THE Art of getting Money BY Double-faced WAGERS; OR, Cross and Pile whether MONS be Taken, or no? A DIALOGUE Between a Courtier, a Citizen, and a Sharper of the Town.  
The SCENE Jonathan's COFFE-HOUSE.  Parturiunt MONTES Nascitur ridiculus Mus. Court. 
HEre Sirrah— A Dish of Tea, and desire that Gentleman in the Band to speak with me— Oh, Sir, your Servant, (to the Citizen) i'faith I lately came from the Presence, and 'tis said, the Queen received an Express just now, that Mons was taken; Pray what News have you in the City?  Citiz. 
Mons taken, Sir? Ay, so is Venice, Sir! Lord, you Gentlemen of the t'other end of the Town have the strangest Intelligence! why, nothing but Pacolet's Flying Horse could bring over the News so suddenly.  Courti. 
Why do you doubt the Truth of it, Sir?  Cit 
I know no Reason I should let any Man's Opinion be the Standard of my Faith, for—  Courti. 
Perhaps 'tis your Interest, Sir, to disbelieve it, you have laid some Wagers upon that occasion, and I must confess, the Hopes of Winning, and the fear of Losing, will make any man suspend his belief for some time.  Citiz. 
The Truth on't is, Sir, I am a little dipped, some five or six Hundred Pounds to several Persons, and unless the Prince De Bergue, the Governor of the Town, sends me a Letter from his own hand, shall hardly believe the Affirmation of any Ostender that comes by the way of Plymouth. Mere sham's, Sir, mere sham's.  Courti. (Turning aside) 
Well, now have I a Roguish Inclination to by't this Opus & Vsus, and tho' I myself am a little doubtful of the matter, yet the singring of some City Gold, will be more pleasant to me, than a little Estate won at the Groom Porters. (Turning to him) Well, Sir, have you a few Dormant Guineas in your Closet, you are indifferent whether you Win or Lose upon this Occasion?  Citiz. 
Truly, Sir, Money was never reckoned by me amongst things indifferent; but I have Fifty Pound, I will venture to odds with any Person, that Mons will not be in the French King's Hands by the first of May—  Courti. 
No more words, Sir, I am your Man, here's ten hard pieces of Old Barbary Gold, with the Royal Effigies upon them— which said Sum shall be yours, if in a little time I do not convince you the Town is in the French hands; the Counterpart of which Obligation is, you are to give me Fifty Guineas, when you are undeniably convinced the Town is taken.  Citiz. 
With all my Heart, Sir; in Token whereof, here's my hand, Sir, and so good Luck attend me.  Enter a Sharper. Sharp. 
Boy— the Gazett— quickly, here's such a do with a little Netherlandish Town, not so big as Rumford, a● if all Europe lay at stake, and the Peace of Christendom depended upon the Relief of that single place— (softly to himself) Well, Money is my aim, and if 'tis any where, 'tis in the City; these Grave out-of-Fashion Sparks command the Gold, and i'faith, Good Men and True, it shall go hard, but I'll rid you of some on't in a very civil way. So, so, I see a kind of malicious Pleasure in a Gentleman's Face yonder, discoursing with Mr. Get-all the Merchant, I'll go a little nearer, and observe their motions, some Wager going forward, my Life to a Pepper-Corn; (comes up to 'em) What News, Gentlemen, from Flanders? Is Mons taken yet?  Citizen. 
Sir, You ask a very hard Question, I am no Privy-Counsellor, Sir.  Sharp. (Aside) 
No, I dare swear it— Come here's twenty Guineas w●●h any man, that Mons is not now under the French power.  Court. 
What odds d'ye allow, Sir, and what d'ye mean by the word Now?  Sharp. 
D'ye take one fo●● J●suit, Sir? By Now, I understand th● Numerical Hour of One in the Afternoon, April the 11th. 1691. And for the Wager, I am upon the square.  Court. 
I take you up, Sir— here's the Money; and by reason we are both Strangers to one another, we will deposit our Money in this civil Gentleman's hands, he is a substantial man, and his Word will pass where a Nobleman's Bond will signify nothing.  Sharp. 
With all my Heart, Sir— (Speaking to the Citizen) And now to you, Mr. Treasurer, I will lay the contrary Wager, that Mons has been in the French power ever since Tuesday the 31st. of March last.  Citiz. 
Why, Sir, do you lay cross Wagers?  Sharp. 
No matter for that, Sir, if you accept me, there's your money; for yours you are your own Cashkeeper.  Citiz. 
Come, Sir, 'tis done—  (strike hands.) Sharp. 
Gentlemen, there's a Sea-Captain gone down the Ally, I must needs speak with him. Your pardon, Gent.  Exit. Court. 
This is one of the pleasantest Sparks I ever met with; why this is like playing at Cards for nothing— However, though he gains little he is sure to be no loser by the bargain.  Citiz. 
For my part, I wish no better Estate to befall me, than the Wagers laid, pro and con, about this business: Complaints are made of the want of money; when you can hardly go into any Tavern or Coffeehouse, but the Guinea's are tumbling about with Mons is taken, and Mons is not taken; when upon the whole matter I cannot, with my political Spectacles, discern what mighty matter can be in it— But Interest swears all men to be true to their Principles.  Court. 
But if the French King bushes on his Fortune, all Flanders will be his in a little time, and then Mine here Van Pickleherring look to yourself; for if he goes on at this rate, he may dine in Amsterdam by Michaelmas day, for any thing I can guests.  Cit 
Yes, and at Christmas in Northampton! not too fast, Sir, not too fast; the Spaniards are a People slow in Action; but we have a Prince of our own, whom I hope will stop his Progress, and make him slacken his pace a little.  Court. 
If your Faith be great, I wonder it does not attempt to remove Mountains; were your Charity but half as large, you would certainly go to Heaven.  Cit 
So I shall, I hope, tho' I call the Pope the Whore of Babylon.  Courti. 
A little more Civility tho', as he is a Temporal Prince, 'twould not beamiss. But, Sir, what News have you of the Bilboa Fleet, they say the French have taken it, and sunk the Man of War, who was its Convoy?  Citiz. 
You may as well believe, the Peke of Tenariff is sunk; no, no— Heaven be Praised, they passed by Plymouth a few days since.  Courti. 
Why, a Master of the Insurance Office, offered Twenty Thousand Pound to any one, who would bear their Bank harmless; upon the first Rumours of the Vessels being lost.  Citiz. 
Had any one had the Gift of Prophecy, and taken his Money, he might have shaken hands with an Alderman.  Courti. 
But, Sir, does the News hold good, that the Packet Boat wherein the Bishop of L— Dr. Scot, Dr. Grove, etc. were supposed to be, is still missing?  Citiz. 
Mere Lies, sham's, Tricks, Amusements; well, these Inventing Lying Sons of Caterpillars, were I a Magistrate, should suffer the Law most severely, and Dance from Algate to Newgate, and from thence to Tyburn, to the Tune of Dr. O— taes his Jig.  Courti. 
The Truth must be confessed, there are a sort of designing People, who having no business of their own, make it their Employment to invent Lies, Stories, and Contradictions, to disturb the minds of the unthinking Vulgar— but I hope, Sir, Men of your refined Thoughts give no Credit to 'em.  Courti. 
Thanks for the Compliment, Sir.  Enter the Sharper in another Dress. Sharp. 
Gentlemen, set your Hearts at rest, Mons is as certainly gone as Luxemburgh.  Courti. (To the Citizen) 
D'ye hear that, Sir, D'ye hear that?  Citiz. 
Why I am not Deaf. But d'ye think I credit every flying idle Report?  Sharp. 
Sir, I came from a Gentleman just now, who had it from the Secretary's Office, who heard my Lord— affirm it, and I presume you Read the Gazette yesterday, Sir.  Citiz. 
Yes, but I don't believe a word on't; and to assure you I do not, give me Ten Guineas, Sir, and I'll enter into Bond to pay you Twenty Shillings a week, every week while you live, during the time (the supposed taken) Mons remains in the French Custody.  Charp. (Aside.) 
This is what I would have. Come, Sir, there's your Money. Now I think I have bit him finely, the French don't use to part with their Conquests so easily; this is as good as an Annuity for Life, come, Sir, if you please we'll to the Scriveners.  Citiz. 
Not too hasty, Sir— well, Sir, let me see you here tomorrow.  (Speaking to the Courtier.) Courtier. 
I'll not fail to wait on you, Sir.  Sharp. 
Nor I neither.  

Let Scraping Misers hoard up sordid Gains,  
The best Estate is a large stock of Brains.    

LONDON: Printed in the Year, 1691.