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A Town.—Sign on one Side, the Lily Qf France, on the other, the British Lion.
Bells ring.—-Enter Mas. Casmr and First
.M rs. 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 ?
1 Waiter. Yes, ma’am. Cdfning, coming. [E.rit.
Ladrland. [Witln'n.] 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 Warrnn, 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 com
pany; 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
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.—Makc 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 U/aiter. Infernal! that's you, ma’am, he's calling.
Mrs. Casey. Hush ! here he is. [Exit Second WAIT.ER.] Because I'm a lone woman, he -thinks to impose upon the house.
Luck. 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 Smgf Boar.
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'h6te, 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 ventleman.
Lack. Matlie 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, thatl might have the superlative honour of twisting your husband by the nose.
- [Bowf 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!
Gag._ Madam, there's a Paris chaise stopped, and the master of the Lily of F rance 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 Mas. CASE-Y and GAGoaa.
Lack. [Looking.] An English otlicer. [Retiree
Enter HENRY and FRENCH POSTBOY.
Henry. There—[T/wows Money into the BoY's Hat, who is disc0ntented.] 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.
Lack. [Comesforward.] 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! [Wit/tC'0ncer1l.] But how has all this come about ?
Henry. I feel for you, sincerely !
Lac/r. What d'ye mean? Oh, my—[Lo0king at his CIothes.] 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, de