Shuff. No, damn it, it wouldn't be fair to jumble the jews into the same room with our gaming acquaintance.
Frank. Why so?
Shuff. Because, twenty to one, the first half of the creditors would begin dunning the other.
Frank. Nay, far once in your life be serious. Read this, which has wrung my heart, and repose it, as a secret, in your own.
[Giving the Letter.
Shuff. [Glancing over it.] A pretty, little, crowquill kind of a hand.—"Happiness,—innocence,—trifling assistance—gentleman befriended me—unhappy Mary."—Yes, I see—[Returning it.]—She wants money, but has got a new friend.—The style's neat, but the subject isn't original.
Frank. Will you serve me at this crisis?
Shuff. Certainly.
Frank. I wish you to see my poor Mary in the course of the day. Will you talk to her?
Shuff. O yes—I'll talk to her. Where is she to be seen?