CROWD (Looking to the people) Blasted, so many hopes of gain! Hundreds of sober merchants are insane. Widows have sold their mourning clothes to eat. Herds of pale orphans forage in the street. Many a duchess, divested of gems, has crossed the dread Styx by way of the Thames. Oh stricken, take heart in placing the blame. Rakewell, Rakewell. Ruin, disaster, shame!.
(The crow breaks up) (Anne comes into the room)
ANNE Do you know where Tom Rakewell is?
THE FIRST GROUP America. He fled.
THE SECOND GROUP Spontaneous combustion caught him hurrying. He's dead.
ANNE Do you know what's become of him?
THE THIRD GROUP How should we?
THE FOURTH GROUP He's Methodist.
THE THIRD GROUP He's Papist.
THE FOURTH GROUP He's converting Jewry.
ANNE Can no one tell me where he is?
CROWD We're certain he's in debt. They're after him and they will catch him yet.
ANNE (Aside) I'll seek him in the house myself.
(She goes out)
THE FIRST AND THE SECOND GROUP I wonder at her quest.
THE THIRD AND THE FOURTH GROUP She's probably some silly girl, he ruined like the rest.
(The door opened. Sellem comes into the room with his servants. They bring a platform)
CROWD He's here, the auctioneer.
SELLEM (To the servants) No! Over there! Be quick. Take care.
CROWD (Each other) Your bids prepare. Be quick!. Take care!.