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Lady R. Don't you? Not value three hundred pounds to please me?

Sir C. You know I don't.

Lady R. Ah! You fond fool! But I hate gamingIt almost metamorphoses a woman into a fury.-Do you know that I was frighted at myself several times tonight? I had a huge oath at the very tip of my tongue. Sir C. Had you?

Lady R. I caught myself at it-and so I bit my lips. And then I was crammed up in a corner of the room, with such a strange party, at a whist table, looking at black and red spots-Did you mind 'em?

Sir C.

You know I was busy elsewhere.

Lady R. There was that strange unaccountable woman, Mrs. Nightshade. She behaved so strangely to her husband!-a poor, inoffensive, goodnatured, good sort of a good for nothing kind of a man.-But she so teazed him-"How could you play that card? Ah, you've a head, and so has a pin.-You're a numskull, you know you are-Ma'am he's the poorest head in the world;—he does not know what he is about; you know you don'tAh, fie! I'm asham'd of you!"

Sir C. She has serv'd to divert you, I see.

Lady R. And then to crown all--there was my lady Clackit, who runs on with an eternal volubility of nothing, out of all season, time and place,- -In the very midst of the game, she begins-" Lard, Ma'am, I was apprehensive I should not be able to wait on your ladyshipmy poor little dog, Pompey-the sweetest thing in the world!—A spade led! There's the knave.~ I was fetching a walk, Me'em, the other morning in the Park-A fine frosty morning it was. I love frosty weath er of all things-let me look at the last trick-and so Me'em, little Pompey-and if your ladyship was to see the dear creature pinched with the frost, and mincing his steps along the Mall-with his pretty little innocent face -I vow I don't know what to play. And so Me'em, while I was talking to Captain Pimsey-your ladyship knows Captain Flimsey.-Nothing but rubbish in my hand! I can't help it. And so, Me'em, five odious frights of dogs beset my poor little Pompey-the dear

creature has the heart of a lion; but who can resist five at once?-And so Pompey barked for assistance—the hurt he received was upon his chest-the doctor would not advise him to venture out till the wound is healed, for fear of an inflammation. Pray what's trumps?"

Sir C. My dear, you would make an excellent actress. Lady R. Well, now, let's go to rest---but, Sir Charles, how shockingly you play'd that last rubber, when I stood looking over you!

Sir C. My love, I played the truth of the game. Lady R. No, indeed my dear you played it wrong. Sir C. Po! Nonsense! You don't understand it. Lady R. I beg your pardon, I'm allow'd to play better than you.

Sir C. All conceit, my dear! I was perfectly right. Lady R. No such thing, Sir Charles; the diamond was the play.

Sir C. Po! Po! Ridiculous! The club was the card, against the world.

Lady R. Oh! No, no, no--I say it was the diamond. Sir C. Madam, I say it was the club.

Lady R. What do you fly into such a passion for?

Sir C. Death and fury! Do you think I don't know what I'm about? I tell you once more, the club was the judgment of it.

Lady R. May be so-have it your own way.

Sir C. Vexation! You're the strangest woman that ever lived; there's no conversing with you.-Look 'ye here, my Lady Racket'tis the clearest case in the world-I'll make it plain in a moment.

Lady R. Well, Sir; ha, ha, ha !

Sir C. I had four cards left-a trump had led-—————— they were six- -no, no, no-they were sever, and we ninethen, you know the beauty of the play was

Lady R. Well, now, 'tis amazing to me, that you can't see it. Give me leave, Sir Charles-your left hand adversary had led his last trump-and he had before finessed the club, and roughed the diamond-now if you had put on your diamond

Sir C. But, Madam, we played for the odd trick.

Lady R. And sure the play for the odd trick-
Sir C. Death and fury! Can't you hear me?
Lady R. Go on, Sir.

Sir C. Hear me, I say. Will you hear me?
Lady R. Inever heard the like in my life.

Sir C. Why then you are enough to provoke the patience of a Stoic. Very well, madam! You know no more of the game than your father's leaden Hercules on the top of the house. You know no more of whist than he does of gardening,

Lady R. Ha, ha, ha!

Sir C. You're a vile woman, and I'll not sleep another night under one roof with you.

Lady R. As you please, Sir.

Sir C. Madam, it shall be as I please-I'll order my chariot this moment. [Going.] I know how the cards should be played as well as any man in England, that let me tell you-[Going.] And when your family were standing behind counters, measuring out tape, and bartering for Whitechapel needles, my ancestors, my ancestors, Madam, were squandering away whole estates at cards; whole estates my lady Racket-[She hums a tune] Why, then, by all that's dear to me, I'll never exchange another word with you, good, bad, or indifferent. Look ye, my lady Racket-thus it stood-the trump being led, it was then my business

Lady R. To play the diamond, to be sure.

Sir C. I have done with you forever; and so you may tell your father.

Lady R. What a passion the gentleman is in! Ha! ha! i'll promise him I'll not give up my judgment,

Re-enter Sir Charles.

Sir C. My lady Racket---look 'ye Ma'am, once more, out of pure good nature

Lady R. Sir, I am convinced of your good nature. Sir C. That and that only, prevails with me to tell you the club was the play.

Lady R. Well, be it so I have no objection.

Sir C. 'Tis the clearest point in the world--we were nine, and

Lady R. And for that very reason, you know the club was the best in the house.

Sir C. There's no such thing as talking to you.You're a base woman-I'll part with you forever, you may live here with your father, and admire his fantastical evergreens, till you grow as fantastical yourself-I'll set out for London this instant.- -[Stops at the door] The club was not the best in the house.

Lady R. How calm you are! Well, I'll go to bed. Will you come? You had better- -Poor Sir Charles. [Looks and laughs, then exit.] Sir C. That case is provoking—[Crosses to the opposite door where she went out.] I tell you the diamond was not the play; and here I take my final leave of you[Walks back as fast as he can] I am resolved upon it; and I know the club was not the best in the house.

VIII.—Brutus and Cassius.-SHAKESPEARE.

Cas. THAT you have wrong'd me doth appear in this; You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein my letter (praying on his side, Because I knew the man) was slighted of.

Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case. Cas. At such a time as this, is it not meet That every nice offence should bear its comment ? Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm, To sell and mart your offices for gold, To undeservers.

Cas. I an itching palm ?

You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.

Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.

Cas. Chastisement ?

Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remember. Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake?

What! shall one of us,

That struck the foremost man of all this world,

But for supporting robbers; Shall we now

Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ?
And sell the mighty space of our large honors,
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas. Brutus, bay not me:

I'll not endare it. You forget yourself
To hedge me in: I am a soldier,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Bru. Go to! You are not, Cassius.
Cas. I am.

Bru. I say you are not.

Cas. Urge me no more: I shall forget myself: Have mind upon your health: tempt me no farther: Bru. Away, slight man!

Cas. Is't possible !

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak.

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Cas. Must I endure all this!

Bru. All this! Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart

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Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humor!

You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

Cas. Is it come to this?

Bru, You say you are a better soldier; Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,

And it shall please me well. For my own part

I shall be glad to learn of noblemen.

Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus ; I said an elder soldier, not a better.

Did I say better?

Bru. If you did I care not.

Cas. When Cesar liv'd he durst not thus have mov'd me.

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