MABEL. Ernest--dear Ernest! VANE (_sternly_). Mabel, how came you here? WOFF. In such very questionable company as a town rake and a profane stage-player? Mrs. Vane might have asked the same question yesterday. Why Mrs. Vane somehow fancied you had mislaid your heart in Covent Garden green-room, and that I had feloniously appropriated it: she came here in search of stolen goods--would you could rummage here, madam, and satisfy yourself if you still want proof, that I have no such thing as a heart about me--not even one of my own. TRIP. I deny that--a better heart than Mrs. Woffington's---- WOFF. What on earth do you know about it, man? VANE (_to Mabel_). But this letter? WOFF. Was written by me on a paper which by accident bore Mrs. Vane's signature. The fact is, I had a wager with Sir Charles here--his diamond ring against my left-hand glove--that I could bewitch a certain country gentleman's imagination, though his heart all the while belonged to its rightful owner, and I have won (_sighs_). VANE. What a dupe I have been--am I enough humiliated? POM. Ha! ha! ha! My poor fellow, you had better return to Huntingdonshire, and leave town and the players to us, who know how to deal with them. WOFF. And are quite safe against being taken in--eh! Sir Charles? (_points to ring on her finger_). POM. Oh, perfectly--we know each other's cards--retain that ring as a mark of my---- (_Woffington holds up her finger._) POM. Respect! WOFF. No, no--I accept your ring; but I shall always hate you. POM. I welcome the sentiment--I can endure anything but your indifference. VANE. And you, Mabel, will you forgive my infatuation? MABEL. I forgive all, Ernest--(_crosses to Woffington, aside to her_) what do we not owe you, sister? WOFF. Nothing that word does not pay for. (_Aside_) Alas! and so ends the game. You and I have the tricks, I think, Sir Charles--Mrs. Vane the honors.--Mr. Vane will quit hazard and the clubs for Willoughby Manor and the double dummy of a matrimonial rubber. As for me, I revoke my lead of hearts. POM. After taking my ace of diamonds! TRIP. And poor Jemmy Triplet I suppose must once again take up his solitary hand at patience. WOFF. Unless Manager Rich is fool enough to accept my judgment for gospel--and then--but whom have we here? [_Enter Cibber, Quin, Mrs. Clive, Snarl and Soaper; Snarl and Soaper cross behind to R. H._] CIB. Ah! Mrs. Vane--Mr. Vane--Sir Charles--Peggy--Bonjour, Mesdames et Messieurs--Mr. Triplet, I congratulate you--stap my vitals! TRIP. Congratulate me! CLIVE. Yes--Quin here, who's a good natured bear, declares we behaved shamefully to you to-day, and so as Mr. Rich has just told us of your good fortune---- TRIP. My good fortune! there must be some mistake. You've come to the wrong house. QUIN. No; you have a prospect henceforward of dining every day of your life. 'Tis a great comfort, and I wish you appetite to enjoy it, Mr. Triplet.