_Sir J. B._ Oh, very well--there--[_Gives a Note._] by winning fifty pounds, you lose my daughter, and fourscore thousand; and now post that at Tattersal's, Tally, my lad--Dolly, child, go to your mamma.

_Miss Dolly B._ I won't--I won't go to my mamma--I'll meet you, bye and bye, at the Colonel's.

[_Apart to TALLYHO._

_Sir J. B._ You won't--you shall, hussy!

_Miss Dolly B._ I won't--I won't--[_Crying and sobbing._] Oh, the cruelty of old tough fathers, to force young, tender maidens, away from the sweet, amiable swains, that so dearly love them! oh! oh! oh!

_Sir J. B._ Go in there, you jade! [_Forces her off._] how cunning you look now, Tally, my lad!

[_Exeunt MISS BULL and SIR JOHN._

_Tall._ Don't force her away from her beautiful swain--[_Looks disappointed, and whistles._] So, here's a pretty commence! but if Doll meets me at the Colonel's, I'll whip her off; and if Captain Henry has laid the betts upon my slang match, I shall roll in rhino--first, marry Doll, in private--then, London--hey for a wedding, in full cry, and, then for the dear delights of London!

AIR.--TALLYHO.

_In London, my life is a ring of delight; In frolics, I keep up the day and the night, I snooze at the Hummums till twelve, perhaps later; I rattle the bell, and I roar up the waiter; "Your honour," says he, and he tips me a leg; He brings me my tea, but I swallow an egg; For tea in a morning's a slop I renounce, So I down with a gla.s.s of the right cherry bounce.

With swearing--tearing!

Ranting--jaunting!

Slashing--smashing!

Smacking--cracking!

Rumbling--tumbling!

Laughing--quaffing!

Smoking--joking!

Swagg'ring--stagg'ring!

So thoughtless, so knowing, so green, and so mellow!

This--this is the life of a frolicsome fellow._

_My phaeton I mount, and the plebs they all stare, I handle my reins, and my elbows I square; My ponies so plump, and as white as a lily!

Through Pallmall I spank it, and up Piccadilly; Till, losing a wheel, egad, down I come, smack!

So, at Knightsbridge, I throw myself into a hack, At Tattersal's, fling a leg over my nag; Then visit for dinner, then dress in a bag.

With swearing, &c._

ACT THE THIRD.

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 pa.s.sed, 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.