COCKLE. Pshaw! that makes thirty.
TRIPTOLE. (playing another) Cribbage!
COCKLE. Nonsense! (looking at his cards) Go.
TRIPTOLE. What, sir?
COCKLE. I can’t come in, and therefore I say, go.
TRIPTOLE. Very well, sir; I wish you a very good evening. (getting up from table)
COCKLE. (suddenly) Stop a bit, sir! (takes up the snuff box, takes a pinch, looks at it, puts it down, then suddenly to the CAPTAIN) Oblige me by taking my cards for a moment.
(gets up, the CAPTAIN takes his place, leans with his elbows on the table, shuffling the cards and looking intently at TRIPTOLEMUS, who again takes the red worsted comforter out of his pocket, and nervously wipes his face with it, then lets it fall on the stage among the gloves—during this COCKLETOP has run to the card table where BUNNY is playing, grasps him suddenly by the arm and drags him forward)
BUNNY. What’s the matter now?