His adversary: and so, disquieted,
He sneaks away; but not discomfited—
For when ’tis twilight there he is again
With pleasant features, but distorted brain,
Inducing some way-faring man[168] to cards;
And whilst he shuffles, cuts, deals out, discards,
The knave has managed to get hold the ace
From out the pack; then with his wont grimace
Allows his trusty friend to win awhile
A few odd pence, and whilst he feigns a smile