _Weal._ 'Tis better being confin'd to a Desart, where one never sees
the Face of Man----than not to be admir'd by all. [_Enter Porter._]
Here, carry this to Mr. Valere: Do you know him?

_Port._ Yes, an't please your Honour, very well.

L. _Weal._ Go, bring me an Answer then. [_Exit_ Porter.

     _Enter_ Lovewell.

Ha! _Lovewell_: I must avoid his Presence, lest he discover this
Intrigue----He'll be alarm'd at the Sight of a Porter in my
Lodgings----Besides, my Soul resents the ill Treatment I have given
him----He indeed merits better Usage----But I know not how, I cannot
resolve on Matrimony. [_Exit._

_Love._ Gone! Am I then shun'd like pestilential Air--yet doom'd to doat
upon her cold Indifference----Oh! Give me Patience, or I burst with
Rage----There must be more than her bare Temper in't--She loves--Ay,
there's the Cause----Oh! the racking Thought: By all the Powers, it
fires each vital Part and with a double Warmth strikes every active
Sense.

  _Hear me, ye Pow'rs----And if you ne'er design_
  _To make this dear, this scornful Beauty mine,_
  _Grant in the Lieu--I may my Rival meet,_
  _And throw him gasping at his Lady's Feet._       [Exit.

     _Enter_ Angelica _and_ Favourite, _with a Letter in her Hand_.

_Ang._ I shall not open it, indeed----If you venture to receive Letters
again, without my Leave, I shall discharge you from your Attendance,
Mrs. _Favourite_.

_Fav._ I do it for your Good, Madam.

_Ang._ For my Good! Impertinence--Am I to be govern'd by those I may
command?

_Fav._ In spite of all that I can do, I shall lose my Salary: For when
he finds the Cause go backwards, he'll see no more. [_Aside._]

     _Enter_ Dorante.

_Ang._ So, he's here too, by your Appointment, I suppose.

_Dor._ May I venture to approach the Rays of that Divinity, which dart
into my Soul an impetuous Flame?

_Ang._ O dear Sir, there's a Fire in the next Room, whose Flames will
warm you better than my Beauty, I believe.

_Fav._ Well, really, Madam, I think _Valere_ could not have express'd
himself finer.

_Ang._ Cease your odious Comparisons--Mr. _Dorante_ might I advise you,
make your Addresses to my Woman--I'm sure you'll meet a kind Reception;
ha, ha, ha.

_Dor._ Your Woman, Madam! I thought a Person of your Rank knew how to
treat a Gentleman better.

_Ang._ And I thought a Person of your Years might have understood
better, than to make Love to one of mine.

_Dor._ My Years, Madam! I'm not so old----Can I help my being in Love
with you?

_Ang._ No more can _Favourite_ being in Love with you.

_Fav._ You are always witty upon me, Madam--I'd have her to know I love
a young Fellow as well as herself. [_Aside._]

_Dor._ 'Tis for my extravagant Nephew that I am despis'd; that
complicated Piece of Vice whose head-strong Courses, and luxurious Life,
will ruin both your Peace and Fortune. I saw him a little while ago
enter one of those Schools of Poverty, a Gaming-House in St. _Martin's
Lane_.

_Ang._ 'Tis false.

_Fav._ Nay, Madam, I dare say 'tis true--Yonder goes his Man; I'll call
him and convince you. [_Exit, and Re-enters with_ Hector.

_Ang._ He cannot be so ungrateful, after my last Favours----_Hector_,
where's your Master?

_Hect._ Where'er his Person is--his Heart is with your Ladyship, Madam;
I dare answer for him.

_Ang._ That's foreign to my Question; where is he?

_Dor._ Yes, yes, he's a fit person to enquire of, truly.

_Hect._ So I am, Sir: For nobody knows my Master's Out-goings and his
In-comings better than myself.

_Ang._ Come, you shall tell me----_Dorante_ says, he saw him go into a
Gaming-House.

_Hect._ Discover'd--Nay then I must bring him off----Why, that is true,
Madam.

_Ang._ Perfidious!

_Hect._ But, Madam, it is to take his Leave, upon my Word----He's gone
to play, with a Design to play no more.

_Fav._ Now, Madam, who was in the right?

_Ang._ Is it possible a Man can be so base!

_Dor._ There are Men, Madam, that ne'er were guilty of such Crimes.

_Hect._ But, Madam, you won't hear me----my Master is making all the
Speed he can to put himself in a Condition to keep his Word with you: He
is shaking his Elbows, rattling the Box, and breaking his Knuckles for
Haste----He has sent me Post for his last auxiliary Guineas, which, when
he has thrown off, he'll lay himself at your Feet, with full Resolution
never to touch Box or Dice more.

_Ang._ A likely Matter, truly.

_Hect._ So it is, Madam----For he'll put it out of his Power to offend
again.

_Dor._ Till he has a new Recruit.

_Hect._ Madam, your Ladyship's most humble Servant, I must fly; for my
Master will think every Hour Seven till I am there. [_Exit._

_Dor._ Now, Madam, are you convinc'd----Will you yet accept a Heart
devoted only to your Charms?

_Ang._ No more of your Fustian--'tis unseasonable; don't provoke me to
use you worse than good Manners will allow: I respect your Age, but hate
your----

_Dor._ Well, scornful Maid, take up with your Gamester, do: You'll be
the first that repents it. And so farewel. [_Exit._

_Ang._ O, my too constant Heart! canst thou still hold the Image of this
faithless Man----And yet methinks I'd fain reclaim him----I'll try the
last Extremity.

  _For when from Ill a Proselyte we gain,_
  _The goodness of the Act rewards the Pain:_
  _But if my honest Arts successless prove,_   }
  _To make the Vices of his Soul remove,_      }
  _I'll die--or rid me from this Tyrant Love._ }




ACT IV.

_Enter_ Valere, _with a Box and Dice in his Hand, as from Play to a
Porter----_Betty _listening_.


_Betty._ So; thus far I have followed this Porter: Here I'll observe who
he wants----I'm sure 'tis against the Interest of Mr. _Lovewell_.

_Val._ From a Lady, say'st thou? and must be deliver'd into my own
Hand----

_Betty._ As I imagin'd.

_Val._ Pr'ythee, Fellow, dost know what 'tis to interrupt a Gamester,
when his Fortune's at Stake----Seven or Eleven have more Charms
now than the brightest Lady in the Kingdom.--[_Opens the Letter._]
Reads----Humph--_Pursuant to what I told you before_ Angelica, _that a
Declaration of Love would not be disagreeable, I confirm my Words in a
golden Shower----'Tis what I believe most acceptable to a Man of your
Circumstances._ (Well guess'd, 'e Faith.) A Bill for One Hundred Pounds,
payable at Sight--Monsieur le Porter, your very humble Servant----Tell
the Lady, I am hers most obediently----It requires no other Answer, till
I fly myself to return my Thanks.

_Port._ Yes, Sir. [_Exit_ Porter.

_Val._ What must I do now? prove a Rogue, and betray my Friend
_Lovewell_--If I accept this Present, I must make my Returns in Love;
for when a Widow parts with Money, 'tis easy to read the valuable
Consideration she expects:----But then _Angelica_, the dear, the
faithful Maid----But then a Hundred Guineas, the dear tempting Sight!
Ha, _Lovewell_! thou com'st in good Time; for my Virtue's staggering.

     _Enter_ Lovewell.

_Lov._ I have been seeking you all the Town over.

_Val._ And what News? Thou hast a very love-sick Countenance: The Widow
has us'd thee scurvily, I know.

_Lov._ Beyond all bearing----_Valere_, thou ever wert my Friend;
pr'ythee instruct me----Help to find the cursed Rascal out----'Tis not
the Fool Marquis, I'm convinc'd; but some lurking Villain, some Wretch
unworthy of her Charms----else her Vanity would ne'er conceal him.

_Val._ Hold, hold, Friend: you run on a little too fast----What would
your Mightiness do now, supposing you discover'd this detested Rival?

_Lov._ I'd force him to renounce her; or lose my Life, and leave her
free.

_Val._ Why then I have such a Respect for this Gentleman, that I must
preserve him from your Lion-like Fury.

_Lov._ Ha! Do'st thou know him then--Oh! I charge thee by our past Years
of Friendship, and by my Peace of Mind, which this cruel Woman takes
eternally away, tell me but who he is, describe him to me: Is he a
Gentleman?

_Val._ Yes, Faith.

_Lov._ And handsome?

_Val._ The Ladies think so.

_Lov._ Tell but his Name, that my Revenge may reach him. Hast thou
a Friend more dear than I--No, no; thy Companions are no Friends;
Gamesters and Profligates----whom in thy reflecting Hours I know thou
hatest--She is not fit for one of these.

_Val._ The Spark is a little given to Gaming, I confess--yet holds his
Nose as high as your Widow, I can tell you that.

_Lov._ Pr'ythee trifle no longer with me--nor do not jest with Pains
like mine.

_Val._ Do you know her Hand?

_Lov._ Death! Does she write to him?

_Val._ These Credentials will confirm she does. [_Gives him her Letter
with the Bill._

_Lov._ Confusion to thee--And a Bill for Money----Away, it cannot
be----By Hell, the Company thou keep'st has taught thee to be a Villain:
Thou hast abus'd her Honour, which I will justify. Draw.

_Val._ Here's a Rogue now--When I have withstood a Temptation would
have shook a Hermit--he'd cut my Throat for not taking his Mistress
from him--Well, these romantic Lovers are whimsical Things--Harkye,
_Charles_, I believe you know I am no Coward, and if your fighting Fit
remains on you till To-morrow Morning--I'll meet you when and where you
please; but I'm engag'd now--as you may see. Farewel----

     [_Exit, shewing him the Box,_ &c.

_Lov._ What Man but would for ever scorn, despise this false
Ingrate--But I'm a Slave to Love, and bound with such a Chain, no
Injuries can break--Something must be done; but what I know not.
[_Exit._

     _Mrs._ Betty _comes forwards_.

_Betty._ So, my Lady has brought herself into a fine Præmunire. Well,
I'm glad I heard this; and hope to make it turn to Mr. _Lovewell's_
Advantage--who is a generous Man, and deserves a Countess. [_Exit._


SCENE _changes to Lady_ Wealthy's _Lodgings_.

_Lady_ Wealthy, _sola_.

L. _Weal._ So, thus far I'm successful: The Porter says he was
transported with the Letter, and will instantly be here----Who's there?
[_Enter Footman._] Bid my Woman come hither.

_Footm._ She's not within, Madam.

L. _Weal._ How, not within!

_Footm._ Here she comes.

     _Enter_ Betty.

L. _Weal._ Hey! where have you been to put yourself in this Heat?

_Betty._ Speaking to a Relation, Madam.

L. _Weal._ A Relation; sure 'twas a warm Conference has left such Signs
on't in your Cheeks--Set my Toilet----I'll throw these mournful Blacks
away--adorn'd in chearful White, receive and charm my Hero.

_Betty._ Mr. _Lovewell_, Madam.

L. _Weal._ No, Fool; When did you ever see me dress at an old Lover?
He's mine; securely mine: But _Valere_, the Gay, the Rover, the
unconquer'd Rambler; he, he alone deserves my Care.

_Betty._ Madame, might I presume to speak----

L. _Weal._ Your Nonsense freely; I am in a good Humour, and can bear it
all.

_Betty._ Then _Valere_ is the most ungrateful--and Mr. _Lovewell_ the
most accomplished of any Man breathing.

L. _Weal._ Ha, ha, ha: And is this your Speech----Lovewell is beholden
to you truly; and Mr. _Valere_ shall know his Friend.

_Betty._ I hate him, Madam: and you have Reason.

L. _Weal._ Peace. I find I gave you too much Liberty.

     _Enter a_ Footman.

_Footm._ Madam, a Letter for your Ladyship.

L. _Weal._ Humph! from _Lovewell_: I know the Hand; some Compliment,
some dismal Madrigal, or tedious Ditty, in worse Prose, I am sure.
[_Opens it._] Ha, my own Bill! What means this--

     _Madam--You have bestow'd your Favours unworthily:
     Notwithstanding this Proof, I would have fought, defended
     you beyond Demonstration; but your new Choice declin'd
     the Sword----and that Love I so long languish'd for._

          Your neglected, injur'd, but still faithful
                                                  _Lovewell_.

Base Traytor! Is this a Man of Honour? this the Return to my
Advances--It is impossible--He has waylaid the Porter, brib'd him, and
deceiv'd me.

_Betty._ Indeed he has not, Madam.

L. _Weal._ Why, know you ought of this?

_Betty._ Yes, I can tell you all--if you will promise to interpret for
the Good of him who loves you truly.

L. _Weal._ Come in, and let me hear the Story--If _Valere_ has triumph'd
o'er my Weakness, and expos'd my unrequested Bounty----

  _Such a Repulse may fix this wand'ring Heart:_
  _And constant Love may meet its due Desert._      [Going.]

     _Enter the_ Marquis.

_Marq._ Turn back, bright Fair, and listen to an Action glorious as
_Condé_, _Luxembourg_, or _Hess_, or any He that ever grac'd the Field.

L. _Weal._ More Plagues?----I begin to grow weary of this Train of
Fools--Pray make your Story short, Sir.

_Marq._ I'll be as concise as the Heroic Deed--_Veni, Vidi, Vici_, as
_Cæsar_ said.

L. _Weal._ Over whom was this Conquest? your Footman and your Taylor?

_Marq._ No, Madam, over my Rival, _Valere_.

L. _Weal._ Ha! where met you that Report?

_Marq._ Every where----The World says you are in Love with him--'Tis all
the Discourse at the _Chocolate-House_.

L. _Weal._ Confusion! Am I become so wretched--I shall be sung in
Ballads shortly.

_Marq._ Having a profound Respect for your Ladyship--away flew I to
his Lodgings--where I had no sooner enter'd, but the Memory of your
Wrongs----set the stormy Marks of Anger on my Brow----Sir, said I--Sir,
said he, your most humble Servant--Sir, said I--here is a Rumour spread
abroad, prejudicial to the Reputation of a Lady whom I have honour'd
with my Esteem.

L. _Weal._ Honour'd! Oh, audacious!

_Marq._ And Report says you are the Author----Who I? said he, in the
meekest, humblest Tone that ever Lover begg'd in--frightned out of his
Wits----Her Name, I pray----which when I had told him, and bid him draw;
he poorly disclaim'd his Passion, and said, I might take you with all
his Heart, for he would not fight----At which I stept up to him, saying,
_Savez vous, Monsieur, du Lansquenet_----that is as much as to say, in
_English_, a Flip of the Nose, Madam--at which the good Gentleman pull'd
off his Hat, and made me the lowest Bow; and I, in Triumph, left----Now,
my Reward--my Reward, Madam.

L. _Weal._ Your Reward; never to see me more: For though I love Valour,
I know this Story false--and you made up of Cowardice. Do'e hear--if
ever my Doors are open [_Enter three Footmen._] to this bold Intruder
more, I'll have your Liveries pull'd over your Ears. [_Exit._

_Marq._ Gone! I durst have sworn she would have married me for the
News----Now here's a good Invention lost----Ah poor Monsieur _Markee_,
thoul't never thrive with these Women of Quality----I must to some rich
toothless City Dame--

  _On them my Courage and my Shame may pass:_
  _These Court-end Wits discover me an Ass._      [Exit.


SCENE _the Street._

Hector _solus_.

_Hect._ Well, I have not Patience any longer to see this Master of mine
play----I find which Way he's going----Odso, here's his Father----How
shall I send him away----For if he should see his Son come out of this
Gaming-House, we shall be undone again----[_Enter Sir_ Thomas Valere.]
Oh, Sir, I have been all over the Town to look you----

Sir _Tho._ For what, pray? Did my last Greeting please you so well, that
you've a Mind to more on't--Where's the Rake your Master?

_Hect._ Oh, Sir, happy, happy beyond Expression----He's with _Angelica_,
who has presented him with her Picture, set round with Gems of
inestimable Value.

Sir _Tho._ Ha! Say'st thou so, Boy? And is he likely to carry
_Angelica_?

_Hect._ Carry her, Sir; why the Business is done, and nothing wanting
but your Presence, with a Lawyer, to fit 'em for the Priest--Good Sir,
make haste----

Sir _Tho._ I'll be there in an Instant----And shall I be a Grandfather
adad--I could find in my Heart to give thee Six-pence for thy News--And
I will too----there _Hector_, drink your young Master's and Lady's
Health, Sirrah----Ah my dear Boy _Jemmy_, I forgive thee all----I'm so
transported, I think it an Age till I embrace thee. [_Exit._

_Hect._ 'Fore _George_ if this old Fellow finds me in a Lie, as he most
certainly will; for if _Angelica_ hears my Master is at play again,
she'll never have him that's sure too----I must let him know what I
have done, and get him in the Mind to go this Hour to _Angelica_----or
_Hector's_ Bones will pay for't.

  _To serve my Master, I a Lie may tell,_
  _But would not suffer, when I mean it well._      [Exit.


SCENE _discovers a Gaming-Table, with_ Valere, _Count_ Cogdie, _and
other Gentlemen at Hazard, with several Rakes and Sharpers, waiting
round the Table; a Box-Keeper, and Attendants_.

_Cogd._ Come----Seven----What do you set Gentlemen?

_Box-K._ Seven's the Main.

_1st Gent._ That.

_2d Gent._ Ten pieces.

_Val._ The Devil's in the Dice--There, Sir, a Hundred Guineas.
[_Angrily._]

     [Cogdie _rattling the Box, and considering where to throw._

_Box-K._ Knock where you are, Sir.

_Cogd._ I am at the fairest only; [_Throws out the Dice._] Come, and
that little Silver too.

_Box-K._ Four to Seven.

_1st Rake._ Mr. _Cogdie_, to three a Crown, shall I?

_2d Rake._ To three and eleven Guineas, if you please.

_1st Sharp._ Here's three Crowns to eleven, and if I lose, by all that's
good I know not where to eat.

_Cogd._ [_To 1st Rake._] You go to three a Crown [_To 2d Rake._] you to
three, and eleven Guineas. [_To Sharper._] You shall go yours to eleven
_Jack_.

_Box-K._ Pray, Sir, throw away, don't hold the Box all Night.

_Cogd._ There, [_Shakes the Box and throws three._] you're in once,
Gentlemen.

_Both Rakes._ We go again.

_Cogd._ With all my Heart.

     [_Shakes the Box again and throws Four._

_Box-K._ Four, Trey-Ace.

_Cogd._ There, Gentlemen, I have brought you off again. [_To the
Rakes._]

_Val._ You did not throw out your Dice fair, and I'll not yield it.

_Cogd._ Judgment, Gentlemen.

_1st Gent._ I think 'twas fair enough.

_2d Gent._ Ay, ay, a Man may throw his Dice how he pleases.

_Val._ Sir, I say this Hat's white. [_In a Passion._]

_Cogd._ I say so too.

_Val._ 'Tis false, 'tis black.

_Cogd._ As you say, I think it is black.

_Val._ No Sir, 'tis neither black nor white.

_Cogd._ Nay, very likely, Sir----He has lost his Money and now he grows
mutinous.

_Box-K._ Come, pray Gentlemen don't quarrel, and I'll ask it round.

_Cogd._ Ask what, you Blockhead? whether his Hat's black or white?

     [_Tosses a Pair of Dice in his Face._

_Box-K._ No, Master, whether you won the Money or not.

_2d Gent._ He won it fairly. Come _Valere_, I'll lend thee ten Pieces,
set boldly, set boldly, I warrant thee Luck, Boy.

_1st Gent._ Ay, ay, come whose is the Box?

_Cogd._ 'Tis mine----

_2d Gent._ Throw a Main then.

_Cogd._ Five.

_Box-K._ Five's the Main.

_Val._ There----take all.

_1st Gent._ That----

_2d Gent._ That----

_Cogd._ Where I was last. Now little Dice.

_Val._ Shake your Dice.

_Cogd._ There, Sir. [_Shakes the Dice and throws Duce Ace._] Oh, burn
'em.

_Box-K._ Duce Ace.

_Val._ Out----Give me the Box----Six.

_Box-K._ Six is the main.

_Cogd._ There, Sir, if you dare throw at it.

_1st Gent._ That----

_2d Gent._ That----

_Val._ At you all----

     [_Shakes the Box and throws Quatre Duce._

_Box-K._ Six. Quatre Duce, you've won it, Sir.

_Cogd._ Um! [_Seems disorder'd._]

_Val._ Come, Seven. [_Throws._]

_Box-K._ Seven's the Main.

_Cogd._ A hundred Guineas.

_Val._ Now little Dice----

_Cogd._ Not another Nick sure.

     [_Speaks as_ Valere _is going to throw the Dice._

_Val._ Nick by _Juno_----

_Box-K._ Cinque Duce.

_Cogd._ Oh! Blood! and death and Fire!

     [_Rises and walks about in a Passion._

_Val._ Nine. [_Throws._]

_Box-K._ Nine's the Main.

_Cogd._ There, Sir, I'll set you two hundred Guineas upon that Note.

_Val._ Note, Sir! Whose Note is it pray?

_Cogd._ Why 'tis very good, Sir, 'tis upon Sir _F--s Ch----d_.

_Val._ At it Egad. [_Throws._]

_Box-K._ Nine, Cinque and Quatre, the Box is due.

_Cogd._ Um [_Throws away the Dice, Breaks the Box._] Sir, I bar that
Throw.

_Val._ Sir, I did not see you,--and I won it fairly.

_Cogd._ The Devil, I that understand Play so well, to be bubbled of my
money--Sir, I say this Hat's white--Who dare say the contrary?

_Val._ Not I, indeed, Sir.

_Cogd._ I say 'tis black.

_Val._ Why, as you say, I think 'tis black.

_Cogd._ I say, Sir, 'tis neither black nor white.

_Val._ Then it shall be green, blue, red, or yellow, or what you please,
Sir. I have more Manners than to quarrel now I'm on the winning Side,
Ha, ha, ha.

_1st Gent._ Prithee don't quarrel with him, you'll get nothing by it.
_Valere_ will fight, you know.

_Cogd._ And so will I, Sir. You are all a Parcel of--If ever I play upon
the Square again----I'll give 'em Leave to make Dice of my Bones.

_Val._ Ha, ha, ha, hold, let me pay my Debts. There Sir--[_to 2d Gent._]

_Box-K._ You owe a Box, Sir, an't please you.

_Val._ There--[_Gives a Shilling._]

_Box-K._ You owe me a Teaster for a back-hand Tip, a little while ago,
Master.

_Val._ There you Dog. [_Gives him Six-pence._]

_Box-K._ Thank you Master--I'll thank any Gentleman that will put that
Shilling in the Box.

     _Enter_ Angelica _in Man's Cloaths_.

_Ang._ Ay, here he is.

_Val._ Come Seven.

_Box-K._ Seven's the Main.

_1st Gent._ That----

_2d Gent._ That----

_Val._ 'Tis mine.

_Box-K._ Eleven.

_2d Gent._ I never saw such Fortune.

_1st Gent._ Here's the last of a Hundred, if Luck turn not I'm broke.

_Ang._ Save you Gentlemen----may one fling off a Guinea or two with you?

     [_This while_ Cogdie _sits disordered and plays by himself at
     another Table_.

_Val._ Ay, a hundred if you please, a pert young Bubble this, flung Six.

_Box-K._ Six is the Main.

_Ang._ Fifty Pieces, Sir.

_Val._ Well said Stripling--Down with 'em--Six or a Dozen Dice--Duce
Ace--Ah split it----

     [_Throws down the Box._

_Box-K._ Duce Ace.

_Ang._ Out, Sir, give me Fifty Guineas, Sir.

_Val._ There 'tis, Sir.

     [Cogdie _rises and comes to_ Angelica.

_Cogd._ [_To_ Angelica.] Sir, will you do me the Favour to let me go two
Pieces with you; I am just stript.

_Ang._ With all my Heart, Sir. Come Gentlemen [_Throws._] set boldly.

_Box-K._ Five's the Main.

_Val._ A hundred Guineas.

_Ang._ Along [_Throws._] 'tis mine. [_Sweeps the Money._]

_Box-K._ Five, Trey, Duce.

_Ang._ [_To_ Cogdie.] There's your two Pieces, Sir.

_Cogd._ I go the four, Sir, if you please.

_Ang._ By and by, Sir, you shall.

_1st Gent._ I'm broke; but I'll be here again instantly. [_Exit._

_2d Gent._ I'll throw off this Stake--If Luck turn not I must home for
Recruits too.

_Ang._ Come on then, Sir, six. [_Throws._]

_Box-K._ Six is the Main.

_Val._ In my Conscience, I believe this young Dog will strip us all.
There, Sir.

_Ang._ And there, Sir. [_Sweeps the Money._]

_Box-K._ A Dozen.

_2d Gent._ I hope you'll stay till my Return? [_Exit._

_Ang._ If these Gentlemen can hold me play.

_Box-K._ I hope, Gentlemen, you won't stay late, for Fear of the
Press-masters, here was two Gangs last Night before twelve o'Clock.

     [_All the Sharpers sneak off, and leave_ Angelica _and_ Valere
     _together_.

_Ang._ Pshaw, hang the Press-masters, come, Sir, Five.

_Box-K._ Five's the Main.

_Val._ That upon Five.

_Ang._ Nick----

_Box-K._ Five, Quarter Ace, you owe me a Box, Sir.

_Val._ Confusion! Did ever Man see the like! That Watch at twenty
Guineas. [_Sets a Gold Watch._

_Ang._ Done, Sir, Nine. [_Throws._]

_Box-K._ Nine's the Main.

_Ang._ 'Tis mine. [_Throws._]

_Box-K._ Nine, Six, and Three, a Main above a Box.

_Val._ Furies and Hell--That Ring at ten Guineas.

_Ang._ Ha, ha, ha, with all my Heart, Sir, Six again. [_Throws._]

_Box-K._ Six is the Main.

_Ang._ Nick again, Ha, ha, ha.

_Box-K._ Six, Cinque Ace, two Mains above a Box.

_Val._ The Devil----I'll set you a hundred Guineas upon Honour, Sir.

_Ang._ I beg your Pardon, Sir, I never play upon Honour with
Strangers--If you have nothing else to set, your humble Servant.

_Val._ Death--shall he carry off my Money thus----Hold, Sir, Friends
will be here presently, I'll borrow some of them.

_Ang._ That's baulking my Hand----I can't stay, Sir, have you nothing
else?

_Val._ Yes, one Thing, but that is dearer to me than my Life.

     [_Takes out the Picture._

_Ang._ What can that be pray?

_Val._ 'Tis a Picture, the Original of which is nearest to my Soul----
[_Kisses it._]

_Ang._ Pish--a Trifle----Oh my Heart----Yet you shan't say I'm
ungenerous--whate'er you value it at, I'll answer it.

_Val._ Value it at--It is not to be valued.

_Ang._ Then you'll not set it; Sir, your Servant.

_Val._ Stay, Sir--Luck may turn--I'll set the Diamonds at two hundred
Guineas.

_Ang._ Oh Villain--Well, Sir, Seven----

_Box-K._ Seven's the Main.

     [Angelica _throws at the Picture_.

_Box-K._ Four or Seven.

_Val._ I bar the first Throw.

_Box-K._ Bar.

     [Angelica _throws two or three Times, and then wins it_.

_Ang._ 'Tis mine, Sir.

_Box-K._ Four, Trey, Ace; you owe me Three Boxes, Sir.

_Val._ Eternal Furies----lost----He shall restore it, or I'll cut his
Throat----Well, Sir, take the Diamonds, but I must have the Picture.

_Ang._ The Picture, Sir.

_Val._ Ay, the Picture, Sir.

_Ang._ I won it, Sir, and I shan't restore it, I assure you.

_Val._ But you shall restore it, Sir, e'er you and I part.

_Ang._ If I should draw a Duel upon my Hands here----I'm in a fine
Condition--[_Aside._] Nay, Sir, if you are angry, good by----

_Val._ Nay, nay, nay, [_Runs between her and the Door._] you shan't
carry off the Picture, by _Hercules_--Look'e Sir, either take my Bond,
or fight me for't. [_Draws._]

_Ang._ Sir--[_Trembling._] What shall I do? I must be obliged to
discover myself----[_Aside._]

     _Enter 1st and 2d Gentlemen._

_1st Gent._ Hold, _Valere_.

_2d Gent._ What's the Meaning of this?

     [_Lays hold of_ Valere.

_Ang._ Ha! A lucky Escape----[_Runs off._]

_Val._ Away; stand off; or I shall make my Passage through you, Traytor,
Dog--Oh I could tear my Flesh--Cut off these Hands that laid the Jewel
down, and stab my Heart for having once consented----

     [_Walks about raving._

_1st Gent._ What can be the Cause of this Passion?

_2d Gent._ Ho, he has lost his Money--Pr'ythee don't let that trouble
thee, I'll lend thee more--Come let's throw for the Box.

_Val._ Throw for the Devil--No, henceforth a Gamester is my Foe; nor
should the _Indies_ bribe me even to touch a Die; nor, after this
Moment, will I e'er set Foot in such a House again.

_1st Gent._ The Man is mad.

_2d Gent._ Pr'ythee let's go seek out better Company. [_Exeunt._

_Val._ Now I behold what a Monster this darling Sin has made me, and
loath myself for my long Race of Folly.

  _Now I repent, but oh it comes too late,_
  _And 'tis but Justice now that she should hate:_
  _He that flies Virtue still to follow Vice,_
  _'Tis fit, like me he lose his Paradise._


_The End of the_ FOURTH ACT.




ACT V.

SCENE, Valere's _Lodgings_.

Valere _solus_.


_Val._ What shall I do? There's no going near _Angelica_. The Action I
have done carries such a Face that she can ne'er forgive me.

     _Enter_ Hector.

_Hect._ Another 'scape, Sir, another 'scape. Your Father was just at the
Gaming-House Door upon the Hunt for you,--but Thanks to my Wit, I found
a Way to send him packing. He's gone to _Angelica's_ with a Lawyer.
Follow him, follow him, Sir,--If he gets there before you, the old
Gentleman will believe me no more--for I told him you staid for him
there----Ha; he minds me not. Sir, Sir; don't you hear me?

_Val._ No: I'll neither hear, nor see, nor eat, nor drink, nor ever rest
again.

_Hect._ Ah, the Devil! I shall be as slender as a Hazel-Switch in a
little Time then; for I suppose I must keep you Company in that thin
Diet----Ah! what I dreaded is come to pass--What then is all the Money
lost?

_Val._ Money! My Life, my Soul is lost.

_Hect._ Hey day! What's the matter now?

_Val._ The Picture.

_Hect._ The Picture, Sir----[_With a frightful Look._] Mercy on us;
shake your Pockets, shake your Pockets, Sir.

     [_Runs to_ Valere, _and shakes his Coat Pockets_.

_Val._ Hold off: I tell thee I've lost it at Play.

_Hect._ Why then you have play'd fair--Why what will you do now, Sir?

_Val._ Cut your Throat, Sirrah, and then my own.

     [_Clapping hold of_ Hector.

_Hect._ 'Twas none of my Fault, Sir. [_Half weeping._]

_Val._ O no! it was my own: For had I taken thy Counsel, this Curse had
been prevented.

_Hect._ Ay, Sir, but a Gamester's Life was the most genteel of
any----their Fob was a Fund, and their Hands Philosopher's Stones. Ay,
Sir.

_Val._ No more--go fetch me a Book--[_Sits down._]

_Hect._ What Book, Sir?

_Val._ The first that comes to your Hand, no Matter which.

     [_Exit_ Hector, _returns with a Book_.

_Hect._ Here's _Seneca_, Sir?

_Val._ Well, read--Was ever Man so unfortunate!

     [_Walking about in a thinking Posture._

_Hect._ Who, I read _Seneca_, Sir?

_Val._ Why not?

_Hect._ I seldom read any Thing, Sir, but Almanacks.

_Val._ Oh, read, read at a Venture----To lose upon Seven when the Chance
was Four! Confusion! [_Stamps._]

_Hect._ [_Reads._]--Be not taken with the glittering Dreams of Riches,
their Possession brings Trouble: Tranquility is a certain Equality of
Mind, which no Condition of Fortune can either exalt or depress. If his
Fortune be good, he tempers it; if bad, he masters it.

_Val._ The Devil was in me, that I could not leave off when I was a
Winner.

_Hect._ What is the End of Ambition and Avarice? We are but Stewards of
what we falsely call our own. All those Things which we pursue with so
much Hazard, for which we break Faith and Friendship, what are they
but the mere Depositor of Fortune, and not ours, but already inclining
towards a new Master.--Now will I be hang'd, if _Seneca_ himself was
not given to Gaming.----Sir, don't you think this looks like a moral
Reflection after a Loss.--In my Conscience, I'm half in the Mind that he
play'd away a Mistress's Picture too----

_Val._ Ha! Name it not, for if thou dost, I'll shake thee into
Atoms.--[_Shaking him._]

_Hect._ Ah, Sir, I've done, I've done.----But, Sir, this _Seneca_ was a
wonderous Man--Was he ever in _London_, Sir?

_Val._ No, he lived at _Rome_.----Not one in ten, Oh, wretched Luck.

_Hect._ That's a long way off--I thought indeed 'twas something made his
Morals so little minded----Come, Sir, Courage.

_Val._ Yes, I'll to the Camp, there, in the Service of my Country,
expiate my Follies.

_Hect._ To the Camp, Sir, what do you mean? Odsbud, Sir, go to
_Angelica_, this Minute, and marry her out of Hand, she does not know
you have lost the Picture, and when once she's secure, if she asks for
it, stop her Mouth with Kisses, Sir.

_Val._ Well, I will go, if but to take my Leave of her--For I much fear
she'll read Guilt in my Face--

  _This I resolve, whatever Fate's in Store,_
  _To touch the curst infectious Dice no more._

_Hect._ Ay, stick you but there, and I warrant we prosper.


SCENE, _The Lady_ Wealthy's _House_.

_Enter Lady_ Wealthy, _Mrs._ Betty _to her_.

_Betty._ Madam, Mr. _Lovewell_ to wait on your Ladyship.

L. _Weal._ How shall I see him! Shame and Confusion rises in my Face,
yet it is not in my Temper to own myself in the wrong, if he upbraids
me, this is his last Visit, bring him up----

     _Enter Mr._ Lovewell.

I suppose you come triumphant, but know, I give Account of my Actions to
no Man. Am free, and will so remain.

_Lov._ 'Tis my hard Fortune still to be mistaken, my Love's too blind to
think you do amiss--I have since been with _Valere_, sworn to him the
Letter was a Plot of mine, the Hand and Bill all counterfeit, to satisfy
my jealous Scruple, if there were Affairs between ye, he believed it,
and your Honour's free from all ill Tongues--And the Wretch doom'd to be
hated still,--Am come to take my everlasting Leave.

L. _Weal._ This Generosity shocks me--[_Aside._] Farewel, you have
clear'd me to your Rival, but to yourself can say she was ungrateful and
despised me: Love without Esteem is a forc'd Plant and wants its Root,
therefore my ill Conduct parts us, and thank your generous Carriage for
this Confession,--Great Spirits hardly yield themselves to blame.

_Lov._ Nor are you; I have not watch'd so many Years your Temper, each
Turn and Sally of your Mind, but I can judge it right, Honour is
center'd in your Soul, nor would you wrong it in an essential Part. All
your little Affectations are but the Effects your Glass produces, which
tells ye, Beauty like yours, may take ten thousand Liberties.

L. _Weal._ You have chose a cunning Way to move my Heart, when I was
arm'd with Accusations to extenuate my Faults. And if I could persuade
myself to trust a Man, I think it would be you.

_Lov._ Oh cherish that kind Opinion, and if ever you do repent it,
proclaim me to the World a Villain.

L. _Weal._ This I resolve in favour of your noble Usage, to banish from
my House that senseless Train of Fop Admirers, which I always laugh at,
and only kept to feed my Vanity.

_Lov._ On my Knees I thank you; but do not, do not dash my Transports by
Delay.----Your Year of Widowhood is just expir'd----reward my constant
Love, and make me happy. A Husband will fright the Fool Pretenders from
approaching, and these fond Arms secure you ever mine.

L. _Weal._ Bless me, is the Man mad? Here would be a strange Leap
indeed, from Mortal Odds into Matrimony. No, no; a little longer Time
must try you first.

_Lov._ If Time be now required, you may defer my Joys till Age has
strew'd my Head with hoary Hairs; for from my very Infancy I have ador'd
you--'Tis but a Month ago when my auspicious Stars inclin'd you to a Fit
of Mercy.----I flew, got a Licence, came with eager Hopes, and you
deny'd to see me. The same Authority will do now.----Nor will I leave
you, till your Hand is mine.

     _Enter_ Betty.

L. _Weal._ _Betty_, come to my Aid; here's an audacious Man will marry
me, in spite of my Teeth, this very Instant.

_Betty._ O Madam, the luckiest Moment in the World. I have been just
looking on _Erra Pater_, and there's the happiest Conjunction----And the
Chaplain sauntering about the Gardens ready for Employment.

_Lov._ Nay, look not back, your Eyes consent, and I'll have no Denial.

L. _Weal._ Well, this is the maddest Thing.

_Lov._ The happiest Thing----Thus----

  _The wand'ring Fair are by long Courtships kind,_
  _And constant Love does luckiest Minutes find._      [Exeunt.

     _Enter_ Angelica.

_Ang._ _Lovewell_ and my Sister; happy Pair!----I am only curst in a
loose Reprobate, whom no Chance, no Obligations can fix. I must resolve
to blot him from my Soul--but how hard 'tis to efface the first
Impression.--_Valere_, if I can part with thee, Mankind will be upon the
Square. Thy Uncle may succeed; Old or Young: For I shall never look with
loving Eyes again--Let me think--To lose my Picture--O unpardonable
Fault.

     _Enter_ Dorante _and Mrs._ Favourite _at a Distance_.

_Fav._ Now, Sir, is your Time; she is horridly out of Humour. I know
'tis with _Valere_, for nothing else makes her so.

_Dor._ Madam, I hope you will pardon my Intrusion, when 'tis to warn you
of approaching Danger. I can prove to you my Nephew has broke all his
Oaths, and played with the veriest Rakes the Town affords, in a public
Gaming-House.

_Ang._ Malice, Malice all.

_Dor._ As this is true or false, may I your Love enjoy.

_Ang._ Suppose it true, am I confin'd to make my Choice in your
Family--or indeed to choose at all----Perhaps I'll never marry----

_Dor._ O say not so; let not so much Beauty lose the End of its
Creation--You should bless the World with your Increase.

_Ang._ Methinks you are too much in the Wane to think of
Increase--However, I am yet resolv'd on nothing--and desire to be freed
from Importunity--'Tis well you

     _Enter_ Valere _and_ Hector.

are come; Your Uncle has been using all his Rhetoric to supplant you.

_Hect._ The Day's our own: She's in a pure Humour. [_Aside._]

_Val._ No clandestine Dealings, Uncle, I beseech you; Give me fair Play
and let the Lady choose----

_Ang._ With what Assurance he approaches. [_Aside._]

_Dor._ However her Choice may go, I know who deserves her most--I'm no
Gamester, Sir--her peaceful Hours of Rest shall ne'er be broke by me.

_Hect._ That I dare swear. [_Aside._]

_Val._ No Reflections, Sir, on former Follies. You in your Youth
doubtless had your Share--though now you are past 'em, and only rail at
what you can't enjoy----But I in my full Strength and Vigour give 'em
over, resolving never to indulge the tempting Vice again.

_Dor._ This you have often swore, and as often broke your Vows.

_Val._ I have; but 'tis not in the Power of Fate to make me do't again;
and what's past this Lady has forgiven.

_Ang._ To end your disputes, Mr. _Dorante_, I'll now own to you, that
my Heart has been long since given to _Valere_----and this Morning I
renew'd my Vows.

_Val._ O Transport! Now, Uncle, I hope you are satisfied.

_Dor._ No, Sir, I am not satisfied--Nor can I believe what she says
real, without condemning her Judgment.

_Ang._ A strange positive old Man this----_Valere_, pray clear his
Understanding--Shew him the Present I made you to Day; then let him
judge who I design my Heart for.

_Val._ Ha! What shall I say? [_Aside._]

_Hect._ O, I'm thunder-struck! [_Aside._]

_Val._ O spare his Age, Madam, I forgive him. He is my Uncle, and I
would not triumph----'Twould make him mad, should I produce the Picture.

_Ang._ No, no, fear not: 'tis rather Charity: For since he refuses to
believe my Words, 'tis but Reason he should have ocular Demonstration.

_Val._ He that doubts what's utter'd by that Tongue, is unworthy of your
farther Care----Therefore pardon me, Madam; a Thing so sacred as your
Image, never shall convince him.

_Hect._ Well hinted, I'faith. [_Aside._]

_Ang._ But when I desire it, methinks you should not refuse. Obedience
becomes a Lover.

_Hect._ Lost again. [_Aside._]

_Val._ You ever shall command me----

     [_Feeling first in one Pocket, then in t'other._

Ha! Where did I put it?

_Hect._ Humph. [_Lifting up his Eyes._

_Ang._ I'm amaz'd at his Impudence. [_Aside._]

_Val._ Bless me! sure I did not leave it in the Bed.--Which Way shall I
come off?--[_Aside._]--_Hector._

_Hect._ Sir----[_Looking very simply._

_Val._ Did you not see a Picture any where to Day?

_Hect._ A Picture, Sir----[_In a Kind of Fright._

_Val._ Ay, a Picture, What makes you look so, Sirrah? Ha! I suspect your
Rogueship has done something with it.

_Hect._ O dear Sir.----[_Trembling._]

_Val._ Where is it? Speak, Rascal, or I'll cut your Ears off. [_Draws._]

_Hect._ Oh Sir, forgive me, and I'll tell you the whole Truth.

     [_Falls on his Knees._

_Ang._ What means the Fellow? [_Aside._]

_Val._ What will you tell me, Sirrah?

_Hect._ Why, Sir, fearing that your Pocket might be pick'd, or your
Lodgings robb'd, and you might lose the Picture, and that I thought
would break your Heart, knowing how much you did esteem the Piece, I
took it, Sir, to a famous Painter of my Acquaintance to have it copied,
Sir, that's all.

_Ang._ A well invented Tale. [_Aside._]

_Val._ Fly, Sirrah, and fetch it. [_Slaps him on the Back._

_Hect._ Yes, Sir. [_Going._]

_Ang._ Oh you may spare your Pains, Sir--the Picture is already
here--[_Pulls it out._] now, Sir, do you blush.

_Val._ I am amaz'd to think how she came by it. [_Aside._]

_Hect._ Ruin'd past Redemption----Oh, oh, oh,----that such a compleat
Lye should turn to no Account. [_Aside._]

_Ang._ Ungrateful Man.

_Dor._ How, how's this?

_Ang._ Is this the Price you set upon my Favours----the Sight of this
would mind you of your Duty--if I remember, those were your Words--But I
presume you meant it should remind you of a last Stake--How have I been
deceiv'd.----Is it possible thou couldst be so base to expose my Picture
at a common Board, amongst a Crew of Revellers.

_Val._ Madam----

_Ang._ Be dumb, and make no impudent Excuses.

_Dor._ Dol, dol, dery dol, dery dol. [_Sings._]

_Val._ No, Madam, I shall not study to excuse myself, only this, I am
not Guilty of all your Charge, for there was none in Presence when I
lost it, but the Youth that won it. Who had not liv'd to have brought it
you, had not an unlucky Chance prevented me.

_Ang._ Then to conceal your Treachery, you would have committed
Murder,--excellent Moralist----But, Sir, the Privacy of the Act you
boast of--Does not in the least extenuate your Crime; I told you whilst
you kept that Picture, my Heart was yours, but you grew weary of the
Trifle, and restored it back, and now I have Liberty to give it to whom
I please.

_Dor._ I hope you are satisfied now, Nephew, ha, ha, ha.

_Val._ I am with every Thing this Lady is pleased to inflict, I know she
can use me no worse than I deserve.--I own the Foulness of my Guilt, and
will not hope for Pardon.

     _Enter Sir_ Thomas Valere, _with a Lawyer_.

_Hect._ Nay, then we are friendless, indeed,--Sir, Sir, shall I see what
_Seneca_ says upon this Head? [_Aside to_ Valere.

_Val._ Away, and plague me not--Ha, my Father.--

Sir _Tho._ I'm blest, beyond Expression blest.--Madam, I wish you Joy:
My Son, I have brought Mr. _Demurr_ the Lawyer----I'll reserve but
Five Hundred a Year for myself----the rest is Thine, Boy,----full Two
Thousand Pounds _per Annum_.

_Ang._ Sir _Thomas_, your Words carry a Meaning in 'em--which I am a
Stranger to.

Sir _Tho._ Meaning, Madam,--I hope my Son and you understand one
another's Meaning,----and I understand it too, Madam.----Come, Mr.
_Demurr_, where are the Writings of my Estate?----He shall make thee a
swinging Jointure, my Girl.----

_Ang._ You must pardon me, Sir _Thomas_,--my Mind's alter'd.----

Sir _Tho._ How! Did you not promise?

_Ang._ Suppose I did. When a Man breaks all his Oaths to me, I know no
Reason I should keep my Word with him.

_Hect._ Ah _Hector, Hector_, what will become of thee? [_Aside._]

Sir _Tho._ Why I understood these Quarrels were made up----and as a
Token of your being reconcil'd, you made him a Present of your
Picture.----

_Ang._ True,--And that's the Thing that parts us.

Sir _Tho._ What do you mean?

_Dor._ He gam'd it away, Brother; now do you understand her?

Sir _Tho._ Malice and Marriage, Brother, ill becomes your Years.--She
does not mean it so.

_Ang._ Indeed but I do.--

Sir _Tho._ Say you so, Madam,--then I'll do you Justice immediately.
[_Draws._] Sirrah, I'll save the Hangman a Labour,--I will you Bastard.

_Val._ Do, kill me, Sir; you shall find I will not vent one Groan,--for
my Soul has ta'en its Flight already,--My base Ingratitude has deeper
stabb'd my Heart, than now your Sword can do----

Sir _Tho._ Say you so, Sirrah,--then I hope you'll live to want
Nothing, for I'll take Care you shall have Nothing to support your
Extravagance.----Mr. _Demurr_, I desire you to make my Will this
Minute,--and put the ungracious Rogue down a Shilling--Sirrah, I charge
you never to come in Sight of me or my Habitation more; nor, do you
hear, dare to own me for your Father.--Go, Troop, Sirrah, I shall hear
of your going up _Holbourn-Hill_ in a little Time.--

_Hect._ So, there's all my Wages lost.--[_Aside._]

_Ang._ Ha! this Usage shocks me. [_Aside._]

_Val._ Sir, I promise you to obey you to a Tittle,----and this undutiful
Child shall ne'er offend you with his Presence more.--You but enjoin,
but I before had chose, for _England_ now would be the worst of Fates.

_Ang._ My Heart beats as if the Strings were breaking. [_Aside._]

_Val._ Madam, there is but one Request that I will make--then take
my Leave for ever, and if you grant it not, I shall be so much more
unhappy.----My being disinherited weighs not a Hair, compar'd with
what I've lost in losing you, whom my Soul prefers before all Wealth,
Friends, or Family.----Then, where should I ask Pardon but where I most
have injur'd?----Thus on my Knees, I beg you not to hate my Memory,
nor suffer the Follies which I have now cashiered for ever from my
Breast;--(but oh too late) to drive my Name as distant as my Body from
you, sometimes vouchsafe to think on lost _Valere_.

_Ang._ There is Nothing so indifferent but we think of it sometimes----

Sir _Tho._ Sirrah--begone I say. [_Pushes him._]

_Val._ I have done.--Now Madam, eternally adieu.

_Ang._ Shall I see him ruin'd--no--that would be barbarous beyond
Example----_Valere_, come back, should I forgive you all--Would my
Generosity oblige you to a sober Life.--Can you upon Honour (for you
shall swear no more) forsake that Vice that brought you to this low Ebb
of Fortune?

_Val._ Ha! Oh let me hold thee in my repenting Arms--and whisper to thy
Soul, that I am intirely chang'd--[_Embraces her._] Yes, my Love, I
swear the Course of Life that I've run hitherto--is grown more hateful
to me than Toads or Adders; and I would as soon keep those Animals in
my Bosom, whose Sting I know would kill me, as once indulge my former
Follies.

_Ang._ Then I am happy.--Know I was the Youth that won the Picture, and
you parted with it to myself.

_Hect._ I shall die with Joy, that's certain--[_Aside._]

_Val._ Then I did not break my Oath entirely, you were excepted, Madam.

Sir _Tho._ How lucky a Turn is this! Madam, your Example is too good
not to be followed.--_Valere_, I forgive thee, and confirm my first
Design:--Bless you both----Now Brother, I hope you'll believe you can't
get my Boy's Mistress from him. Ha, ha, ha.

_Dor._ Nor he shan't get a Penny of my Estate, Brother, remember
that.----

Sir _Tho._ He wants it not.----Ha! Who have we here----my Lady _Wealthy_
and her old Lover.

     _Enter_ Lovewell _and Lady_ Wealthy.

_Love._ Wish me Joy, Friends, wish me Joy.

Sir _Tho._ With all my Heart, for in my Conscience thou deserv'st
her.----

_Ang._ I wish you Joy, Sister; here let all Quarrels cease. [_Salutes
her._

L. _Weal._ I overheard your Reconciliation,----and I wish you the same.

_Love._ Oh my Friend! Sure never Man was blest like me. [_To_ Valere.

_Val._ Yes, I can boast a Happiness beyond thee,--I that merited her
endless Scorn, am, by her sweet forgiving Temper, rais'd to lasting
Joy.----

     _Enter_ Marquis _of_ Hazard.

_Marq._ I understand you are married, Madam; and come to wish you
Joy.----I do it with a _bon cœur, le Diable m'en porte_----

L. _Weal._ O Monsieur _Marque_, I am infinitely oblig'd to you e'er
since your Knight-Errantry with _Valere_ in Defence of my Honour.

_Marq._ A Duce of that unlucky Story.----No Words on't now, Madam, I
beseech you.

_Val._ How's that?

_Marq._ By the Honour of _France_ I shall be discover'd.

     _Enter_ Betty.

_Betty._ Madam, Mrs. _Security_ has brought a Pair of very fine Diamond
Ear-rings to shew you, they were lost in Pawn, she says,----and
therefore she can afford them an extraordinary good Pennyworth.

L. _Weal._ Bring her in.----

     _Enter Mrs._ Security.

Well, Mrs. _Security_, are they very fine ones.

Mrs. _Sec._ As fine a Pair as ever your Ladyship saw in all your Life,
Madam.----[_Gives her the Ear-rings._] Bless me,--What do I see, my
Cousin _Robin Skip_? I'm glad to see thee with all my Heart. [_To the_
Marquis.

L. _Weal._ Do you know what you say, Mrs. _Security_?--That is a
_French_ Nobleman.

Mrs. _Sec._ A Nobleman,----What do you think I don't know my Brother's
Son?----

_Marq._ A Pox of such Kindred--Now all will out--

Mrs. _Sec._ Why how long hast thou been in _England, Robert_?----I heard
thou wert Footman to the Prince of _Conti_.----Thy old Master, Sir
_William_, asks mightily how thou dost.

_Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Val._ How's this, the Marquis of _Hazard_ a Footman? Ha, ha, ha.

_Hect._ Brother, give me thy Hand----Hold, now I think on't keep your
Distance, Friend,----for a _Valet de Chambre_ is above a Footman.----
[_Struts._]

L. _Weal._ My Footman, Sir, will shew you into the Buttery; a Horn of
small Beer may quench your Thirst of Honour. Ha, ha.

_Val._ This Morning he boasted of his Royal Blood at my Lodgings,--but
his Cowardise confirm'd me what he is.--

L. _Weal._ He told me he was at your Lodgings, and presented you with a
Tweague by the Nose----

_Val._ How, Scoundrel, beneath my Sword, and therefore take this.
[_Kicks him._]

_Marq._ Very fine, very fine Breeding, Gentlemen, truly.--Well this is
my Maxim still----

  _Who once by Policy a Title gains,_
  _Merits above the Fool that's born to Means._   [_Exit._

Mrs. _Sec._ 'Tis dirtily done of you, Mr. _Valere_, so it is, to kick a
Man for nothing; His Father, though I say it, was as honest a Man as
ever broke Bread, and I could find in my Heart to----

L. _Weal._ No more of your Noise,----Wait without there.----[_Exit
Mrs._ Security.

Sir _Tho._ Come, come, enough of this Nonsense,----Let's have a Dance.

      _A Country Dance._

  _Val._ Now Virtue's pleasing Prospect's in my View,
  With double Care I'll all her Paths pursue;
  And proud to think I owe this Change to you      [_To_ Ang.
  Virtue that gives more solid Peace of Mind,
  Than Men in all their vicious Pleasures find;
  Then each with me the Libertine reclaim,
  And shun what sinks his Fortune, and his Fame.




THE EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. SANTLOW.


  _As one condemn'd, and ready to become_
  _For his Offences past, a Pendulum,_
  _Does e'er he dies, bespeak the learned Throng._
  _Then, like the Swan, expires in a Song._
  _So I, though doubtful long which Knot to choose,_
  (_Whether the Hangman's or the Marriage Noose_)
  _Condemn'd good People, as you see, for Life,_
  _To play that tedious, juggling Game, a Wife,_
  _Have but one Word of good Advice to say,_
  _Before the doleful Cart draws quite away._

    _You roaring Boys, who know the Midnight Cares_
  _Of rattling Tatts, ye Sons of Hopes and Fears:_
  _Who labour hard to bring your Ruin on,_
  _And diligently toil to be undone;_
  _You're Fortune's sporting Footballs at the best,_
  _Few are his Joys, and small the Gamester's Rest:_
  _Suppose then Fortune only rules the Dice,_
  _And on the Square you play; yet, who that's wise,_
  _Would to the Credit of a faithless Main,_
  _Trust his good Dad's hard-gotten hoarded Gain?_
  _But then such Vultures round a Table wait,_
  _And hov'ring watch the Bubble's sickly State;_
  _The young fond Gambler covetous of more,_
  _Like_ Æsop's _Dog, loses his certain Store._
  _Then the Spunge squeez'd by all, grows dry,--And now_
  _Compleatly wretched turns a Sharper too;_
  _These Fools, for Want of Bubbles too, play fair,_
  _And lose to one another on the Square;_
  _So Whores the Wealth from numerous Culls they glean,_
  _Still spend on Bullies, and grow poor again._

    _This Itch for Play has likewise fatal been,_
  _And more than_ Cupid, _drawn the Ladies in,_
  _A Thousand Guineas for_ Basset _prevails,_
  _A Bait, when Cash runs low, that seldom fails;_
  _And when the Fair One can't the Debt defray_
  _In Sterling Coin does Sterling Beauty pay._

    _In vain we labour to divert your Care,_           }
  _Nor Song, nor Dance can bribe your Presence here,_  }
  _You fly this Place like an infectious Air._         }
  _To yonder happy Quarter of the Town,_
  _You croud; and your own fav'rite Stage disown;_
  _We're like old Mistresses, you love the Vice,_
  _And hate us only 'cause we once did please._
  _Nor can we find how else 'tis we deserve,_
  _Like_ Tantalus, _'midst Plenty thus to starve._


       *       *       *       *       *




TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE


Occasional missing punctuation has been added. Where speeches ended on a
comma, this has been replaced by a full stop. Hyphenation is
inconsistent throughout. Character name abbreviations have been
regularised. Contenporary spellings have generally been retained,
although one instance of "Wain" was changed to "Wane" to prevent
misunderstanding.The term "angerly" in stage directions is an archaic
form of "angrily".

One specific change was made:

In Act 2, "Vigin" was changed to "Virgin" in:

     witness the many Years of awful Servitude I paid your
     Virgin-beauty


[The end of _The Gamester_ by Susanna Centlivre]