CARDELIA, SMILINDA, LOVET
CARD. The Basset-Table spread, the Tallier come, | |
| Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room? | |
| Rise, pensive nymph! the Tallier waits for you. | |
| SMIL. Ah, madam! since my Sharper is untrue, | |
| I joyless make my once adored Alpeu. | 5 |
| I saw him stand behind Ombrelia’s chair, | |
| And whisper with that soft deluding air, | |
| And those feign’d sighs which cheat the list’ning Fair. | |
| CARD. Is this the cause of your romantic strains? | |
| A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains: | 10 |
| As you by love, so I by Fortune crost; | |
| One, one bad Deal, three Septlevas have lost. | |
| SMIL. Is that the grief which you compare with mine? | |
| With ease the smiles of fortune I resign: | |
| Would all my gold in one bad Deal were gone, | 15 |
| Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone. | |
| CARD. A lover lost is but a common care, | |
| And prudent nymphs against that change prepare: | |
| The Knave of Clubs thrice lost: Oh! who could guess | |
| This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress? | 20 |
| SMIL. See Betty Lovet! very àpropos; | |
| She all the cares of love and play does know. | |
| Dear Betty shall th’ important point decide; | |
| Betty! who oft the pain of each has tried; | |
| Impartial she shall say who suffers most, | 25 |
| By cards’ ill usage, or by lovers lost. | |
| LOV. Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay, | |
| Though time is precious, and I want some tea. | |
| CARD. Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought, | |
| With fifty guineas (a great pen’worth) bought. | 30 |
| See on the toothpick Mars and Cupid strive, | |
| And both the struggling figures seem alive. | |
| Upon the bottom shines the Queen’s bright face; | |
| A myrtle foliage round the thimble case. | |
| Jove, Jove himself does on the scissors shine: | 35 |
| The metal, and the workmanship, divine. | |
| SMIL. This snuff-box—once the pledge of Sharper’s love, | |
| When rival beauties for the present strove; | |
| At Corticelli’s he the raffle won; | |
| Then first his passion was in public shown: | 40 |
| Hazardia blush’d, and turn’d her head aside, | |
| A rival’s envy (all in vain) to hide. | |
| This snuffbox—on the hinge see brilliants shine— | |
| This snuffbox will I stake, the Prize is mine. | |
| CARD. Alas! far lesser losses than I bear | 45 |
| Have made a soldier sigh, a lover swear. | |
| And oh! what makes the disappointment hard, | |
| ’T was my own Lord that drew the fatal card. | |
| In complaisance I took the Queen he gave, | |
| Tho’ my own secret wish was for the Knave. | 50 |
| The Knave won Sonica, which I had chose, | |
| And the next pull my Septleva I lose. | |
| SMIL. But ah! what aggravates the killing smart, | |
| The cruel thought that stabs me to the heart, | |
| This curs’d Ombrelia, this undoing Fair, | 55 |
| By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear, | |
| She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears, | |
| She owes to me the very charms she wears. | |
| An awkward thing when first she came to town, | |
| Her shape unfashion’d, and her face unknown: | 60 |
| She was my friend; I taught her first to spread | |
| Upon her sallow cheeks enlivening red; | |
| I introduced her to the park and plays, | |
| And by my int’rest Cozens made her Stays. | |
| Ungrateful wretch! with mimic airs grown pert, | 65 |
| She dares to steal my favourite lover’s heart. | |
| CARD. Wretch that I was, how often have I swore, | |
| When Winnall tallied, I would punt no more! | |
| I know the bite, yet to my ruin run, | |
| And see the folly which I cannot shun. | 70 |
| SMIL. How many maids have Sharper’s vows deceiv’d? | |
| How many curs’d the moment they believ’d? | |
| Yet his known falsehoods could no warning prove: | |
| Ah! what is warning to a maid in love? | |
| CARD. But of what marble must that breast be form’d, | 75 |
| To gaze on Basset, and remain unwarm’d? | |
| When Kings, Queens, Knaves, are set in decent rank, | |
| Exposed in glorious heaps the tempting Bank, | |
| Guineas, half-guineas, all the shining train, | |
| The winner’s pleasure, and the loser’s pain. | 80 |
| In bright confusion open Rouleaux lie, | |
| They strike the soul, and glitter in the eye: | |
| Fired by the sight, all reason I disdain, | |
| My passions rise, and will not bear the rein. | |
| Look upon Basset, you who reason boast, | 85 |
| And see if reason must not there be lost. | |
| SMIL. What more than marble must that heart compose | |
| Can harken coldly to my Sharper’s vows? | |
| Then when he trembles! when his blushes rise! | |
| When awful love seems melting in his eyes! | 90 |
| With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves: | |
| ‘He loves’—I whisper to myself, ‘He loves!’ | |
| Such unfeign’d passion in his looks appears, | |
| I lose all mem’ry of my former fears; | |
| My panting heart confesses all his charms, | 95 |
| I yield at once, and sink into his arms. | |
| Think of that moment, you who Prudence boast; | |
| For such a moment Prudence well were lost. | |
| CARD. At the Groom-Porter’s batter’d bullies play, | |
| Some dukes at Mary-bone bowl time away; | 100 |
| But who the Bowl or rattling Dice compares | |
| To Basset’s heav’nly joys and pleasing cares? | |
| SMIL. Soft Simplicetta dotes upon a beau; | |
| Prudina likes a man, and laughs at show: | |
| Their several graces in my Sharper meet, | 105 |
| Strong as the footman, as the master sweet. | |
| LOV. Cease your contention, which has been too long; | |
| I grow impatient, and the tea’s too strong. | |
| Attend, and yield to what I now decide; | |
| The equipage shall grace Smilinda’s side; | 110 |
| The snuffbox to Cardelia I decree; | |
| Now leave complaining, and begin your tea. | |
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