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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—l'll bring no more coronets about your doors, to inquire after me, madam—by Heaven, I'll ruin your house!

Jllrs. 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—[Lo0/cing at his S/i01lld6T-8.] 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 al’fair—By Heaven, madam, l'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. ll/Irs. Casey. Ah, man, what signifies your conceit?

_-~such a bashaw! here you come and call, likea _ lord, and drink like a lord, and there you are in my

books six whole pages, without a sc-ratch,like 1 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. lllrs. Casey. Oh, miracles will never cease—well,I said all along, that your honour was a prince. [C0urtcsic:. , 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. [C'ourtesies. 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—p|etcnd to be without money! —Oh dear, how jokish these gentlemen are !—Here," Bob, Squire Lacklamfs bill—quick, quick ! [E.z'it Mas. CaseY and S1»ZRVANTS. 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—Cnme,I do very \vell—-Oh, lucky, lucky cards !—after paying her bill, I shall have as much as will set me up at the faro bank—- Dem it, lmustn’t—-cannot think of this grocer's daughter—vile city bulls and bears—no, no, Tallyho may have her--Oh, here he comes!

Enter TALLYIIO, 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

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must leave my match in the hands of my jockeys—Soho, puss ! ' [Gui/ig. - Lack. A word.

Tall. What the devil, d'ye think people of business can stand gabhling—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.

[graphic]

Tall. Spunk and rhino!

Lack. Gabble—can’t sport—there—[Gt"ves him the Purse, and takes out a Pack z_>fCar(Is.] 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!

[ltlimicking LACKLAND, and puts up ‘the Purse.

Lack. Damnation! [TALLY1-1o sings, g0ing.] 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 llloney, and throws him the empty Purse. Sings] “ Then he leap'd o'vertL0rd 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 3

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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 ota 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

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Entcr Lerocmz:

- Lep. Monsieur Lackland, I hear you have hooked up some cash; so, before it's all gone, pay me my mo

ney.‘ Lack. You too !—you little infernal miscreant, l'll pay you ! [Beats him.

Lep. Ah misericorde ! Ah pauvre moi! [E.rit. Lack. In spite of figs, raisins, canvass sleeves,_and moist sugar, have at Miss Bull, of Garlick Hill, and her fourscore thousand! [Exit.

Enter Lnrocrm, peeping.

Lcp. Vat, is he gone? ’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

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/

Enter Room, from Mas. CAs12Y's House.

Robin. I say, master—

Lep. [Starts, muchfrighterzeal] 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. [B0'ws.

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 do new clothes—malpeste! I ave as much business as de grand financier.

Robin. Will you come‘?

Lep. Aprez vons, monsieur.

Robin. What?

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Colonel E. Only tell Sir John and my Lady do Bull, dat Colonel Epaulette is come to veil; on dem.

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