"
"Complain of me! and so you might indeed
If I had ventured on that foolish lead,
That fatal heart--but I forgot your play -
Some folk have ever thrown their hearts away."
"Yes, and their diamonds; I have heard of one
Who made a beggar of an only son."
"Better a beggar, than to see him tied
To art and spite, to insolence and pride."
"Sir, were I you, I'd strive to be polite,
Against my nature, for a single night."
"So did you strive, and, madam! with success;
I knew no being we could censure less!"
Is this too much? Alas! my peaceful Muse
Cannot with half their virulence abuse.
And hark! at other tables discord reigns,
With feign'd contempt for losses and for gains;
Passions awhile are bridled: then they rage,
In waspish youth, and in resentful age;
With scraps of insult--"Sir, when next you play,
Reflect whose money 'tis you throw away.
No one on earth can less such things regard,
But when one's partner doesn't know a card -
I scorn suspicion, ma'am, but while you stand
Behind that lady, pray keep down your hand.
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