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[_Courtesies ironically._
_Lack._ That I shall, ma'am; produce your bill.
[_Takes out a Purse, and c.h.i.n.ks 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._ s.p.u.n.k 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 s.p.u.n.k.
_Tall._ You're s.p.u.n.k--tol de rol lol--At you, my merry harrier.
_Lack._ [_Cutting the Cards._] Trey.
_Tall._ [_Cutting._] His n.o.b.--I have won!
[_Mimicking LACKLAND, and puts up the Purse._
_Lack._ d.a.m.nation! [_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._ d.a.m.n you and Bob!
_Mrs. Casey._ What d'ye say, honey?
_Lack._ What, do you think a gentleman has nothing else to do, but to enc.u.mber 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._
