Imatges de pÓgina

Dug. He has gained so insufferably on my goodhumour, that he's grown too familiar, but the fellow's cunning, and may be serviceable to you in your affair with Mirabel. Here he comes.

Enter Petit. Well, sir, have you

been at Rousseau's ? Petit. Yes, sir, and who should I find there but Mr Mirabel and the captain, hatching as warmly over a tub of ice, as two hen pheasants over a brood-They would not let me bespeak any thing, for they had dined before I came. Dug. Come, sir, you shall serve my

I shall still continue kind to you; and if your lady recommends your diligence, upon trial, I'll use my interest to advance you.-Wait on your lady home, Petit.

[Exit. Petit. A chair! a chair ! a chair ! Oriana. No, no, I'll walk home, 'tis but next door.




A Tavern.

Young MIRABEL and DURETETE discovered, rising

from Table. Y. Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear captain; we have eat heartily, drank roundly, paid plentifully, and let it go for once. I liked every thing but our women;

they looked so lean and tawdry, poor creatures ! 'Tis a sure sign the army is not paid. Give me the plump Venetian, brisk and sanguine, that smiles upon me like the glowing sun, and meets my lips like sparkling wine, her person, shining as the glass, and spirit, like the foaming liquor.

Dur. Ah, Mirabel, Italy I grant you; but for our women here in France, they are such thin, brawn, fallen jades, a man may as well make a bed-fellow of a cane chair.

Y. Mir. France ! A light, unseasoned country, nothing but feathers, foppery, and fashions. There's nothing on this side the Alps worth


humble service t’ye-Ha, Roma la Santa !—Italy for my money their customs, gardens, buildings, paintings, music, policies, wine, and women ! the paradise of the world !--not pestered with a parcel of precise, old, gouty fellows, that would debar their children every pleasure that they themselves are past the sense of; commend me to the Italian familiarity_“Here, son, there's fifty crowns, go, pay your girl her week's allow


Dur. Ay, these are your fathers for you, that understand the necessities of young men ! not like our musty dads, who, because they cannot fish themselves, would muddy the water, and spoil the sport of them that can. But now you talk of the plump, what d'ye think of a Dutch woman?

Y. Mir. A Dutch woman's too compact,---nay, every thing among them is so; a Dutch nian is thick, a Dutch woman is squab, a Dutch horse is round, a Dutch dog is short, a Dutch ship is broad bottomed ; and, in short, one would swear that the whole product of the country were cast in the same mould with their cheeses.

Dur. Ay, but, Mirabel, you have forgot the EngJish ladies.

Y. Mir. The women of England were excellent, did they not take such insufferable pains to ruin what nature has made so incomparably well; they would be delicate creatures indeed, could they but thoroughly arrive at the French mien, or entirely let it alone; for

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they only spoil a very good air of their own, by an awkward imitation of ours. But come, Duretete, let us mind the business in hand : Mistresses we must have, and must take up with the manufacture of the place, and upon a competent diligence, we shall find those in Paris shall match the Italians from top to toe.

Dur. Ay, Mirabel, you will do well enough, but what will become of your friend? you know, I am so plaguy bashful! so naturally an ass upon these occasions, that

Y, Mir. Pshaw! you must be bolder, man! Travel three years, and bring home such a baby as bashfulness ! A great lusty fellow, and a soldier; fie upon it!

Dur. Lookye, sir, I can visit, and I can ogle a little, as thus, or thus now. Then I can kiss abundantly—but if they chance to give me a forbidding look, as some women, you know, have a devilish cast with their eyes--or if they cry, "What do

you mean? what d’ye take me for? Fie, sir, remember who I am, sir-A person of quality to be used at this rate!". 'Egad, I'm struck as flat as a fryingpan,

Y. Min Words of course! never mind them: Turn you about

upon your heel, with a jantée air; hum out the end of an old song; cut a cross caper, and at her again.

Dur. [Imitates him.] No, hang it, 'twill never do! LOons ! what did my father mean, by sticking me up in an university, or to think that I should gain any thing by my head, in a nation whose genius lies all in their heels!Well, if ever I come to have children of my own, they shall have the education of the country - they shall learn to dance, before they can walk, and be taught to sing, before they can speak.

Y. Mir. Come, come, throw off that childish humour—put on assurance, there's no avoiding it; stand all hazards, thou’rt á stout, lusty fellow, and hast a good estate;-look bluff, hector, you have a good sidebox face, a pretty impudent face; so, that's pretty well.

This fellow went abroad like an ox, and is returned like an ass.

[ Aside. Dur. Let me see now, how I look. [Pulls out a Pocket Glass, and looks on it.] A side-box face, say you!—’Egad, I don't like it, Mirabel ! Fie, sir, don't abuse your friends; I could not wear such a face for the best countess in christendom.

Y. Mir. Why can't you, blockhead, as well as I?

Dur. Why, thou hast impudence to set a good face upon any thing: I would change half my gold for half thy brass, with all my heart. Who comes here? Odso, Mirabel, your father!

Old Mir. Where's Bob? dear Bob?
Y. Mir. Your blessing, sir?

Old Mir. My blessing ! Damn ye, ye young rogue, why did not you come to see your father first, sirrah? My dear boy, I am heartily glad to see thee, my dear child, 'faith !-Captain Duretete, by the blood of the Mirables, I'm yours! Well, my lads, ye look bravely, 'faith.- Bob, ħast got any money left ?

Y. Mir. Not a farthing, sir.
Old Mir. Why, then, I won't gi' thee a souse.
Y. Mir. I did but jest, here's ten pistoles.

Old Mir. Why, then, here's ten more: I love to be charitable to those that don't want it. --Well, and how do you like Italy, my boys?

Y. Mir. O, the garden of the world, sir! Rome, Naples, Venice, Milan, and a thousand others--all fine.

Old Mir. Ay! say you so ? And they say, that Chiari is very fine too.

Dur. Indifferent, sir, very indifferent; a very scurvy air, the most unwholesome to a French constitution in the world,

· Y. Mir. Pshaw! nothing on't : these rascally gazetteers have misinformed you.

Old Mir. Misinformed me! Oons, sir, were we not beaten there?

Y. Mir. Beaten, sir! we beaten!
Old Mir. Why, how was it, pray, sweet sir?
Y. Mir. Sir, the captain will tell you.
Dur. No, sir, your son will tell you.
Y. Mir. The captain was in the action, sir.

Dur. Your son saw more than I, sir, for he was a looker on.

Old Mir. Confound you both for a brace of cowards! here are 110 Germans to overhear you—why don't


tell me how it was? Y. Mir. Why, then, you must know, that we marched up a body of the finest, bravest, well-dressed fellows in the universe ; our commanders at the head of us, all lace and feather, like so many beaux at a ball I don't believe there was a man of them but could dance a charmer, morbleau !

Old Mir. Dance ! very well, pretty fellows, 'faith!

Y. Mir. We capered up to their very trenches, and there saw, peeping over, a parcel of scare-crow, olive-coloured, gunpowder fellows, as ugly as the devil.

Dur. E'gad, I shall never forget the looks of them, while I have breath to fetch.

Y, Mir. They were so civil, indeed, as to welcome us with their cannon! but for the rest, we found them such unmannerly, rude, unsociable dogs, that we grew tired of their company, and so we e'en danced back again. Old Mir. And did


all come back? Y. Mir. No; two or three thousand of us staid behind.

Old Mir. Why, Bob, why?

Y. Mir. Pshaw! because they could not come that flight.

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