_Wild._ Madam, what happy star has conducted you hither to night!--A thousand devils of this fortune. [_Aside._ _Jac._ I was told you had ladies here, and fiddles; so I came partly for the divertisement, and partly out of jealousy. _Wild._ Jealousy! Why sure you do not think me a pagan, an infidel? But the company's broke up, you see. Am I to wait upon you home, or will you be so kind to take a hard lodging with me to-night? _Jac._ You shall have the honour to lead me to my father's. _Wild._ No more words, then; let's away, to prevent discovery. _Beat._ For my part, I think he has a mind to be rid of you. _Wild._ No: But if your lady should want sleep, 'twould spoil the lustre of her eyes to-morrow. There were a conquest lost. _Jac._ I am a peaceable princess, and content with my own; I mean your heart and purse; for the truth is, I have lost my money to-night in masquerade, and am come to claim your promise of supplying me. _Wild._ You make me happy by commanding me: To-morrow morning my servant shall wait upon you with three hundred pistoles. _Jac._ But I left my company, with promise to return to play. _Wild._ Play on tick, and lose the Indies, I'll discharge it all to-morrow. _Jac._ To-night, if you'll oblige me. _Wild._ Maskall, go and bring me three hundred pistoles immediately. _Mask._ Are you mad, sir? _Wild._ Do you expostulate, you rascal! How he stares; I'll be hanged if he have not lost my gold at play: If you have, confess; you had best, and perhaps I'll pardon you; but if you do not confess, I'll have no mercy. Did you lose it? _Mask._ Sir, 'tis not for me to dispute with you. _Wild._ Why, then, let me tell you, you did lose it. _Jac._ Ay, as sure as e'er he had it, I dare swear for him: But commend me to you for a kind master, that can let your servant play off three hundred pistoles, without the least sign of anger to him. _Beat._ 'Tis a sign he has a greater bank in store, to comfort him. _Wild._ Well, madam, I must confess I have more than I will speak of at this time; but till you have given me satisfaction---- _Jac._ Satisfaction! why, are you offended, sir? _Wild._ Heaven! that you should not perceive it in me: I tell you, I am mortally offended with you. _Jac._ Sure, 'tis impossible. _Wild._ You have done nothing, I warrant, to make a man jealous: Going out a gaming in masquerade, at unseasonable hours, and losing your money at play; that loss, above all, provokes me. _Beat._ I believe you; because she comes to you for more. [_Aside._ _Jac._ Is this the quarrel? I'll clear it immediately. _Wild._ 'Tis impossible you should clear it: I'll stop my ears, if you but offer it. There's no satisfaction in the point. _Jac._ You'll hear me?--