Fontainbleau Part 20

_Lack._ [_Aside._] Just as I thought--of fifty lovers with this young lady, I see, the last is the most welcome.

_Miss Dolly B._ I vow, I've a mind--but pa says you've no money.

_Lack._ Me! no money! pleasant enough that, 'faith, ha! ha! ha!--why, he might as well say I borrowed a guinea from him.

_Miss Dolly B._ Ecod, now I remember, he did say it too.

_Lack._ Oh, well, he was right--Why, what an old lying--but--he's your father, therefore let it be so, ha! ha! well, I have no money--[_With pretended Irony._] I am the poorest dog in nature, ha! ha! ha! Well, that is very good, 'faith--such a joke----

_Miss Dolly B._ Joke? lord, I knew it was--I thought you must have been very rich, by your fine clothes.

_Lack._ Clothes--oh, I've only borrowed them from somebody, or other, you know--where could I get money to buy such clothes as these, ha! ha!

ha!--well, this is excellent, ha! ha! ha!

_Miss Dolly B._ Ha! ha! ha! I knew you must have a great estate.

_Lack._ Me!--Oh, I haven't an acre, nor, may be, a mansion in Herefords.h.i.+re--nor, perhaps, I haven't a house in Portman Square.

_Miss Dolly B._ Portman Square!

_Lack._ Without a guinea in the funds--perhaps, at this moment, I haven't half a crown in the world, I'm such a miserable dog, ha! ha! ha!

_Miss Dolly B._ Ha! ha! ha! Estate in Herefords.h.i.+re!--Oh, Lud! then we can make, at least--ay, twenty hogsheads of cyder.

_Lack._ Make cyder--hem! Oh, you elegant----[_Aside._] Garlick Hill!

_Miss Dolly B._ I've a monstrous mind--Now answer me one question, that's all--If I should consent to run off with you, would you leave me standing here, for great travelling boots, or your dancing pumps?

_Lack._ Me! Not for the Pigot diamond!

_Miss Dolly B._ No?--come along.

_Lack._ Where?

_Miss Dolly B._ Lord, don't you know?

_Lack._ If we had but a chaise, and a priest--

_Miss Dolly B._ One's in the house, and t'other's at the door below.

_Lack._ Indeed! My dear, you're young, and frank--I throw myself, and all my fortune, at your feet, in spite of figs, raisins, canva.s.s sleeves, and moist sugar--Oh, you amazing fine creature!

_Miss Dolly B._ Oh, you astonis.h.i.+ng charming man!

[_Exeunt._

_Enter COLONEL EPAULETTE, speaks as entering._

_Colonel E._ All is ready--Allons, ma chere mademoiselle.

_Enter TALLYHO, in French Boots, &c. speaks as entering._

_Tall._ Well, Doll, here I am, booted and pistoled--[_Looks about._]

How!

_Colonel E._ Aha! de lady is gone.

_Tall._ Ay, where is she gone?

_Colonel E._ Oui, vere have you put her?

_Tall._ [_Resolutely._] Yes, tell me what you have done with her.

_Colonel E._ Moi?--I did leave her here.

_Tall._ You mean, you found her here, master poacher.

_Enter SIR JOHN BULL._

_Tall._ So, there, you wouldn't give your daughter to an honest Englishman, and now, she's whipped up by a poaching Frenchman!--I give you joy of your son-in-law, my old nag, ha! ha! ha!

_Sir J. B._ [_To COLONEL E._] Where is Doll?

_Colonel E._ Ask dat gentleman dat did stole her.

_Sir J. B._ Hearkye, you Yorks.h.i.+re bite, you sha'n't rob me of my child.

_Tall._ What, the devil, are you mad, old Holofernes! It's that there greyhound has whipped up little puss.

_Sir J. B._ I believe it.

_Colonel E._ Diable m'emporte--Zounds--Splutter and oons--it is no such ting.

_Tall._ It is.

_Colonel E._ It is not--You are as wrong in dis, as when you took me for a taileur.

_Sir J. B._ Where have you hid my child? restore her, or, I'll Cressy and Agincourt you--I'll be a Black Prince to you. Why, Dolly Bull!

[_Calling.--Exit._

_Colonel E._ Nay, but, Sir John----

_Tall._ I am so vexed and perplexed--Oh, if I had you at Dover, I'd fight you--ay, with a pair of queen Anne's pocket pistols.