SCENE I.

_Town._

_Enter FIRST WAITER._

_1 Waiter._ Here, you, George!--I say, George!

_Enter SECOND WAITER._

_2 Waiter._ What the deuce a bawling do you keep!

_1 Waiter._ What d'ye mean running about the streets, with your hands in your pockets, at such a time, and the house full of company, and----

_2 Waiter._ Why, didn't mistress desire me to look for Captain Huff, in order to see if he could bully this here Mr. Lackland out of the house; as there's no chance of his ever being able to pay his bill here?

_1 Waiter._ Bully him out! I don't think the captain and his whole regiment can do that.

_LACKLAND and MRS. CASEY without._

_Mrs. Casey._ Mr. Lackland, I desire you'll leave my house.

_2 Waiter._ See, what a woman's tongue can do!--here he comes, and my mistress at his heels.

_Lack._ Upon my honour, Mrs. Casey, I'm amazed that any gentleman would enter your doors!

_Mrs. Casey._ Upon my honour, Mr. Lackland, you may take yourself out of my doors!

_1 Waiter._ She's done it--here comes the poor beau!

_Enter LACKLAND and MRS. CASEY._

_Mrs. Casey._ Why, I tell you, Sir Harry Bisque's valet has locked up all his master's baggage in it, and you can have that chamber no more.

_Lack._ I'll ruin your house--no more carriages--I'll bring no more coronets about your doors, to inquire after me, madam--by Heaven, I'll ruin your house!

_Mrs. Casey._ Ay, my house may be ruined, indeed, if I haven't money to pay my wine merchant. I'll tell you what, my honest lad, I've no notion of folks striving to keep up the gentleman, when they cannot support it; and when people are young and strong, can't see any disgrace in taking up a brown musket, or the end of a sedan chair, or--a knot--[_Looking at his Shoulders._] any thing better than bilking me, or spunging upon my customers, and flashing it away in their old clothes.

_Lack._ See when you'll get such a customer as I was! Haven't I left the mark of a dice box upon every table?--was there a morning I didn't take a sandwich? or a day passed, without my drinking my four bottles?

_Mrs Casey._ Four bottles! But how many did you pay for?

_Lack._ Never mind that, that's my affair--By Heaven, madam, I'll ruin your house!--d'ye hear? [_Calling._] Carry my baggage over to the Lily.

_Mrs. Casey._ Ay, take his baggage upon a china plate, for it's a nice affair.

_Lack._ Hey, my baggage!

[_Calling._

_Mrs. Casey._ Ah, man, what signifies your conceit?--such a bashaw! here you come and call, like a lord, and drink like a lord, and there you are in my books six whole pages, without a scratch, like a lord Ogh, you've run up a thumping bill, and, I warrant, you'll pay it like a lord.

[_Courtesies ironically._

_Lack._ That I shall, ma'am; produce your bill.

[_Takes out a Purse, and chinks it._

_Mrs. Casey._ Oh, miracles will never cease--well, I said all along, that your honour was a prince.

[_Courtesies._

_Lack._ Madam, my bill!

_Mrs. Casey._ Lord, your honour, what need your honour mind the bill now? sure your honour may pay it any time.

[_Courtesies._

_Lack._ Very true, Mrs. Casey, so I can.

[_Puts up the Purse._

_Mrs. Casey._ But, however, since your honour insists upon paying it now, you shall see it--Here, Bob! [_Calling._] Squire Lackland's bill--then Heavens save your handsome face, and your handsome hand, and your handsome leg--pretend to be without money!--Oh dear, how jokish these gentlemen are!--Here, Bob, Squire Lackland's bill--quick, quick!

[_Exit MRS. CASEY and SERVANTS._

_Lack._ I am sure, I'm vastly obliged to Colonel Epaulette, for this recruit of finance, if 'twas only to rescue me from this Irish harpy--Come, I do very well--Oh, lucky, lucky cards!--after paying her bill, I shall have as much as will set me up at the faro bank--Dem it, I mustn't--cannot think of this grocer's daughter--vile city bulls and bears--no, no, Tallyho may have her--Oh, here he comes!

_Enter TALLYHO, crossing quick, and singing._

Oh, Tallyho!

_Tall._ Couldn't stop to speak to a duke--not even a clerk of the course.

_Lack._ I'll bet you fifty guineas, you stop with me though.

_Tall._ But my little doe Doll waits for me at Colonel Epaulette's--a word--she's going off with me--so I must leave my match in the hands of my jockeys--Soho, puss!

[_Going._

_Lack._ A word.

_Tall._ What the devil, d'ye think people of business can stand gabbling--lose time with people that's got no money--this is a place of sport, and those that can't----

_Lack._ What d'ye mean, sir--gabbling!--Can't sport!--Sir, I have spirit, and ability--

[_Shows the Purse._

_Tall._ Spunk and rhino!

_Lack._ Gabble--can't sport--there--[_Gives him the Purse, and takes out a Pack of Cards._] the highest card against that, if you dare--Can't sport!--You shall find me spunk.

_Tall._ You're spunk--tol de rol lol--At you, my merry harrier.

_Lack._ [_Cutting the Cards._] Trey.

_Tall._ [_Cutting._] His nob.--I have won!

[_Mimicking LACKLAND, and puts up the Purse._

_Lack._ Damnation! [_TALLYHO sings, going._] Tallyho, you'll never miss it--return me the purse.

_Tall._ The purse--to be sure, my dear boy, you shall have it--there's the purse.

[_Takes out the Money, and throws him the empty Purse._

Sings.] "_Then he leap'd over Lord Anglis's Wall, And seem'd to say, little I value you all._"

[Exit, singing.

_Lack._ Perdition seize cards, dice--every cursed tool of fortune--that infernal--blind--partial hag! Oh here comes Mrs. Casey, with her sedan chair, and brown musket, upon me--what--what shall I do?

_Enter MRS. CASEY, WAITERS, BOOTS, COOK, &c._

_Mrs. Casey._ Here, your honour--here's your honour's bill--Bob has drawn it out fairly--

_Lack._ Damn you and Bob!

_Mrs. Casey._ What d'ye say, honey?

_Lack._ What, do you think a gentleman has nothing else to do, but to encumber his pockets, and to carry about lumps of cursed, heavy gold, when you and Bob take a fancy to thrust long scrawl papers into his hand?

_Mrs. Casey._ Why, didn't you desire me to get your bill? and hadn't you your purse out just now to pay me?

_Lack._ There, you see my purse out just now, but nothing in that.

_Mrs. Casey._ Well, upon my honour, this is a pretty caper!--all because I'm a lone woman--I see there's no doing without a bit of a man after all.

_Lack._ Well, I find marriage is the dernier resort after all.

_1 Waiter._ Your honour will remember the waiters?

_Cook._ The cook, your honour?

_Boots._ Your honour won't forget Jack Boots?

_Lack._ Jack Boots too!--Scoundrels--saucy--impertinent--insolent----

[_Drives off WAITER, COOK, &c._

_Enter LEPOCHE._

_Lep._ Monsieur Lackland, I hear you have hooked up some cash; so, before it's all gone, pay me my money.

_Lack._ You too!--you little infernal miscreant, I'll pay you!

[_Beats him._

_Lep._ Ah misericorde! Ah pauvre moi!

[_Exit._

_Lack._ In spite of figs, raisins, canvass sleeves, and moist sugar, have at Miss Bull, of Garlick Hill, and her fourscore thousand!

[_Exit._

_Enter LEPOCHE, peeping._

_Lep._ Vat, is he gone? [_Softly._]'Tis vell for him he is gone; Monsieur Lackland, you be von damned scoundrel, villain of de rogue--rascal! [_Vaunting._] and I voud break your----

_Enter ROBIN, from MRS. CASEY'S House._

_Robin._ I say, master--

_Lep._ [_Starts, much frightened._] Heigho! Oh, if it had been Monsieur Lackland, how I voud--hem!--vat you vant, Monsieur?

[_Imperiously._

_Robin._ What do I want? I want you, if you're the French tailor.

_Lep._ Oh, I must not affront my customer--[_Aside._] Vel, sir, I be de taileur, a votre service.

[_Bows._

_Robin._ Then, my master, Sir John Bull, is ever so impatient for you.

_Lep._ Oh, Sir John Bull--Ah, to take measure of him, for de new clothes--malpeste! I ave as much business as de grand financier.

_Robin._ Will you come?

_Lep._ Aprez vous, monsieur.

_Robin._ What?

_Lep._ After you, monsieur.

_Robin._ Oh!

[_Exeunt, LEPOCHE, ceremoniously._