SCENE III.

_An Apartment in the COLONEL'S Lodge._

_Enter COLONEL EPAULETTE and MISS DOLLY BULL._

_Colonel E._ Miss, I do congratulate my felicity in meeting of you.

_Miss Dolly B._ I'm sure, I'm much obliged to you, indeed, Colonel.

_Colonel E._ [_Aside._] If I could get her, instead of my fille de opera, I should be up vid her fader, for calling me a tailor.

_Miss Dolly B._ [_Aside, looking out._] Lord, I wonder what keeps Squire Tallyho!

_Colonel E._ Miss, vas you ever in love?

_Miss Dolly B._ Not above nine times, I thank you, sir.

[_Courtesies._

_Colonel E._ Hey!

_Miss Dolly B._ Nine! Yes, three times before I got out of my slips--twice at Hackney boarding school--I don't reckon my guitar-master--then Frank Frippery--Mr. Pettitoe--No, sir, only eight, for I never would listen to the handsome staymaker, of Duck Lane.

_Colonel E._ Miss, vill you be in love de ninth time, and run avay vid me?

_Miss Dolly B._ Lord, sir, are you going to run away?

_Colonel E._ Oui, I vill scamper off vid you.

_Miss Dolly B._ Oh, now I understand you--but why scamper off, sir, when I'm sure mamma would consent?

_Colonel E._ Oui, consent--but dat is so mechanique!--

_Miss Dolly B._ True, sir, it does sound of Bow bell; and, as you say, scampering off is such a funny thing, he! he! he!--[_Aside._] Ecod, I've a great mind, if I should, how Squire Tallyho would be surprised!

_Colonel E._ Allons, ma chere.

[_Going._

_Miss Dolly B._ Stop, will you excuse me afterwards to Squire Tallyho?

_Colonel E._ For vat?

_Miss Dolly B._ Because I promised to run away with him.

_Colonel E._ Indeed!

_Miss Dolly B._ Yes, but don't tell mamma--Sure, 'twas for that I came here to meet him.

_Colonel E._ Yes, but here I come first.

_Miss Dolly B. True_, sir, and first come, first served, as pa used to say, in the shop at home--he! he! he!

_Colonel E._ Come, then, my dearest angel!--Aha--Stay, mademoiselle, I vill order my gentilhomme to pack up some poudre, and pomade, and my dancing pump, as von cannot tell vat may happen--den, hey for love and pleasure!

[_Exit._

_Miss Dolly B._ [_Calling after him._] Colonel, make haste!

_Tall._ [_Without._] Halloo, Doll! hip, my dainty Dolly!

_Miss Dolly B._ Squire Tallyho!--Oh, dear, what shall I do?

_Enter TALLYHO._

_Tall._ Well, Doll, are you ready, my sweet Gosling?--I've got a fine rosy, drunken friar here--but, when I get you over into Yorkshire, we'll be married over again--you remember my chaplain, honest Parson Thump?

_Miss Dolly B._ Lord, Squire, don't tell me of Parson Thump--what kept you so long?--here have I been crying my eyes out for you.

_Tall._ Crying--fudge--show--why, your eyes do look as if---Ah, come now, you've an onion in your handkerchief?

_Miss Dolly B._ No, indeed, as I hope for--he! he! he!

_Tall._ Now, now, there--now, what's that for?

_Miss Dolly B._ I was laughing, to think of our marriage.

_Tall._ I begin to think, marriage is no laughing matter, Doll--now, I tell you truly, I like you as well as any thing I ever saw--Good points--fancy, thirteen hands high, and, by my lady's account, rising nineteen years last grass--but I tell you some things you must learn, to be my wife.--My mother, you must know, was a fine lady, all upon the hoity-toities, and so, good for nothing--Says father to me, one evening, as the last whiff of his fourth pipe sighed to the tears of the third tankard--Gaby, my dear boy, never marry a woman that can't breakfast on beef--carve a goose--won't withdraw from table, before "King and constitution," and sing a jolly song at first bidding--and then, says he, [_Snores._] take care o'the girls, Gaby--and dropping asleep--yes, father, says I, I'll take care o'the girls--and with that, I slipped a brace of yellow boys out of his purse, and, next day, bought Peggy Trundle, the housemaid, a pair of Bath garters, silver shoe-buckles, and a marquisate pin, for her stomacher, he! he! he!

_Miss Dolly B._ I shouldn't ha' thought of your entertaining me with your old father's pipe, and Peggy Trundle's stomachers--if you're come here to run away with me, why, do the thing at once, and let's have no more talk about it.

_Tall._ True, Doll, such a fortune as yours, don't offer every day--I've a chaise at the door, and a sulky for Father Dominic, and, as your dad may be for pursuing us, I won't depend upon those rascally French postboys--it's all crack, smack, jabber, grin, and bustle--great noise, and little work, with them--No, no, I'll put on a jacket and great boots--a good disguise too--I'll drive you myself, gee up, my queen--you'll see how we'll tatter the road--do it there, whipcord--shave the signpost--Ah, softly up hill, good Bully--bit of hay to cool their mouths--pint o' twopenny, and a new lash--then, spank the Unicorn slapdash--Gee up--once we're coupled, let Sir John come whistle for you--Gee up--Ah, Button--do it there--softly, my honies--gee-ah! ha!

[_Imitating._

[_Exit._

_Miss Dolly B._ Upon my word, this is clever--so, a gentleman can't go to be married, without his great boots! and t'other youth couldn't go without his dancing pumps--Ecod, if one of my old sweethearts was to step in now, I am so vexed, I should be strongly tempted to give them both the double.

_Lackland._ [_Without._] Oh, the lady's this way.

_Miss Dolly B._ Who have we now? I protest, the sprightly, elegant gentleman, that sent papa for his snuff box--he's a vastly pretty fellow!

_Enter LACKLAND._

_Lack._ At last I have found her--I hate courtship--no occasion here, I fancy--so sans ceremonie--here goes--[_Aside._] Ma'am, your most obedient--

_Miss Dolly B._ How d'ye do, sir?

[_A short Courtesy._

_Lack._ Well, my dear, 'tis at last settled--

_Miss Dolly B._ Sir!

_Lack._ Yes, though with some difficulty; I am now determined to marry you.

_Miss Dolly B._ Marry me!

_Lack._ A fact--but don't let your joy carry you away.

_Miss Dolly B._ You'll carry me away!

_Lack._ I said I would, and I never break my word.

_Miss Dolly B._ Said! to who, pray?

_Lack._ To myself--and you know, if a gentleman breaks his word to himself, what dependence can the world have on him--You're a fine creature--but I would not tell a lie for all the women in France.

_Miss Dolly B._ [_Aside._] What a high notion of honour!--a much handsomer man too, than either Tallyho, or the colonel--Ecod, he's a charming, flashy beau!--I have a great mind----

_Lack._ [_Aside._] Just as I thought--of fifty lovers with this young lady, I see, the last is the most welcome.

_Miss Dolly B._ I vow, I've a mind--but pa says you've no money.

_Lack._ Me! no money! pleasant enough that, 'faith, ha! ha! ha!--why, he might as well say I borrowed a guinea from him.

_Miss Dolly B._ Ecod, now I remember, he did say it too.

_Lack._ Oh, well, he was right--Why, what an old lying--but--he's your father, therefore let it be so, ha! ha! well, I have no money--[_With pretended Irony._] I am the poorest dog in nature, ha! ha! ha! Well, that is very good, 'faith--such a joke----

_Miss Dolly B._ Joke? lord, I knew it was--I thought you must have been very rich, by your fine clothes.

_Lack._ Clothes--oh, I've only borrowed them from somebody, or other, you know--where could I get money to buy such clothes as these, ha! ha! ha!--well, this is excellent, ha! ha! ha!

_Miss Dolly B._ Ha! ha! ha! I knew you must have a great estate.

_Lack._ Me!--Oh, I haven't an acre, nor, may be, a mansion in Herefordshire--nor, perhaps, I haven't a house in Portman Square.

_Miss Dolly B._ Portman Square!

_Lack._ Without a guinea in the funds--perhaps, at this moment, I haven't half a crown in the world, I'm such a miserable dog, ha! ha! ha!

_Miss Dolly B._ Ha! ha! ha! Estate in Herefordshire!--Oh, Lud! then we can make, at least--ay, twenty hogsheads of cyder.

_Lack._ Make cyder--hem! Oh, you elegant----[_Aside._] Garlick Hill!

_Miss Dolly B._ I've a monstrous mind--Now answer me one question, that's all--If I should consent to run off with you, would you leave me standing here, for great travelling boots, or your dancing pumps?

_Lack._ Me! Not for the Pigot diamond!

_Miss Dolly B._ No?--come along.

_Lack._ Where?

_Miss Dolly B._ Lord, don't you know?

_Lack._ If we had but a chaise, and a priest--

_Miss Dolly B._ One's in the house, and t'other's at the door below.

_Lack._ Indeed! My dear, you're young, and frank--I throw myself, and all my fortune, at your feet, in spite of figs, raisins, canvass sleeves, and moist sugar--Oh, you amazing fine creature!

_Miss Dolly B._ Oh, you astonishing charming man!

[_Exeunt._

_Enter COLONEL EPAULETTE, speaks as entering._

_Colonel E._ All is ready--Allons, ma chere mademoiselle.

_Enter TALLYHO, in French Boots, &c. speaks as entering._

_Tall._ Well, Doll, here I am, booted and pistoled--[_Looks about._] How!

_Colonel E._ Aha! de lady is gone.

_Tall._ Ay, where is she gone?

_Colonel E._ Oui, vere have you put her?

_Tall._ [_Resolutely._] Yes, tell me what you have done with her.

_Colonel E._ Moi?--I did leave her here.

_Tall._ You mean, you found her here, master poacher.

_Enter SIR JOHN BULL._

_Tall._ So, there, you wouldn't give your daughter to an honest Englishman, and now, she's whipped up by a poaching Frenchman!--I give you joy of your son-in-law, my old nag, ha! ha! ha!

_Sir J. B._ [_To COLONEL E._] Where is Doll?

_Colonel E._ Ask dat gentleman dat did stole her.

_Sir J. B._ Hearkye, you Yorkshire bite, you sha'n't rob me of my child.

_Tall._ What, the devil, are you mad, old Holofernes! It's that there greyhound has whipped up little puss.

_Sir J. B._ I believe it.

_Colonel E._ Diable m'emporte--Zounds--Splutter and oons--it is no such ting.

_Tall._ It is.

_Colonel E._ It is not--You are as wrong in dis, as when you took me for a taileur.

_Sir J. B._ Where have you hid my child? restore her, or, I'll Cressy and Agincourt you--I'll be a Black Prince to you. Why, Dolly Bull!

[_Calling.--Exit._

_Colonel E._ Nay, but, Sir John----

_Tall._ I am so vexed and perplexed--Oh, if I had you at Dover, I'd fight you--ay, with a pair of queen Anne's pocket pistols.

_Colonel E._ Monsieur, any thing to oblige you--I vil fight, or let it alone--all von to me--ma foi! Who's there? [_Calls._] Hey! Le Fleche, Justine!--

[_Exit._

_Tall._ Oho! since I find I am jockeyed in this match, I must look sharp to my other matches--See what Captain Henry has been about--This French pony is now in his own stall, and let him stay there--A silly tit! to prefer monsieur, to such a tight lad as I!--but if I get once back to dear London, with a fob full of French gold, see, if I let the finest lady in the land fetter my gamarets.