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._

ACT THE THIRD.