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_Lady B._ Sir, I mean the match.
_Lep._ Oui, dey make de match.
_Lady B._ But, sir, I wish better success to your Joan.
_Lep._ [_Aside._] Success to my Joan!
_Lady B._ But, for all your turf amus.e.m.e.nts, I dare say, you are a great man in the cabinet--in committees--privy councils, and board of works.
_Lep._ Board of vorks! [_Aside._] Ay, she mean my s...o...b..ard.
_Lady B._ And, I warrant, you are in all the deep French political secrets--you know all the ministers' measures.
_Lep._ Oui, I take all deir measures.
_Lady B._ We were informed, sir, in Paris, that you were much with the prince.
_Lep._ Oui, I am quite free in de family.
_Lady B._ And, when it suits you to introduce us to his highness--
_Lep._ Me? non!--de prince? I could introduce you to de head butler indeed--
_Lady B._ Introduce us to the butler!--Ay, ay, from Sir John's rustic behaviour, the colonel here, thinks us fit for no better company.
_Enter SIR JOHN, LEPOCHE takes out Pattern-Book._
Oh, Sir John, I have been endeavouring to apologize for you, to the colonel here.
_Lep._ [_Looks about._] Colonel!
_Sir J. B._ Egad, I fancy this is the tailor, indeed.
_Lep._ I am, at your service, sir.
_Lady B._ How!
_Sir J. B._ Ha! ha! ha! My lady, why will you pretend to speak to persons of distinction?--mistake a tailor, for a colonel, and a gendesarmes! ha! ha! ha!
_Lady B._ A tailor! then you're a very impudent little fellow!
_Lep._ Vell, miss, your moder voud not call me so.
_Sir J. B._ Her mother, you villain!
_Lady B._ Sir John, pray don't abuse the young man.
_Sir J. B._ Abuse! You little rascal, how dare you have the impudence to be taken for a colonel?--Get away, this instant, or, I'll crop you, with your own shears--Get along, you rascal.
[_Pushes out LEPOCHE._
_Enter ROBIN._
_Robin._ Madam, there's Miss Dolly gone off,--and Mrs. Casey says, it's upon some marriage scheme, or other.
_Lady B._ My daughter!
_Sir J. B._ My Doll!
_Robin._ And from what I can learn from Squire Tallyho's man, she's to meet his master.
_Lady B._ There's your honest Yorks.h.i.+reman, Sir John Bull!
_Robin._ I think they say, sir, she's gone to Colonel Epaulette's lodge.
_Sir J. B._ Ay, there's your honourable Frenchman, my Lady Bull!--but, come along--I'll have my daughter!--Rob me of my child!--Oh, for a search warrant!--Oh, for an English jury! Come along.
[_Exeunt._
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. Pett.i.toe--No, sir, only eight, for I never would listen to the handsome staymaker, of Duck Lane.
