Wild. No mortal man ever threw out so often. It could not be me, it must be the devil that did it: He took all the chances, and changed them after I had thrown them. But, I'll be even with him; for, I'll never throw one of his dice more.
Mask. Madam, 'tis certainly my master; and he is so zealous to make his peace, that he could not stay till I called him to you.——Sir.
Wild. Sirrah, I'll teach you more manners than to leave me another time: You rogue, you have lost me two hundred pistoles, you and the devil your accomplice; you, by leaving me to myself, and he, by tempting me to play it off.
Mask. Is the wind in that door? Here's like to be fine doings.
Wild. O mischief! am I fallen into her ambush? I must face it out with another quarrel.
[Aside.
Jac. Your man has been treating your accommodation; 'tis half made already.
Wild. Ay, on your part it may be.
Jac. He says you knew me.
Wild. Yes; I do know you so well, that my poor heart aches for't. I was going to bed without telling you my mind; but, upon consideration, I am come——