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Updated: June 27, 2025
"In the meantime, you must pay your wager to Sedley," laughed Lydyard, "and as the house is really infected with the plague, it behoves you to call at the first apothecary's shop we find open, and get your apparel fumigated. You must not neglect due precautions."
"You are the death's-head at the feast, Lydyard," rejoined Parravicin, setting down his glass. "I hate the idea of the plague. It poisons all our pleasures. We must meet at noon to-morrow, at the Smyrna, to compare notes as to our successes. Before we separate, can I be of any further service to you, Wyvil?
It is one thing to be run through the arm, which you must own I managed as dexterously as the best master of fence could have done, and lose a few drops of blood for a mistress, but it is another to brave the plague on her account." "I care for nothing," replied Wyvil; "I will see her." "This is madness!" remonstrated Lydyard, still maintaining his grasp.
In pursuance of their design of seeking out an astrologer, Maurice Wyvil and Lydyard crossed Cheapside and entered Friday-street.
"I am glad it was a vain hope," replied Wyvil. "But I must scale a wall to surprise the garrison." "In that case you will need the rope-ladder," replied Lydyard; "it is in readiness." "I will carry it," said Pillichody, picking up the ladder which was lying in a corner of the room, and throwing it over his shoulders. "Bombs and batteries!
And as he shook the dice with a frenzied air, the major and Lydyard drew near the table, and even Wyvil roused himself to watch the result. "Twelve!" cried Disbrowe, as he removed the box. "My honour is saved! My fortune retrieved Huzza!" "Not so fast," returned Parravicin, shaking the box in his turn. "You were a little too hasty," he added, uncovering the dice. "I am twelve, too.
"A health to the grocer's daughter!" cried Wyvil, with difficulty repressing a shudder, as he uttered the pledge. "A health to the rich widow of Watling-street," cried Pillichody, draining a bumper, "and may I soon call her mine!" "I have no mistress to toast," said Lydyard; "and I have drunk wine enough. Do not forget, gentlemen, that the plague is abroad."
"He is engaged just now," replied the woman, in a much softer tone; "but I will take your message to him." "You have more money than wit," laughed Lydyard. "You should have kept back your fee till you had got the information." "In that case I should never have received any," replied Wyvil. "I have taken the surest means of obtaining admission to the house."
"True," replied Wyvil, "and as I feel too restless to go home at present, suppose we amuse ourselves by calling on some astrologer, to see whether the stars are favourable to my pursuit of this girl." "A good idea," replied Lydyard. "There are plenty of the 'Sons of Urania, as they term themselves, hereabouts. "A mere juggler will not serve my turn," returned Wyvil.
"Why, what the plague is the matter?" rejoined Lydyard. "Has your mistress played you false? Have you lost your wager?" "The plague is the matter," replied Wyvil, sternly. "Amabel is attacked by it. I must see her instantly." "The devil!" exclaimed Lydyard. "Here is a pretty termination to the affair. But if this is really the case, you must not see her.
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