_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 Yorkshireman, 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.