Chapter III: Act THE SECOND: Scene I

_The Course.--A Shouting within._

_Enter TALLYHO and JOCKEY._

_Tall._ Huzza! Ecod, Dick, my boy, you did the thing nicely!

_Jockey._ Didn't I, your honour? I said I'd win for you--Huzza!

_Tall._ Huzza! we've banged the monsieurs. Hey for Yorkshire! d'ye hear--See Whirligig well rubbed down, and give her a horn of egg, milk, oil, and saffron; and while you lead her down the course in triumph, let the French horns play, _Britons strike home_. [Sings.] _Merry be the first of August._--Let's see, besides the fifteen thousand from this French Colonel Epaulette,--ay, I shall win twenty thousand by the day; and then my slang match to-morrow--Eh, Dick?

_Jockey._ Ay, sir; Whirligig and old England against the Globe--Huzza!

[_Exit._

_Enter ENGLISH WAITER._

_Eng. Wait._ Sir, my mistress would be glad to know how many she must provide dinner for.

_Tall._ Eh! Dinner!--true: Tell old Moll Casey to knock her whole house into one room, and to roast, boil, bake, and fricassee, as if she hadn't an hour to live--we're a roaring, screeching party----

_Enter LACKLAND._

_Lack._ Yes, tell your mistress we're a numerous party--I've left my name at the bar.

[_Calling out._

[_Exit WAITER._

_Tall._ Yes, I dare say they have your name in the bar--I see, by his grin, he wants to come Captain Borrowman, but 'twon't do.

[_Aside._

_Lack._ Ah, Tallyho, my dear fellow, I give you joy--Upon my honour I never saw finer running in the whole course of----

_Tall._ I won't lend you sixpence.

_Lack._ Sir!

_Tall._ It's a fine day.

_Lack._ Why, sir, as to the--ha! ha! ha! Upon my soul, you are the most----

_Tall._ So I am, ha! ha! ha!

_Lack._ Ha! ha! ha! Oh, I have you, ha! ha! ha!

_Tall._ No, you han't, ha! ha! ha! Nor you won't have me, ha! ha! ha! I'm not to be had--know a thing or two--up to all--if you're flint, I'm steel.

_Lack._ Well, but don't strike fire to me--reserve your flashes of wit or----

_Tall._ You will catch them, as your coat is a kind of tinder, ha! ha! ha!

_Lack._ Sir, I desire you will find some other subject for your jokes.

_Tall._ True, your coat is rather a thread-bare subject, ha! ha! ha!--touching the cash makes a body so comical, ha! ha! ha!

_Lack._ Cash; ay, your wit is sterling to-day, Tallyho, and as you carry your brains in your pocket, I wish you'd change me a twenty pound joke.

_Tall._ Ha! ha! ha! Ah, well, Lackland, you're so full of jokes, that you even laugh at the elbows, ha! ha! ha! that is the best humoured suit of clothes--

_Lack._ [_Calmly._] Sir, if you were any body else, upon my honour, I'd knock you down!

_Tall._ Hold, if you raise your arm, you'll increase the laugh--Come, don't be angry, [_Looks out._] and I'll help you to a graver sort o'coat, that's not quite so much upon the broad grin, ha! ha! ha! Hush! I'll introduce you to Colonel Epaulette yonder.

_Lack._ [_Looking._] That, ay, a right Frenchman; one might guess by his mirth that he has lost to day.

_Tall._ True; but I keep up the old saying, ha! ha! ha! they may laugh that win.

_Lack._ I've heard the most unaccountable stories of his attempt at our style of doing things.

_Tall._ Yes, I'm his tutor; I teach him all our polite accomplishments.

_Lack._ Polite! then I suppose he can drink, swear, play at cricket, and smoke tobacco.

_Tall._ Yes, he comes on, but I'll give him up to you--or you to him, to get rid of you.

[_Aside._

_Lack._ Yet, I am told this French gentleman has a most benevolent heart--a man of much worth.

_Tall._ Yes, he is worth twenty thousand a year.

_Lack._ I like a man of twenty thousand a year--hem! tell him who I am.

[_With great Consequence._

_Tall._ I'll tell him, you're a wrangling mastiff, pointer-made--he thinks so highly of our courage, with him, the boldest bully, is the bravest Briton, ha! ha! ha!--he's so fond of our English customs, ha! ha! ha! why, he'd introduce himself to a duchess, with a zounds; and thinks if he can come out with a dozen dammes or so, he speaks very good English.

_Enter COLONEL EPAULETTE, singing._

Colonel E. _Rule Britannia, Britannia rule de vay._ Ah, my victorious squire--[_Sings._] _If you should like, De Yorkshire tyke, an honest lad behold me._

_Both._ Tol lol de rol, &c.

_Colonel E._ I lose five tousand to you on dis match--Dere is one tousand on de Paris bank, two de bank of England, von Drummond, and von Child.

[_Gives Notes._

_Lack._ Tallyho, as I have none of my own, I'll adopt that child.

_Colonel E._ [_Looks at LACKLAND with Admiration._] Ha! ha! ha! Le drole!

_Tall._ Oh yes, it's a very good joke. [_Puts up Notes._] Colonel, this here is Squire What d'ye call him--Squire, that there is Colonel Thing-o-me, and now you know one another, shake fists.

_Lack._ Sir, your most obedient.

_Tall._ Colonel, this is an honest fellow, and a finished gentleman; a jig or allemande--Robin Gray or Mallbrook--he'll whip you through with a small sword, or break your head with a cudgel.

_Colonel E._ I'm much oblig'd to him, but is he fond of play?

_Tall._ Play! He'll pull the longest straw for a twenty pound joke, or run with you in a sack for a ginger-bread hat.

_Lack._ Sir, my friend Tallyho is rather lavish in his recommendations--I have the honour to be known, and, indeed, live with some persons, not of the lowest order, in this, and--every country.

_Tall._ Yes, he has so many great acquaintances, and so polite himself--look at his hat--he has almost saluted away the front cock.

_Lack._ I hate ceremony, but one must be civil, you know.

_Tall._ Says so many good things too!--A capital bon motter.

_Lack._ Hang it!--no, Tallyho, my wit is rather o' the--sometimes, indeed, comes out with a little sally, that----

_Colonel E._ Sir, I should be proud to be introduced to your little Sally.

_Lack._ Ha! ha! ha! You shall, Colonel--my little Molly, and my little Jenny, and--ha! ha! ha! you see what I am, Colonel--rather an ordinary fellow, [_Conceitedly._] but the ladies do squint at me, now and then, ha! ha! ha!--overheard a most diverting confab amongst that group of ladies yonder, as I passed them--Oh, dear! look at him, says one--at who? says another--that smart gentleman, says a third--I vow, a monstrous pretty fellow, says a fourth--but who is he? perhaps he's the English ambassador--oh, madam, not he, oh, not him, no, no--but at last they all concluded, from a certain something in my air, that I can be no other than--the Emperor, incog.--ha! ha! ha!

_All._ Ha! ha! ha!

_Tall._ Well said, Master Emperor! ha! ha! ha! but I will new robe your Imperial Majesty. [_Apart to LACKLAND._] I'll touch him for a coat for you--A man of high taste in our modes. [_Apart to the COLONEL._] I'll try and get him to change a suit with you.

_Lack._ Why, I must say, I'm somewhat partial to the Newmarket style.

_Colonel E._ I tink his coat look de Oldmarket style.

_Tall._ Yes, but from your coat, and your feathered head, he took you for a drummer.

_Colonel E._ Sacre Dieu! he did not--Zounds--Damme!

_Tall._ [_To the COLONEL._] Yes; but he's such a shot, he'd snuff a candle on your head!

_Colonel E._ Sir, I vill snuff my head myself; and I vill snuff my nose myself, in spite of any body.

[_Takes Snuff in a hasty manner._

_Lack._ Colonel, without offence to your nose, lend me your little finger.

_Tall._ Do, he'll give it you again.

_Colonel E._ [_Shaking Hands with LACKLAND._] Ah, I see he is de true Englishman; for he has de courage to fight, and de good nature to forgive.--Mr. Lackland, vill you dine vid me to-morrow?

_Lack._ Dine! my dear fellow, I'll breakfast with you--I'll stay a whole month in your house.

_Colonel E._ [_With Joy._] Indeed!

_Tall._ Yes, and you'll find it cursed hard to get him out of it, he's so friendly.

_Colonel E._ [_To LACKLAND._] Gi' me your hand--You're a most hospitable fellow! Zounds! Damme!

_Lack._ Oh, pray, Tallyho, isn't that your sister Celia?

_Tall._ [_Looking._] Yes, that's sister Celia.

_Lack._ Haven't seen her some time--A fine girl, indeed!

_Tall._ I wish I'd left her behind, in Paris.--Badger'd--pestered with petticoats, when one has their betts and their business to mind.

_Colonel E._ I vill vait on de lady.

_Lack._ Yes, we'll all wait on the lady.--I shall engage her hand at the ball to-night.

_Tall._ Lackland, be quiet: she has a fortune.

_Lack._ Well, has her money spoiled her dancing?

_Tall._ No; but I am her guardian, Master Emperor.

_Lack._ Ha! ha! ha! then, by Heaven! I'll attack Miss Buffalo, or what is that--the grocer's----

_Tall._ What, then you have thrust your copper face into Sir John Bull's family?

_Lack._ Bull! ay, I thought it was some beast or other.

_Colonel E._ Oh, my Lady de Bull--Oh, dat is she, dat is recommend to me by a noble duke in Paris.

_Tall._ The daughter Doll is a fine filly--We start for matrimony, on our return to Paris.

_Lack._ After dinner, I'll challenge him in pint bumpers of Casey's burgundy.

_Colonel E._ And I sall shake an elbow, and set de merry caster.

_Tall._ Very well, very well, gentlemen, have at you both--yoicks--hurrah!

AIR.--TALLYHO.

_I'm yours at any sort of fun,
My buck, I'll tell you so;
A main to fight, a nag to run,
But say the word, 'tis done and done,
All's one to Tallyho._

_Upon a single card I'll set
A thousand pound, or so.
But name the thing, I'll bind the bet,
And, if I lose, I'll scorn to fret;
All's one to Tallyho._

_Suppose you challenge in a glass,
Sweet Doll, my pretty Doe;
And think your love could mine surpass,
I'd swallow hogsheads, for my lass,
All's one to Tallyho._

[Exeunt.

_Enter CELIA, calling after them._

_Celia._ Brother! why, brother! was there ever such a mad mortal! Lud, I wish he'd left me in Paris. I wish I hadn't left England--Fontainbleau!--better to have shone on the Steyne, at Brighton--Bless me! I wish I had only one dear beau, if but to keep me out o'the way o'the coaches--talk of French gallantry, and attention to the ladies! I protest, we've quite spoiled them--No, I find I have no chance here, while rivalled by Eclipse, Gimcrack, and Whirligig--Now, if love would but throw the handsome officer in my way, that entertained me so agreeably at the Sunday opera, at Paris.

_Enter HENRY and ROSA._

_Henry._ [_Seeing CELIA._] Yes, 'tis she, 'tis my charming unknown.

[_Aside._

_Celia._ Is that lady with him? [_ROSA takes HENRY'S Arm._] takes him by the arm!--I wonder women haven't some regard to decency, in public!

[_Exit, singing._

_Rosa._ [_Agitated, and looking about._] If Lord Winlove follows me,--death to him, or my brother, must be the consequence. [_Aside._] Henry, if you design to take me to the convent to-night, we shall be too late--the gate's shut at vespers.

_Henry._ [_Looking after CELIA,_] 'Sdeath, if I lose her now, difficult, perhaps, to meet again--and, if I quit Rosa, she'll----

_Enter LAPOCHE._

_Lap._ Ah, Mademoiselle Rosa! I'm glad you have escape from dat cruel rogue of a--[_HENRY turns._] my dear friend, I am so overjoice I overtake a you--I did vash you all over dis great horse field--I did ask a for you all de littel jockeyboy, and I vas vip, and push, and kick, and tump about, from dis a post, to dat a post--

_Henry._ Well, pray what did you want with me?

_Lep._ Only in your hurry, I did forget to give you de receipt for your lodging money.

_Henry._ Oh, I forgot to pay you, that's it; but I wasn't gone.--[_Looking out._] If she mixes in that crowd, I shall certainly lose her--may I venture to leave Rosa in this fellow's care? [_Aside._] Lepoche, I want to speak to a person yonder, you'll oblige me exceedingly, if you'll not quit this lady till I return.

_Lep._ [_Apart._] I varrant I vil stick close.

_Henry._ Rosa, I shall be back in a few minutes.

[_Exit._

_Lap._ [_Aside._] Ah, dat you may never come back, except to pay a me.

_Rosa._ Cruel Henry! so severely to censure me for a passion, of which, your own heart is so susceptible!

_Lap._ Oh my dearest, sweetest----

_Rosa._ Tell me, have you seen the gentleman since?

_Lep._ De pretty gentilhomme dat love a you? oui.

_Rosa._ Where?

_Lep._ Dis morning, in my looking glass.

_Rosa._ How perplexing! Tell me, man--I mean the gentleman that--has that gentleman been to inquire for me since?

_Lep._ Ah, sly coquin--I have hear all about you--You, 'scape from de convent in man's coat, to de gentleman--den here you run avay vid de captain from de gentleman, and now, I see it in your eye, you vant to run back to de gentleman again.

_Rosa._ You're not much out there.

_Lep._ I see she love me ver much. [_Aside._] I vill go see vere de captain is got--hush you little devil of a sly pretty rogue!

[_Exit._

_Rosa._ How perverse! by loitering here, Lord Winlove and Henry must certainly meet, and I have the worst to dread from their violence of temper.

_Enter LAPOCHE._

_Lap._ All is safe--your captain is facing up to anoder lady--come to my house vid me.

_Rosa._ 'Tis certainly the surest, and speediest means of seeing my lord again--then the necessity of relieving him from the anxiety, into which, my absence must have thrown him--I'm strongly tempted, notwithstanding the impertinence of this fellow.

_Lep._ She ver fond of me, vonce I have her in my power, if she be unkind--up I lock her for de Lady Abbess. [_Aside._] Oh, you pretty pattern for a tailor's wife--I do adore de dimple of your chin--your hand soft as Englis broad cloth--your lip, Genoa velvet, and your eye bright as de Birmingham button.

SCENE II.

_Another Part of the Course._

_Enter CELIA and HENRY._

_Henry._ Charming creature! since the joy inspired by your conversation at the opera, and the grief of such a hopeless parting, to the instant of this lucky meeting, I have not enjoyed a moment's peace.

_Celia._ You think this a lucky meeting, sir; I congratulate you on your good fortune, and leave you to the enjoyment of your happiness.

[_Courtesies and going, he takes her Hand._

_Henry._ One moment, my love!

_Celia._ Very fine, this; so here my captive presumes to make his conqueror a prisoner of war!

_Henry._ I am your captive, your slave--thus I kiss my chain; [_Kisses her Hand._] and thus on my knee--

_Celia._ Stop, you'll soil your regimentals.

_Henry._ Dear, charming--[_Aside._] I wish I knew her name.

_Celia._ Ha! ha! ha! do forgive me.

_Henry._ I am enchanted with your gaiety, charmed with your beauty--

_Celia._ 'Pray, were you ever enchanted, or charmed before?

_Henry._ But never lov'd till now.

_Celia._ Oh, if you're serious, I must--Come, come, come, I'll talk no more to you; walk that way, and I'll walk this way.

_Henry._ Nay, but my angel--

_Celia._ Well, well, I know all that, but if you really expect to meet me in the field again, you must send me a challenge by my brother--Eh--but I'll not tell you, for you seem to be conceited enough already.

AIR.--CELIA.

_No hurry I'm in to be married,
But if it's the will of my brother,
I'd much rather stay,
Yet, since in the way,
I as well may have you as another._

_A strange custom this, to be marry'd,
Though follow'd by father and mother,
The grave and the gay,
But, since in the way,
I as well may have you as another._

_A prude, though she long to be marry'd,
Endeavours her wishes to smother,
I'd give you her nay,
But, since in the way,
I as well may have you as another._

[Exit.

_Henry._ Charming woman!

_Tallyho._ [_Without._] Yoics! I'll bring in the stragglers--I'm the boy to fill the rooms, and empty the bottles.

_Henry._ Oh, here's Tallyho--as this brother she speaks of, is a man of the turf, probably he knows him--I'll just ask him, and--then for my sister Rosa.

_Enter TALLYHO._

_Tall._ I'm an excellent whipper-in for the bottle--Oh, ho! [_Looking at HENRY, then takes him under the Arm._] Come along.

_Henry._ Where?

_Tall._ To get drunk, to be sure--You wear his Majesty's cloth, and go to bed sober, when my English Whirligig has beat the mounseers!--Such a pack of jolly dogs! such burgundy!--won't you come and get drunk with us?

_Henry._ Certainly, my boy--but, pray, Tallyho, can you tell me--you saw the young lady that parted from me now--admirably handsome!----

_Tall._ Handsome! Yes, every body says she's like me.

_Henry._ I shall soon call her mine.

_Tall._ The devil you shall!

_Henry._ I have some hopes; the only obstacle is a brother--but, perhaps, you know him--one of our stupid, thick-headed fellows, without an idea, beyond a cock, or a horse.

_Tall._ For fifty pounds, I have as many ideas as you.

_Henry._ You!

_Tall._ Yes, Mr. Captain; who gave you commission to talk o'my thick head?

_Henry._ What a blunder! [_Aside._] But, really, Squire, is that young lady your sister?

_Tall._ Celia? yes, to be sure she is my sister, and that's your share of her too. [_Snaps his Fingers._] She has a great fortune, and you captains are damned poor--but, huzza! I have it, tol de rol lol!--[_Sings and capers._] You shall fill your pockets with French gold--Louis d'ors, sous and souces, you damned son of a--give me your hand.

_Henry._ Now, what--what is all--

_Tall._ You shall go halves in my slang match to-morrow. Colonel Epaulette has matched his Black Prince, to run against my Kick-him-Jenny--it's play or pay.--You shall back his Black Prince, take all the odds--I will get my jockey to lame Kick-him-Jenny; and, to give a colour for her not being able to run, I've mounted Sir John Bull to take an airing on her, ha! ha! ha!--I warrant she plays him some prank or other, so, as he's a bad horseman, I'll lay her accident upon him--she can't run--pays forfeit--you sweep the field--touch them all--and when you've gathered in the cash, we'll meet privately, and divide it, even, fair and honest, in our pockets--Damme, there's our snug ten thousand a piece with a twopenny nail!

_Henry._ And this, perhaps, you call honour?

_Tall._ Yes, 'tis good turf honour.

_Henry._ What! to be a scoundrel?

_Tall._ Oh, very well; if you're so nice--ay, now, you're a very delicate chicken! But, harkye, the next time you see sister Celia, don't look at her.

[_Going_

_Henry._ Stop, Tallyho--I think I'll punish my knowing one. [_Aside._] On second thoughts, I will join with you in this roguery.

_Tall._ Then you're a cursed honest fellow--my sister's yours.

_Henry._ Ay, with her consent----

_Tall._ Her consent! if we make the match, what has her consent to do with it?--but I'll settle that--come, you shall have it from her own mouth, this instant.

_Henry._ But what shall I do with Rosa?

[_Aside, and looking out._

_Tall._ What, are you making a set, my pointer? Come, and be merry with us--Why, I'll get drunk to-night, though I'm in love up to the saddle girts--Oh, my darling Dolly!

_Henry._ Oh, Miss Bull--Ay, we shall soon have you a bridegroom too.

_Tall._ Yes, ha! ha! ha! I shall soon be a happy bull-calf.

_DUETT.--HENRY and TALLYHO._

Tall. _Your hand_,

Henry. _Your hand_,

Tall. _My hero_,

Henry. _My buck_,

Tall. _No more words_;

Henry. _No more pother_!

Tall. } _My sister is yours_,
}
Henry. } _Your sister is mine_,

Both. _And the bargain is struck_,

Tall. _My brother!_

Henry. _My brother!_

Both. _The field round_,

Tall. _We'll slang 'em_,

Henry. _We'll slang 'em_,

Tall. _And if they complain, the captain shall bang 'em._

Henry. _In this and that, and every nation_,

Tall. _Every rank, and every station,
All, all declare,
That cheating is fair,_

Henry. _If it takes but the knowing one in._

Tall. _Miss Polly, how coy!
With her amorous boy,
Cries, dear sir! Oh fie, sir! and bridles her chin;
You impudent man, you,
How can you? how can you?_

Henry. _'Tis all_

Tall. _'Tis all_

Both. _To take the knowing one in;
For all declare,
That cheating is fair,
If it takes but the knowing one in._

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

_An Apartment in the Hotel._

_Enter SIR JOHN BULL, with a large Patch upon his Forehead, and
FRENCH WAITER._

_Sir J. B._ Ah, see when they catch me upon a race horse again!--That scoundrel, Tallyho, did it to break my neck--Above all the beasts o'the field, to mount me upon Kick-him-Jenny! But I must get something to this cut--Have you no 'pothecaries here in France? [_WAITER bows, and cringes._] I say, get me a doctor--[_WAITER bows and cringes._]--I want a surgeon.

[_Loud._

_Waiter._ Oui, you be Sir John--

[_Bows, &c._

_Sir J. B._ D'ye understand?--I was riding, and Tallyho's mare threw me--[_Roaring, WAITER bowing, &c._] You scoundrel! what, d'ye stand grinning at me? Get somebody to dress my head.

_Waiter._ Oui, monsieur.

[_Exit._

_Sir J. B._ Oh dear, oh dear! get me once out of France--Then my wife and daughter! such a pair of mademoiselles, as they are making of themselves, to receive this great French Colonel Epaulette----Egad, here they come, in full puff!

_Enter LADY BULL and DOLLY, extravagantly dressed._

_Sir J. B._ [_Bows ridiculously._] A-la-mode de Paree!

_Miss Dolly B._ Bless me, papa, what's the matter?

_Lady B._ What, have you been fighting, Sir John?

[_Looking at his Forehead._

_Sir J. B._ Fighting! no, my Lady Bull--I got upon Kick-him-Jenny, she threw me off, and broke my head.

[_Eying them curiously._

_Lady B._ What is he at now?

_Sir J. B._ Eh, nothing. [_Looking, and smothering a Laugh._] George, get me a pipe.

_Miss Dolly B._ La, papa, let's have no piping here!

_Lady B._ Pipes! what man, d'ye think you're at Dobney's bowling-green?

_Miss Dolly B._ Consider, we are now at Fontainbleau, in France, papa, the very country seat of the beau monde.

_Sir J. B._ Oh, very well--Mrs. Casey, get me yesterday's Ledger.

_Lady B._ Ledger! Oh, now, he's got to Garraway's--I tell you again, you are not at Margate, raffling for twopenny toys.

_Miss Dolly B._ Or dancing in your boots, at Dandelion, papa--La now, do, pa, get into the mode, like us!

_Sir J. B._ Thank you, daughter, but I'm not quite so modish.

_Lady B._ But, consider, my dear, if Colonel Epaulette does us the honour of a visit, how he'll be shocked at your appearance!

_Sir J. B._ Thank you, thank you, wife; but I don't think I'm quite so shocking.

_Lady B._ Then, if he does introduce us to the prince--Sir John, to tell you a secret, I have already sent for one Mr. Lapoche, a celebrated French tailor, to make you a new suit of clothes for the occasion.

_Sir J. B._ A French tailor for me!--very well, very well, ladies.

_Enter FIRST WAITER._

_Waiter._ Mr. Lackland, madam; would you chuse to see him?

_Sir J. B._ Ay, ay, let the poor devil come up.

[_Exit WAITER._

_Lady B._ Mr. Lackland! ay, here's more of your--a pretty thing, to come all the way to France, to pick up English acquaintances! and then, such a paltry--shabby----

_Enter LACKLAND, elegantly dressed in COLONEL EPAULETTE'S Clothes._

_Lack._ Ladies, your most obedient--How d'ye do, Bull?

_Sir J. B._ [_Looking at him with Surprise._] Shabby!--Eh!--Why, in the name of--Oh! ho!--Ha! ha! ha!--recovered the arables, or another old fool from Throgmorton Street?

_Lack._Oh, pray don't let my presence disconcert any body--Ladies, I dined with my friend Tallyho, and Colonel Epaulette; the colonel understanding that I admitted Sir John here, to some share of my notice, begged I'd make his respects, and that he'd wait on you immediately.

_Lady B._ Now, Miss Bull, summon all the graces.

_Miss Dolly B._ Oh, lud! and the powder's all--the duchess's barber must titivate me up directly.

_Lack._ Miss, don't mind me--people say I'm particular--but I'm the most condescending--Bull, be seated.

_Sir J. B._ Bull! I will not be seated.

_Lack._ Yes, she is a fine girl, indeed.

_Sir J. B._ Who, Doll? Yes, Doll's a dev'lish fine girl, and I shall give fourscore thousand pounds with her.

_Lack._ What!--[_Aside._] This may prove a good hit--but such a vulgar family!--Hearkye--pray--[_With Haughtiness and Contempt._] You've kept shop?

_Sir J. B._ Fifteen years--the Grasshopper, on Garlick Hill.

_Lack._ And you sold raisins, and--

_Sir J. B._ Yes, I did, and figs too.

_Lady B._ D'ye hear him?

_Lack._ [_Aside._] Hem! Yes, I'll marry her--a dowdy--he's a seller of figs--yet, fourscore thousand--

_Sir J. B._ And yet, do you know----

_Lack._ [_Puts him back gently._] Softly--Ma'am, [_To MISS DOLLY BULL._]--upon my soul, you're a very fine creature!

_Miss Dolly B._ Sir! [_Aside._] Lord, I like him, vastly!

_Lack._ I say, ma'am, I--but, hold--I had best begin with a compliment to the mother though--Ma'am,--[_Looks first at LADY BULL, then at SIR JOHN._]--Figs! [_Stifling a Laugh._] Ma'am, your dress is extremely elegant--admirably fancied--and----

_Sir J. B._ Yet if I was to advise----

_Lack._ [_Puts him back, without looking at him._] Be quiet, Bull--with so many native charms--difficult to say, whether ornaments grace the person, or the person ornaments the dress.

_Miss Dolly B._ He's vastly well bred, mamma.

_Lady B._ Yes, but speaks English too plain for a gentleman.

_Lack._ Miss Bull's spirit and good humour, is the emblem of English liberty, and your ladyship, [_Bows._] the Ninon de l'Enclos of Britain.

_Sir J. B._ [_Aside._] Ninon-don--talks French--I lent him a guinea too--well!

_Lack._ I presume, ladies, you go to the ball to-night--if disengaged, miss, I should be proud of the honour of your hand.

_Miss Dolly B._ Yes, sir, with all my heart, sir.

_Sir J. B._ Your heart, hussy! didn't you promise Squire Tallyho?

_Miss Dolly B._ True, papa; but then, I hadn't seen this gentleman.

_Lady B._ Haven't I hopes of Colonel Epaulette, for you?

_Miss Dolly B._ Ay, but none of us have ever seen the colonel--he mayn't like me, and, perhaps, I mayn't like him.

_Lady B._ Dolly, you're too ready with your yes.

_Lack._ Consider, if your ladyship had always cruelly said no, Miss Dolly could never have been the admiration of the Court of Versailles.

_Sir J. B._ Yes, and I dare say----

_Lack._ Softly, my honest fellow.

_Sir J. B._ [_Stamping._] What d'ye mean, friend--honest fellow! I don't believe you know who you're talking to!--[_Aside._] Oh, oh! Tallyho is likely to be jockeyed here--[_Calls out._] Bob, if Squire Tallyho comes, show him----

_Lady B._ Show him out of the house.

_Miss Dolly B._ What! the Squire?

_TALLYHO sings without._

_At six in the morning, by most of the clocks,
We rode to Kilruddery, in search of a fox. Tol de rol lol._

_Lack._ Here comes Tallyho--Yes, Casey's burgundy has quite done him up.

_Lady B._ Fontainbleau! one might as well be at Ascot Heath.

_Enter TALLYHO, drunk, and singing._

Tall. _Or, I'll leap over you, your blind gelding and all, tol de rol_--Ha! ha! ha! Sir John, I am so sorry you should be hurt by that fall!

_Sir J. B._ Ha! ha! ha! Yes, I see you are very sorry.

_Tall._ But how is your leg?

_Sir J. B._ My leg! it's my forehead.

_Tall._ Ah! ha! my old prize fighter!

_Sir J. B._ I've been fighting your battles here.--

[_LADY BULL looks scornfully at TALLYHO._

_Tall._ Right, Sir John--[_Observing her._] for I see, if the grey mare's the better horse, I lose the filly.

_Lady B._ I can't stay with this savage.

_Lack._ Will your ladyship honour me--Miss Dolly, your lily hand--

[_Takes her Hand._

_Tall._ [_Interposing._] No matter whether her hand is a lily, or a tulip, or a daffydowndilly--by your leave, neighbour--

[_Gets between DOLLY and LACKLAND._

_Lack._ Sir, you know I am always ready to correct insolence; if a man insults me, 'tisn't his fortune can protect him--[_Turning to SIR J. BULL._] pr'ythee, Bull, step and ask if I left my snuff-box in the bar below. Mr. Tallyho, when you're inclined to quarrel, I am always ready to go out with you.

_Tall._ My Lady Bull will go out with you, and I wish her much joy of her company.

[_Bows very low._

[_Exit LACKLAND, leading LADY BULL._

Sir John, I am so hurt that my mare should--how is your collar bone now?

_Sir J. B._ Pshaw! don't you see it's my forehead--Go out with him! isn't that one of your sword and pistol terms?

_Tall._ Oh yes, at those amusements, in a small room, that gentleman is, indeed, pretty company.

_Miss Dolly B._ Lord, he must be charming company, in a small room!

[_With great Glee._

_Sir J. B._ An impudent dog! to send me out for his snuff-box too.

_Miss Dolly B._ I do like him monstrously!

_Tall._ Like him! why, Doll, you're a fox upon a double ditch--none can tell which side you'll leap--ho, ho! what, am I thrown out here, old Hurlo-thrumbo?

_Sir J. B._ Me--I don't know what this fellow has been about here, among them, with his snuff, and his feathers--but where have you been, Tallyho? I tell you, if you'd have Doll, you must stick to her, my boy.

_Miss Dolly B._ Ay, that you must, indeed, my boy--Lord, Squire, what has made you so tipsy?

_Tall._ Love and burgundy--swallowing your health, my sweet Dolly Douse--

Sings.

_Had Diana been there, she'd been pleas'd to the life.
And one of the lads got a goddess to wife._

[_Takes her Hand._

When you come across my noddle--tipsy-gipsy--I get upon the half cock, and then--a dozen bumpers makes me--tol de rol lol--ha! ha! ha! old dad--how cursed comical you looked, when Kick-him-Jenny flung you over her ears, ha! ha! ha! damme, you came upon all fours, like a tom cat with a parachute, ha! ha! ha!

_Miss Dolly B._ Ha! ha! ha! Oh, what a rare fellow you are, ha! ha! ha!--what fine game you do make of my father! ha! ha! ha!

_Sir J. B._ Game o'your father! why, you confounded jade--

_Tall._ Sir John, I am sorry my mare broke your nose.

_Sir J. B._ Zounds! don't you see it's my forehead?--but, however, I forgive you, since--ha! ha! ha!--I'm so pleas'd at your winning the race to-day, and beating the mounseers, that, if I'd twenty daughters, and each with a plumb in her mouth, you should have them all.

_Tall._ [_Looking at his Tablets._] Plumb! Oh, true, Sir Jackey, my lad, I have you down here, for a fifty.

_Sir J. B._ How?

_Tall._ That you owe me.

_Sir J. B._ Me? I never borrowed sixpence of you, in my life.

_Tall._ No, but you lost fifty pounds though.

_Sir J. B._ [_Alarmed._] Lost! oh, lord! I had a fifty pound note in my pocket book--[_Takes out his Pocket Book._] No, 'faith, here it is.

_Tall._ Then you may as well give it me, Jackey.

_Sir J. B._ Give it you! for what?

_Tall._ Why, don't you know you laid me fifty pounds upon the colonel's Joan of Arc, and didn't my Whirligig beat her?

_Sir J. B._ Damn your Whirligig!

_Miss Dolly B._ Oh, lord, father! how can you damn his Whirligig?

_Tall._ Come, fifty pounds here--down with your dust!

_Miss Dolly B._ Ay, papa, down with your dust!

_Sir J. B._ You hussy! I'll dust your gown for you!

_Tall._ Why, didn't you lay?

_Sir J. B._ Lay! I remember, I said, I thought the brown horse run the fastest.

_Tall._ Yes, but when I laid fifty he'd lose, didn't you say done?

_Sir J. B._ And so you come the dun upon me--pho, pho! none of your jokes, man.

_Tall._ Jokes! you shall pay me in earnest.

_Sir J. B._ Pay you--what the devil, do you think I'll give you fifty pounds, because one horse thrusts his nose out before another? Doll, that's a rogue!

_Tall._ Rogue! Cut while you're well--I'll make no more words--that bet was done and done, and if you don't pay me, I'll post you at Tattersal's--indeed, I will, Sir Jackey, my lad.

_Miss Dolly B._ Never mind old Fogrum--run away with me.

[_Apart to TALLYHO._

_Sir J. B._ Oh, very well--there--[_Gives a Note._] by winning fifty pounds, you lose my daughter, and fourscore thousand; and now post that at Tattersal's, Tally, my lad--Dolly, child, go to your mamma.

_Miss Dolly B._ I won't--I won't go to my mamma--I'll meet you, bye and bye, at the Colonel's.

[_Apart to TALLYHO._

_Sir J. B._ You won't--you shall, hussy!

_Miss Dolly B._ I won't--I won't--[_Crying and sobbing._] Oh, the cruelty of old tough fathers, to force young, tender maidens, away from the sweet, amiable swains, that so dearly love them! oh! oh! oh!

_Sir J. B._ Go in there, you jade! [_Forces her off._] how cunning you look now, Tally, my lad!

[_Exeunt MISS BULL and SIR JOHN._

_Tall._ Don't force her away from her beautiful swain--[_Looks disappointed, and whistles._] So, here's a pretty commence! but if Doll meets me at the Colonel's, I'll whip her off; and if Captain Henry has laid the betts upon my slang match, I shall roll in rhino--first, marry Doll, in private--then, London--hey for a wedding, in full cry, and, then for the dear delights of London!

AIR.--TALLYHO.

_In London, my life is a ring of delight;
In frolics, I keep up the day and the night,
I snooze at the Hummums till twelve, perhaps later;
I rattle the bell, and I roar up the waiter;
"Your honour," says he, and he tips me a leg;
He brings me my tea, but I swallow an egg;
For tea in a morning's a slop I renounce,
So I down with a glass of the right cherry bounce.
With swearing--tearing!
Ranting--jaunting!
Slashing--smashing!
Smacking--cracking!
Rumbling--tumbling!
Laughing--quaffing!
Smoking--joking!
Swagg'ring--stagg'ring!
So thoughtless, so knowing, so green, and so mellow!
This--this is the life of a frolicsome fellow._

_My phaeton I mount, and the plebs they all stare,
I handle my reins, and my elbows I square;
My ponies so plump, and as white as a lily!
Through Pallmall I spank it, and up Piccadilly;
Till, losing a wheel, egad, down I come, smack!
So, at Knightsbridge, I throw myself into a hack,
At Tattersal's, fling a leg over my nag;
Then visit for dinner, then dress in a bag.
With swearing, &c._