plays [11]
from Seven Dials. Hillo! what's all
this?
AINSLIE. Dod, I'm for nae mair! (AT BACK, AND RISING.)
PLAYERS. Sit down, Ainslie. - Sit down, Andra. - Ma revenge!
AINSLIE. Na, na, I'm for canny goin'. (COMING FORWARD WITH
BOTTLE.) Deacon, let's see your gless.
BRODIE. Not an inch of it.
MOORE. No rotten shirking, Deacon!
[AINSLIE. I'm sayin', man, let's see your gless.
BRODIE. Go to the deuce!]
AINSLIE. But I'm sayin' -
BRODIE. Haven't I to play to-night?
AINSLIE. But, man, ye'll drink to bonnie Jean Watt?
BRODIE. Ay, I'll follow you there. A LA REINE DE MES AMOURS!
(DRINKS.) What fiend put this in your way, you hound? You've
filled me with raw stuff. By the muckle deil! -
MOORE. Don't hit him, Deacon; tell his mother.
HUNT (ASIDE). Oho!
SCENE III
To these, SMITH, RIVERS
SMITH. Where's my beloved? Deakin, my beauty, where are you?
Come to the arms of George, and let him introduce you. Capting
Starlight Rivers! Capting, the Deakin: Deakin, the Capting. An
English nobleman on the grand tour, to open his mind, by the
Lard!
RIVERS. Stupendiously pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr.
Deakin, split me!
[BRODIE. We don't often see England's heroes our way, Captain,
but when we do, we make them infernally welcome.
RIVERS. Prettily put, sink me! A demned genteel sentiment, stap
my vitals!]
BRODIE. Oh Captain! you flatter me. [We Scotsmen have our
qualities, I suppose, but we are but rough and ready at the best.
There's nothing like your Englishman for genuine distinction. He
is nearer France than we are, and smells of his neighbourhood.
That d-d thing, the JE NE SAIS QUOI, too! Lard, Lard, split me!
stap my vitals! O such manners are pure, pure, pure. They are,
by the shade of Claude Duval!]
RIVERS. Mr. Deakin, Mr. Deakin [this is passatively too much].
What will you sip? Give it the Hanar of a neam.
BRODIE. By these most Hanarable hands now, Captain, you shall
not. On such an occasion I could play host with Lucifer
himself. Here, Clarke, Mother Midnight! Down with you, Captain!
(FORCING HIM BOISTEROUSLY INTO A CHAIR.) I don't know if you can
lie, but, sink me! you shall sit. (DRINKING, ETC., IN
DUMB-SHOW.)
MOORE (ASIDE TO SMITH). We've nobbled him, Geordie!
SMITH (ASIDE TO MOORE). As neat as ninepence! He's taking it
down like mother's milk. But there'll be wigs on the green
to-morrow, Badger! It'll be tuppence and toddle with George
Smith.
MOORE. O muck! Who's afraid of him? (TO AINSLIE.) Hang on,
Slinkie.
HUNT (WHO IS FEIGNING DRUNKENNESS, AND HAS OVERHEARD; ASIDE). By
jingo!
[RIVERS. Will you sneeze, Mr. Deakin, sir?
BRODIE. Thanks; I have all the vices, Captain. You must send me
some of your rappee. It is passatively perfect.]
RIVERS. Mr. Deakin, I do myself the Hanar of a sip to you.
BRODIE. Topsy-turvy with the can!
MOORE (ASIDE TO SMITH). That made him wink.
BRODIE. Your high and mighty hand, my Captain! Shall we dice -
dice - dice? (DUMB-SHOW BETWEEN THEM.)
AINSLIE (ASIDE TO MOORE). I'm sayin' -?
MOORE. What's up now?
AINSLIE. I'm no to gie him the coggit dice?
MOORE. The square ones, rot you! Ain't he got to lose every
brass farden?
AINSLIE. What'll like be my share?
MOORE. You mucking well leave that to me.
RIVERS. Well, Mr. Deakin, if you passatively will have me shake
a Helbow -
BRODIE. Where are the bones, Ainslie? Where are the dice, Lord
George? (AINSLIE GIVES THE DICE AND DICE-BOX TO BRODIE; AND
PRIVATELY A SECOND PAIR OF DICE.) Old Fortune's counters the
bonnie money-catching, money-breeding bones! Hark to their dry
music! Scotland against England! Sit round, you tame devils,
and put your coins on me!
SMITH. Easy does it, my lord of high degree! Keep cool.
BRODIE. Cool's the word, Captain - a cool twenty on the first?
RIVERS. Done and done. (THEY PLAY.)
HUNT (ASIDE TO MOORE, A LITTLE DRUNK). Ain't that 'ere Scotch
gentleman, your friend, too
this?
AINSLIE. Dod, I'm for nae mair! (AT BACK, AND RISING.)
PLAYERS. Sit down, Ainslie. - Sit down, Andra. - Ma revenge!
AINSLIE. Na, na, I'm for canny goin'. (COMING FORWARD WITH
BOTTLE.) Deacon, let's see your gless.
BRODIE. Not an inch of it.
MOORE. No rotten shirking, Deacon!
[AINSLIE. I'm sayin', man, let's see your gless.
BRODIE. Go to the deuce!]
AINSLIE. But I'm sayin' -
BRODIE. Haven't I to play to-night?
AINSLIE. But, man, ye'll drink to bonnie Jean Watt?
BRODIE. Ay, I'll follow you there. A LA REINE DE MES AMOURS!
(DRINKS.) What fiend put this in your way, you hound? You've
filled me with raw stuff. By the muckle deil! -
MOORE. Don't hit him, Deacon; tell his mother.
HUNT (ASIDE). Oho!
SCENE III
To these, SMITH, RIVERS
SMITH. Where's my beloved? Deakin, my beauty, where are you?
Come to the arms of George, and let him introduce you. Capting
Starlight Rivers! Capting, the Deakin: Deakin, the Capting. An
English nobleman on the grand tour, to open his mind, by the
Lard!
RIVERS. Stupendiously pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr.
Deakin, split me!
[BRODIE. We don't often see England's heroes our way, Captain,
but when we do, we make them infernally welcome.
RIVERS. Prettily put, sink me! A demned genteel sentiment, stap
my vitals!]
BRODIE. Oh Captain! you flatter me. [We Scotsmen have our
qualities, I suppose, but we are but rough and ready at the best.
There's nothing like your Englishman for genuine distinction. He
is nearer France than we are, and smells of his neighbourhood.
That d-d thing, the JE NE SAIS QUOI, too! Lard, Lard, split me!
stap my vitals! O such manners are pure, pure, pure. They are,
by the shade of Claude Duval!]
RIVERS. Mr. Deakin, Mr. Deakin [this is passatively too much].
What will you sip? Give it the Hanar of a neam.
BRODIE. By these most Hanarable hands now, Captain, you shall
not. On such an occasion I could play host with Lucifer
himself. Here, Clarke, Mother Midnight! Down with you, Captain!
(FORCING HIM BOISTEROUSLY INTO A CHAIR.) I don't know if you can
lie, but, sink me! you shall sit. (DRINKING, ETC., IN
DUMB-SHOW.)
MOORE (ASIDE TO SMITH). We've nobbled him, Geordie!
SMITH (ASIDE TO MOORE). As neat as ninepence! He's taking it
down like mother's milk. But there'll be wigs on the green
to-morrow, Badger! It'll be tuppence and toddle with George
Smith.
MOORE. O muck! Who's afraid of him? (TO AINSLIE.) Hang on,
Slinkie.
HUNT (WHO IS FEIGNING DRUNKENNESS, AND HAS OVERHEARD; ASIDE). By
jingo!
[RIVERS. Will you sneeze, Mr. Deakin, sir?
BRODIE. Thanks; I have all the vices, Captain. You must send me
some of your rappee. It is passatively perfect.]
RIVERS. Mr. Deakin, I do myself the Hanar of a sip to you.
BRODIE. Topsy-turvy with the can!
MOORE (ASIDE TO SMITH). That made him wink.
BRODIE. Your high and mighty hand, my Captain! Shall we dice -
dice - dice? (DUMB-SHOW BETWEEN THEM.)
AINSLIE (ASIDE TO MOORE). I'm sayin' -?
MOORE. What's up now?
AINSLIE. I'm no to gie him the coggit dice?
MOORE. The square ones, rot you! Ain't he got to lose every
brass farden?
AINSLIE. What'll like be my share?
MOORE. You mucking well leave that to me.
RIVERS. Well, Mr. Deakin, if you passatively will have me shake
a Helbow -
BRODIE. Where are the bones, Ainslie? Where are the dice, Lord
George? (AINSLIE GIVES THE DICE AND DICE-BOX TO BRODIE; AND
PRIVATELY A SECOND PAIR OF DICE.) Old Fortune's counters the
bonnie money-catching, money-breeding bones! Hark to their dry
music! Scotland against England! Sit round, you tame devils,
and put your coins on me!
SMITH. Easy does it, my lord of high degree! Keep cool.
BRODIE. Cool's the word, Captain - a cool twenty on the first?
RIVERS. Done and done. (THEY PLAY.)
HUNT (ASIDE TO MOORE, A LITTLE DRUNK). Ain't that 'ere Scotch
gentleman, your friend, too