COCKLE. What are you at, sir?
TRIPTOLE. (still going on) Ten, twelve, thirteen——
COCKLE. No, no!
TRIPTOLE. (still going on) Fourteen, fifteen—there!
COCKLE. Take up your cards again, do! You really seem to be in such a state of confusion——
TRIPTOLE. (trying to assume confidence) No, not at all! (wiping his face with another handful of gloves, and letting them fall on stage, then taking a large silver snuff box out of his pocket, and mechanically opening and shutting it)
COCKLE. (aside) That’s uncommonly like my snuff box! (aloud) Let’s begin again. (aside) It’s the very image of my snuff box! (begins playing) Ten. (throwing down his card—TRIPTOLEMUS throws down one) My dear sir, when you play a card, you ought to call the game.
TRIPTOLE. I beg your pardon. (taking up his card and throwing it down on table again) Cribbage!
COCKLE. Nonsense, that’s twenty! (playing another card) Twenty-five.
TRIPTOLE. (playing another card) Cribbage!