SCENE I.

_A Town.--Sign on one Side, the Lily of France, on the other, the British Lion._

_Bells ring.--Enter MRS. CASEY and First WAITER._

_Mrs. Casey._ Come, Bob, what are you about, boy? The company tumble in upon us like smoke; quick, all the cooks at work, do you hear me now?

[_Bell rings._

_1 Waiter._ Yes, ma'am. Coming, coming.

[_Exit._

_Lackland._ [_Within._] You scoundrel, I'll teach you to talk to a gentleman!

_2 Waiter._ [_Within._] Oh, very well, very well, sir.

_Mrs. Casey._ Hey day!

_Enter Second WAITER, stumbling in._

What's the matter now?

_2 Waiter._ Only Mr. Lackland, ma'am; you know you ordered me to keep the Globe for the large company; there, he takes possession of it; and though I told him it was bespoke, he would dine no where else:--orders a bottle of champagne, and because I didn't fly with it, kicked me down stairs, though I cried coming up, sir.

_Mrs. Casey._ Champagne, and not a Louis in his pocket!--d'ye hear, tell Mr. Lackland, it's my desire he'll quit my house.

_2 Waiter._ Your desire! Ecod, ma'am, he said he'd make you bounce.

_Mrs. Casey._ Make me bounce! A shabby, spunging----though without a second coat, the fellow's as proud as a Galway merchant.--Make me bounce in my own house!--pretty well, that, upon my honour!

_Lack._ [_Within._] What! house!

_Mrs. Casey._ Run, don't you hear?

_Lack._ [_Within._] Where is that infernal----

_2 Waiter._ Infernal! that's you, ma'am, he's calling.

_Mrs. Casey._ Hush! here he is. [_Exit Second WAITER._] Because I'm a lone woman, he thinks to impose upon the house.

_Enter LACKLAND._

_Lack._ Landlady, your attendance is shameful!

_Mrs. Casey._ Why, the truth is, sir, my waiters have enough to do if they properly attend on folks who have money to pay for what they call for.

[_Takes out her Snuff Box._

_Lack._ [_Takes a Pinch._] And even your snuff, is execrable!

_Mrs. Casey._ Lookye, Mr. Lackland, that you're a gentleman every body knows; and you've a good estate, only it's all gone; and you're allowed to be a six bottle man, and a choice companion. Ah! the beginning of a good song at the latter end of a bottle is a capital thing for a house--Now, here, during the race time, I'll give you your board at the table d'hote, and money in your pocket to pay the reckoning, if you'll only be a good jolly fellow, and encourage the company to drink, by a funny song, or a comical story.

_Lack._ What! live by entertaining a company?

_Mrs. Casey._ Yes; that's what I call earning your bread like a gentleman.

_Lack._ Make me your decoy-duck? Mrs. Casey, you're a widow, you'll oblige me if you'll marry somebody immediately.

_Mrs. Casey._ And why so, pray?

_Lack._ Madam, that I might have the superlative honour of twisting your husband by the nose.

[_Bows gravely._

_Mrs. Casey._ Well, upon my honour, you're a very mannerly fellow! but I wish I had a husband, for your sake--Oh, I wish I had a husband!

_Enter GAGGER._

_Gag._ Madam, there's a Paris chaise stopped, and the master of the Lily of France has got hold of them already.

_Mrs. Casey._ Then he shall soon quit his hold, that he shall, as sure as my name is Casey.--Bob, do you go and try to bring them this way, and I'll go see the rooms prepared myself. [_Goes to the Door._] Ah, my dearee, I wish I had a husband!

[_Exeunt MRS. CASEY and GAGGER._

_Lack._ [_Looking._] An English officer.

[_Retires._

_Enter HENRY and FRENCH POSTBOY._

_Henry._ There--[_Throws Money into the BOY'S Hat, who is discontented._] never satisfied!

_Postb._ Monsieur, c'est tout poste royale, de Paris jusqu'a Fontainbleau.

_Henry._ Oh, double postage for the horses! Ay, ay, if we approach a mansion of the grand monarque, we must pay for it.--Seven posts.

[_Gives more Money._

[_Exit POSTBOY._

_Lack._ [_Comes forward._] By Heaven, my old college chum, Harry Seymour!

_Henry._ Pray, friend, can you direct me to the best--[_Stops, and looks attentively on LACKLAND._] Is it possible? but I heard something of this--Can you be Charles Lackland?

_Lack._ How d'ye do, Harry?

_Henry._ My poor fellow! [_With Concern._] But how has all this come about?

_Lack._ Eh?

_Henry._ I feel for you, sincerely!

_Lack._ What d'ye mean? Oh, my--[_Looking at his Clothes._] Pshaw! never mind a man's outside; I've a heart within, equally warm to an old friend, in snow, or sunshine.

_Henry._ That I have passed so many happy, happy days with!

_Lack._ Have--ay, and will again.

_Henry._ All gone?--Play, I suppose?

_Lack._ Ay, my dear fellow! play, and pleasure, and--but what the devil, musty melancholy! Come to sport here at the races, eh? flush?

_Henry._ Why, 'faith, Lackland, as to cash, my affairs, at present, are little better than your own.

_Lack._ Ahem! Egad, that's rather unlucky for us both.

_Henry._ But my mind, my dear Charles! I am this moment the most unhappy--in a word, you see me here an exile, fled from the hands of justice!--You remember my sister Rosa?

_Lack._ What, little romping Rose, that used to steal our fish, and throw our cards in the fire? Eh, did I dream, or wasn't there a match talked of, between her and Lord Winlove?

_Henry._ All over, my dear Lackland! guided only by the weakness of her sex, and the art of ours, she was prevailed on by Lord Winlove to take the road to the Continent; I overtook them at Rochester, demanded reparation of my sister's character by an instant marriage--I was violent--my lord's pride, hurt at a charge, which, perhaps, he did not deserve--a pistol was the umpire--he lost his life, and, in apprehension that a verdict might endanger mine, I was compelled to assume the disguise of a woman, to effect my escape.

_Lack._ Bravo! shot a lord! I wing'd a marquis yesterday--poor Rosa! where is she now?

_Henry._ I have lodged her in the convent of Villeneuve.

_Lack._ And have taken the races of Fontainbleau in your way back to Paris?

_Henry._ I'll tell you frankly, though you'll say, rather inconsistent with my present situation; I'm drawn hither purely by the hopes of meeting an amiable young lady, who engaged my conversation at the Sunday opera, in Paris.

_Lack._ Her name?--Good family, eh?

_Henry._ I'm a total stranger to both--talks of her brother's having horses to run, and of their intention of being there at the races.

_Lepoche._ [_Without._] Je n'y manquerai pas.

_Lack._ [_Aside._] This cursed tailor! now I shall be dunned and pestered!

_Enter LAPOCHE._

_Lap._ Monsieur Lackland, I ville no longer vait for my----

_Lack._ [_Apart to him._] Hush! I'll make your fortune--A customer, rolling in money. Captain, if you're unprovided with neat lodgings, and a good tailor, here's your man, and there's his house.

_Lap._ Oh, de new customer! bon--speak de goot vort for me.

_Lack._ He has good apartments.

_Lap._ Oh, very goot--Speake more.

_Lack._ I will. [_To LAPOCHE._] This ill-looking little rascal--

[_To HENRY._

_Lap._ Much oblige to you.

_Lack._ [_Apart to HENRY._] If you are slack in cash, [_Loud._] you'll find his lodgings convenient.

_Lap._ Very convenient, because----

_Lack._ [_Apart._] Because when he asks for his money, you may kick him down stairs.

_Lap._ Much oblige to you, sir.

[_Bows to LACKLAND._

_Lack._ [_Apart._] My way of doing things. [_Loud._] Wasn't I a good customer, Lapoche?

_Lap._ Oui, it does a tradesman's heart goot to see you--[_Aside._]--outside of his door.

_Lack._ I paid you eight livres a week, wasn't it?

_Lap._ Oui, monsieur, you did--[_Aside._]--promise me dat.

_Lack._ [_Looking._] Ladies! Must attend where beauty calls--[_Pulls down his Ruffles._] My dear Henry, at your time, I am yours; from a beef steak to a bottle of burgundy--can't stay now--you know I was always a Philander among the ladies.

[_Exit._

_Lap._ Always great gander among the ladies.

_Henry._ Poor Lackland!

_Lap._ Lately from Londres, monsieur? I was vonce great man in Londres; but now I am anoder man.

_Henry._ Another man! what, then, my motley friend, I suppose you have a character for every country?

_Lap._ Oui, I have appear in many character, but Londres vas my grand theatre--Ah! England is de great field of battle for us soldiers of fortune; and ven I could no longer fight my vay----

_Henry._ Why, then you----

_Lap._ Oui, I ran avay. Ah, monsieur! in England, I vas high, and I vas low--I vas dit, and I vas dat:--I vas cook, parfumeur, maitre de langue, juggle, and toos drawer--in short I vas every ting.

_Henry._ And pray, my good friend, what are you now?

_Lap._ I am now myself, in my true charactere--A tailor, a votre service.

_Henry._ A tailor! what, and come here to the races of Fontainbleau, to sport your Louis d'ors upon the jockeys of France?

_Lap._ Non, monsieur, but I am come here to sport de pretty jacket upon de jockeys of France. Ah! I vill show so fine de green jockey, de blue jockey, and de red jockey!--dey may talk of vip and spur, but de beauty of de race come from my shear and timble.

_Henry._ Pray, which is your best hotel here?

_Lap._ Hotel! Ah, monsieur, vy no lodge in my house? So convenient for de single gentilhomme!--[_Aside._] I will not tell him of de lady, my lodger, because I love her myself.

_Henry._ Well, I don't know but private lodgings, at this time, may be preferable to the noise and bustle of an hotel.

_Lap._ Eh bien, monsieur, vill you look at my lodgment?

_Henry._ With all my heart.

_Lap._ Je vous attend.--[_Calls._] Nannette!--And if you like them, you may send your baggage and little ting after you.--Nannette! prepare for de new lodger.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter GAGGER, and MRS. CASEY, from Tavern._

_Gag._ This way, Sir John--this way, your honour! Madam, it's Sir John Bull, and Lady Bull, and Miss Bull, and all the family.

_Sir John._ [_Without._] I wish, my Lady Bull, you'd let Robin have rolled us up to the door.

_Mrs. Casey._ Ha! upon my honour, it is Sir John Bull and his lady--this is the truth of an English family.

_Enter SIR JOHN and LADY BULL, FRENCH INN-KEEPER, Four FRENCH PORTERS, with small Bandboxes, &c._

_Mrs. Casey._ Sir John, you are welcome from Paris.

_Sir J. B._ Welcome from Paris! [_Mimicking._]---Where the devil are you taking us? Such a way, to walk over your damned pavement!

_Lady B._ Oh fie, Sir John! Do you consider where you are? When English gentlemen come to France, they should leave their dammes at Dover.

_Sir J. B._ I wish I had left you, or myself there, damme!--what are these fellows doing with the things?

_Lady B._ Don't you see, the gentlemen are porters, Sir John?

_Sir J. B._ Porters! pickpockets--paid by the ounce: One Thames Street porter, would take the whole seven and their bundles on his knot; here's a proof--

_Enter ROBIN, with a very large Trunk._

My trunk, Robin?

_Rob._ Yes, your honour; four of the monsieurs trying to carry it, dropped it in the dirt, yonder.

[_Puts it down._

_Lady B._ Robin, you must immediately find Colonel Epaulette's lodge, and let him know we are arrived.

_Sir J. B._ Yes, when you've taken care of the trunks:--and, d'ye hear, Robin, you'll find Squire Tally-ho there, tell him that I'm come, and that Dolly's longing to see him. [_Exit ROBIN._] But where is she?

_Lady B._ Ay, where's Dolly Bull?

_Enter MISS DOLLY BULL._

_Miss Dolly B._ Here I am, mamma. [_To MRS. CASEY._] Ma'am, pray which is the inn?

_Lady B._ Inn! Hotel, miss, if you please.

_Miss Dolly B._ Miss! Mademoiselle, if you please, ma'am.

_Sir John B._ Aha! well said Dolly--there was French upon French.

_Lady B._ Dear sir, which is the hotel?

[_To FRENCH INNKEEPER._

_Sir J. B._ How cursed polite, to a waiter too! only because he's French.

[_Aside._

_French Innk._ Dis vay, mademoiselle--I keep de Lily of France.

[_Bowing._

_Sir J. B._ Let's in, I'm plaguy hungry.

_French Innk._ Ah, monsieur, de nice Vermecelle-soup, de bon ragout, and de grande salade.

_Sir J. B._ Ragouts! Pshaw!

_Mrs. Casey._ D'ye hear, George, carry that big piece of roast beef up to the Lion.

_Sir J. B._ [_Goes to her._] Ay, and carry me up to the Lion, I like to dine in good company:--Who are you madam?

_Mrs. Casey._ I'm Mrs. Casey, at your service, sir; and I keep this house, the Lion of England.

_Sir J. B._ And are you English?

_Mrs. Casey._ Yes, that I am, born in Dublin; an honest Irish woman, upon my honour.

AIR.--MRS. CASEY.

_The British Lion is my sign, A roaring trade I drive on, Right English usage, neat French wine, A landlady must thrive on. At table d'hote, to eat and drink, Let French and English mingle, And while to me they bring the chink, 'Faith, let the glasses jingle._

_Your rhino rattle, Come men and cattle. Come all to Mrs. Casey. Of trouble and money, My jewel, my honey! I warrant, I'll make you easy._

_Let love fly here on silken wings, His tricks I shall connive at; The lover, who would say soft things, Shall have a room in private: On pleasures I am pleas'd to wink, So lips and kisses mingle, For, while to me, they bring the chink, 'Faith, let the glasses jingle, Your rhino rattle, &c._

_Sir J. B._ Bravo, Mrs. Casey!--introduce me to your roast beef.

[_Exeunt LADY BULL, DOLLY, and PORTERS._

_Enter LACKLAND._

_Lack._ Sir John Bull, I think they call him, from the city--[_Aside._] Monsieur, Je vous veux parler--

_Sir J. B._ Don't vow parley me, I am English.

_Lack._ You are?--Your pardon, I see it in your honest face.

_Sir J. B._ Well, what have you to say to my honest face?

_Lack._ Say? me!--Damme, if I have any thing to say--but, only--how d'ye do?

_Sir J. B._ Why, pretty well; how are you?--A damned impudent fellow!

[_Aside._

_Lack._ And how have you left all friends in a--a--a--Throgmorton Street?

_Sir J. B._ Throgmorton Street!

_Lack._ That is--I mean--You're come to Fontainbleau, and just arrived:--my heart warmed at the sight of my countryman, for I'm English too,--a little unfortunate, but----

_Sir J. B._ You're poor, eh?

_Lack._ Why, sir,--I have had money--

_Sir J. B._ And what did you do with it?

_Lack._ Sir, I laid it out in experience.

_Sir J. B._ Oh! then, I suppose, now, you're a very cunning fellow.

_Lack._ I know the world, sir--I have had rent rolls, lands, tenements, hereditaments, mansions, arables, pastures, streams, stewards, beasts, tenants, quarter-days, and such other incumbrances.

_Sir J. B._ What, and you've got rid of them all?

_Lack._ Oh, yes.

_Sir J. B._ You're a devilish clever fellow:--but couldn't you have got your teeth drawn at the same time?--I suppose, now, you've little use for them.

_Lack._ Ha! ha! ha! very clever--smart and clever!--Oh, you vile dog! [_Aside._] As you're English, I feel an attachment;--harkye--a damned sharping place, this--you may profit by my advice; avoid strangers, particularly our own countrymen;--all upon the sharp--they'll introduce themselves, intrude their conversation, amuse you with some flam of their families, and spending fortunes, and losses; and the story generally ends in borrowing money from you, that is, if you are fool enough to lend it.--Now, my dear sir, 'tis my pleasure to warn a gentleman, like you, of the tricks and deceptions, of these sort of fellows.

_Sir J. B._ I'm very much obliged to you--give me your hand--will you eat a bit of mutton with us?

_Lack._ Sir, I should be proud of the honour, but something awkward--this dishabille!--and as I understand you have ladies, you know, they expect a man--the fellow here over the way, detains a handsome suit of mine, only for--sir, if you could oblige me with a guinea, I should repay you with many thanks.

_Sir J. B._ What, when the arables come back!--A guinea--well, I don't mind as far as--distress in a strange country, is--what's your name?

_Lack._ Lackland, at your service.

_Sir J. B._ A guinea, you say--there, Mr. Lackland----

[_Gives a Guinea._

_Lack._ Sir, I am eternally obliged to you.--I fancy I may pass in these clothes, eh?

_Sir J. B._ Yes, yes, you may pass--[_Aside._]--for a shoplifter.

_Lack._ Waiter! [_Calling._]--If you'll give me leave, I'll treat you with a flask of most excellent champagne.

[_Goes to Tavern._

_Sir J. B._ Treat with champagne! my own money too!--champagne! and I doubt if the fellow has got a shirt to his ruffles.

_Lack._ Upon my soul, you're a very fine old gentleman!--mind my advice--I warn you against our countrymen--they'll only borrow your money, and laugh at you after!--Ha! ha! ha!

_Sir J. B._ Ha! ha! ha! So they'll laugh at me after! Ha! ha! ha!

_Lack._ Now you know their tricks; mind you keep your hand on your cash.

_Sir J. B._ Yes, yes; the moment they talk of Throgmorton Street, you may be sure I will, ha! ha! ha!

_Lack._ Ha! ha! ha! very well--Ha! ha! ha!--Bless your jolly face, how a laugh becomes it! Ha! ha! ha!

_Sir J. B._ My jolly face!--good--Ha! ha! ha!

_Lack._ Ha! ha! ha! I'm thinking how surprised you'll be, when I pay you this guinea to-morrow!

_Sir J. B._ I shall be surprised, indeed!

_Lack._ Ay, I have bought my experience by wholesale.

_Sir J. B._ Yes, and you now retail it out at a guinea a dose.

_Lack._ My dear sir, I shall always acknowledge myself your debtor.

_Sir J. B._ I dare say you will.

_Enter second WAITER._

_Lack._ Show a room, scoundrel! and change for a guinea.

[_Exeunt, laughing._