which she met me in the hours of leisure.
Oft hath she vow'd, that she despis'd the profit,
How great soe'er, that sunder'd us at times.
But all the halcyon days I once enjoy'd,
Do but conspire to aggravate the misery,
Which now quite weighs me down.

WILSON. Nor is it strange.
Your house is grown a nuisance to its neighbours,
Where twice in every week, if not more frequent,
A motley crowd at midnight hour assembles;
Whose ruffian-like attendants in the street,
Alarm the peaceful, and disturb their quiet.

ANDREWS. I know, I feel it all.

WILSON. Its inside too
Is not less riotous; where this same medly
Waste the whole night, destroying health and fortune,
Of ev'ry social duty quite regardless.

ANDREWS. They've been unseen by me. My health's weak state
Will not admit my sleeping in the city;
Whence also, I am often whole days absent;
As my neglected finances disclose.
Have you at any time beheld these scenes?

WILSON. Once, on the invitation of your spouse.

ANDREWS. Relate them, if not irksome.

WILSON. At your instance.
Then, the first object 'midst this wild assembly,
(For such the night's proceedings fully prov'd it)
That urg'd my wonder, was the heavy purses
Which were display'd there, even by the women,
Without remorse or shame.

ANDREWS. Ay, there!--Proceed.

WILSON. After the night had been near three part wasted,
Full half the meeting more like spectres seem'd
Than of this world. The clamour then grew great;
Whilst ev'ry torturing passion of the foul
Glar'd in the ghastly visages of several.
Some grinn'd in rage, some tore their hair, whilst others,
Upon their knees, with hands and eyes uplifted,
In curses dar'd assail all-ruling Providence
Under the varied names of Fate and Fortune.
Nor is there one in the black list of crimes,
Which these infernals seem'd not prompt to perpetrate,
Whilst on a cast their trembling fortunes hung.

ANDREWS. O Wilson! every passion, every power
Of the great human soul are by this vice,
This fatal vice of all, quite, quite absorb'd,
Save those which its fell purposes excite!
Oh! that most vile seducer lady Belmour!
Wer't not for her, my wife had been a stranger
To all those evils; I to all